Chapter 7 - In the Lion’s Den
The Cavali estate was situated behind towering limestone gates in Lake Forest, insulated from the rest of the world by fifty acres of private forest. It wasn't the gaudy, gold-leaf palace Bee had imagined from mob movies; it was an austere, breathtaking masterpiece of modern glass, dark slate, and warm walnut wood, overlooking the crashing waves of Lake Michigan.
For three days, Bee lived in an opulent guest suite that felt more like a luxury boutique hotel than a prison. A private physician had treated her minor scrapes and prescribed rest. Tailors had arrived with racks of bespoke cashmere sweaters, silk blouses, and wool trousers to replace her ruined wardrobe. Yet, the electronic locks on the doors and the stoic men in dark suits patrolling the manicured gardens reminded her constantly of where she was.
On the fourth evening, a knock sounded at her door. Dante stood in the hallway, wearing a clean suit, gesturing respectfully toward the terrace. ""The Don requests your company for dinner, Miss Gallagher.""
Bee smoothed the front of an ivory silk shirt, took a deep, steadying breath, and followed him down the floating glass staircase.
She found Roman in a cavernous dining room warmed by a massive hearth. He wore a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the bandage on his left arm concealed beneath the fabric. On the mahogany table lay two place settings, a bottle of vintage Barolo, and an open leather-bound folder.
""Beatrice,"" Roman said, rising to pull out her chair with old-world courtesy. ""You look rested.""
""I look like a hostage who just received an expensive makeover,"" she replied, though a small, wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she sat down. ""Let's skip the small talk, Cavali. What am I doing here? The FBI hasn't kicked down your door, Krasniqi is in a hole somewhere, and my office has probably fired me for job abandonment by now.""
Roman poured two glasses of ruby-red wine and slid one toward her. ""Actually, Deote and Associates received a formal resignation letter from your personal email account two days ago, along with an anonymous severance settlement wired to your private checking account amounting to half a million dollars.""
Bee choked on her breath, slamming both hands on the table. ""You did what?! You forged my resignation?!""
""I simplified your life,"" Roman said calmly, cutting into a piece of roasted lamb. ""You were underpaid, overworked, and wasting your brilliant mind uncovering petty tax evasion for insurance executives who wouldn't cross the street to spit on you if you were on fire.""
""That was my career, Roman! I worked eight years for that senior partnership!""
""And you threw it all away in thirty seconds to drag an idiot brother out of a slaughterhouse,"" Roman pointed out, his gray eyes locking onto hers with penetrating focus. ""You have courage, Beatrice. More courage than half the capos sitting on my council. And your mind... what you did with the environmental purge system at Cermak wasn't just clever. It was ruthless.""
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Bee sank back into her chair, her anger warring with the undeniable thrill of his praise. ""I did what I had to do to survive.""
""Exactly,"" Roman leaned forward, tapping the leather folder between them. ""Which brings me to my offer.""
