Chapter 7 - Fractured Shields
The silence inside the vaulted room was so absolute that Sadie could hear the distant rumble of subway trains beneath the foundation of Grand Central. Lorenzo Marcone sat paralyzed, staring down the barrel of Dominic’s pistol, the sweat breaking out along his receding hairline.
Old Salvatore slowly raised a trembling, liver-spotted hand, signaling his hot-headed son to lower his posture.
“Enough,” the old man wheezed, his voice laced with bitter defeat. “Lower your weapons. All of you.”
Slowly, without taking his eyes off Lorenzo for a single second, Dominic lowered his firearm and rested it flat against the mahogany table. The message was unmistakable: he was in complete control of the room, the negotiations, and the fate of everyone breathing inside it.
“The forgery stays with me,” Dominic declared with icy finality. “Keller’s properties are absorbed into the Russo trust. You will receive twenty percent of the gross terminal fees from the Red Hook expansion as a courtesy for your father’s retirement, Salvatore. Nothing more. If you contest this agreement, I will release the complete chemical analysis of your family’s entire 'private collection' to the Federal Antiquities Task Force by noon tomorrow. Every museum donor you launder money through will drop you overnight.”
Salvatore Marcone closed his eyes, his weathered shoulders sagging. He knew he had been completely outmaneuvered. The young don of the Russo family didn't just fight with bullets; he fought with leverage, precision, and unyielding intellect.
“We accept the terms,” Salvatore muttered quietly. “Take your appraiser and leave my sight.”
Dominic stood up, buttoning his jacket with effortless composure, and offered his arm to Sadie. She placed her hand over his sleeve, her fingers steady, her head held high as they walked out of the lion’s den without looking back once.
When they stepped into the private elevator leading back up to street level, the adrenaline finally crashed over Sadie like a tidal wave. Her knees buckled slightly. Dominic caught her instantly, pulling her against his chest before she could stumble.
“You were magnificent,” he murmured, his arms wrapping securely around her waist. His voice held a warmth that belonged solely to her, stripped of all the lethal ice he had displayed seconds earlier.
Sadie looked up into his dark eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “He called me... he insulted me, and you were ready to start a war right there in front of the entire Commission.”
“I would burn this entire city to the bedrock before I allowed any man to speak to you with disrespect, Sadie,” Dominic said softly, his gaze dropping to her parted lips. The intensity in his eyes was intoxicating, a gravity she no longer had the strength—or the desire—to resist.
Sadie reached up, her fingers tangling into the soft dark hair at the nape of his neck. “Dominic...”
He didn't wait for her to finish. Dominic bent his head and captured her mouth in a searing, possessive kiss that obliterated every remaining doubt in her mind. This wasn't the staged, tactical kiss from the hotel corridor. This was fierce, hungry, and deeply protective—a declaration of ownership that made her whole body ignite with heat.
Sadie melted against him, opening her lips to his, her hands clutching the lapels of his suit as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world. When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, both of them were breathing heavily.
“Come back to the penthouse,” Dominic whispered against her skin, his thumb caressing the soft curve of her jawline. “Stay with me. Not as a protected witness. Not as an appraiser. As mine.”
Before Sadie could answer, the elevator reached the garage level, and the doors slid open. Michael was standing just outside the threshold, his face pale, holding a secure satellite phone.
“Boss,” Michael said, his voice urgent and fractured. “We have a catastrophic breach. Keller never boarded the cargo ship in Newark.”
Dominic stiffened immediately, pulling Sadie behind his shoulder in a fluid, protective motion. “Explain. Now.”
“Two of our dock guards were found unconscious near Pier 4,” Michael reported rapidly. “Keller had help on the inside. Dante Marcone—the younger brother—smuggled him out before the sit-down began. They know Salvatore backed down, and Dante is going rogue. They hijacked a transport van containing the authenticated Renaissance original and headed north toward the private airstrip in Westchester.”
Sadie felt her blood turn to ice. “The original Titian... it was in that transport?”
“It was being transferred to the bank vault an hour ago,” Dominic said, his jaw tightening into rigid granite. “They don't just want the painting. Keller wants revenge. He knows that painting represents our entire leverage over the European consortium. If he destroys it or flies it out of state, my family’s reputation is crippled.”
Dominic turned to Sadie, his eyes burning with an unholy fire. “Stay with Michael. The armored car will take you to the safehouse in Jersey.”
“No,” Sadie said fiercely, gripping his forearm with both hands. “I’m not running anymore, Dominic. That painting is an irreplaceable world treasure, and Keller is my demon to bury. You take me with you, or I swear to God I will call a cab and follow you to Westchester myself.”
Dominic stared at her for two long seconds, seeing the absolute, unyielding determination in her eyes. A slow, lethal smile curved his lips.
May you like
“Load the tactical shotguns, Michael,” Dominic commanded, turning toward the fleet of black SUVs. “My lady wants to hunt.”
***
