Chapter 6 - The Poisoned Vintage
The concrete stairwell was cold, echoing with the distant sound of blaring hotel alarms and the muffled shouts of building security. Margaux climbed the steel steps two at a time, her designer heels abandoned somewhere on the forty-first floor landing. Her stockings were torn, her hair was coming loose from its immaculate French twist, and yet, an unnatural clarity had settled over her brain.
""Table Four wasn't the target,"" she gasped, gripping the cold iron handrail as they crested the final landing before the roof access hatch.
Adrian stopped on the step below her, his gun held at the low-ready, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows of the concrete shaft beneath them. ""Explain.""
""The ninety-six reserve,"" she said, turning to face him, her chest heaving as she connected the fragmented pieces of the night's itinerary. ""Senator Hayes made a massive scene about the champagne. He wanted that specific bottle opened at Table One. Leo wasn't just planting a transmitter—Leo was stationed at the pantry where the Governor's private service cart was parked!""
Adrian went completely still. His dark eyes narrowed into dangerous, razor-sharp slits. ""The Governor’s wine.""
""Julianne Sterling didn't want a fire to kill Moretti,"" Margaux said, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. ""She wanted you to look like you orchestrated an attack on the Governor! If the room went dark and the Governor died of cardiac arrest from poisoned wine, who takes the blame? The mafia boss who was seen cornering his security staff in the hallway forty minutes earlier!""
Adrian stared at her in the dim emergency lighting, a slow, dark, appreciative grin spreading across his lips despite the gunfire echoing from the lobby below.
""You really are a genius,"" he murmured, his voice laced with unadulterated pride. ""They weren't trying to shoot me. They were framing me for the assassination of the state executive to bring federal marshals down on Voss Maritime.""
""We have to stop him from drinking it!"" Margaux grabbed the lapels of his ruined tuxedo jacket. ""Priya went to fetch the reserve! If she serves that glass—""
""Priya won't serve it,"" a smooth, venomous voice drawled from the doorway above them.
Margaux spun around.
Standing on the threshold of the rooftop landing, backlit by the driving rain and the rhythmic thumping of approaching rotor blades, stood Julianne Sterling. She was clutching a dripping umbrella in one hand and an elegant, nickel-plated revolver in the other. Her satin evening gown was soaked around the hem, and her face was twisted into a bitter, manic mask of aristocratic desperation.
""Julianne,"" Margaux said, stepping slightly in front of Adrian before his hand caught her hip and yanked her firmly behind his broad frame.
""Margaux, you pathetic little social climber,"" Julianne hissed, the wind whipping wet strands of blonde hair across her face. ""You should have stayed in the kitchen where you belong. If you hadn't insisted on cross-referencing the cellar inventory, Douglas would have finished his glass, the Governor would have collapsed, and Adrian Voss would be facing federal treason charges before sunrise.""
""Your husband owed twenty million on the lakefront docks,"" Adrian said, his voice flat, dangerously cold. He stepped forward, his Sig Sauer pointed straight at the center of Julianne’s forehead. ""Did Julian Moretti promise to clear the ledger for the Governor's life?""
""He promised me my family’s name wouldn't be dragged through bankruptcy court!"" Julianne shrieked over the howling wind. ""You think you rule this city, Adrian? You’re just a waterfront thug in an Italian suit! And tonight, you burn!""
She raised the revolver, her knuckle turning white on the trigger.
Margaux didn't think. She snatched the heavy industrial fire extinguisher mounted to the stairwell wall, ripping it from its bracket, and hurled it with all her might at Julianne's shins.
The heavy steel canister struck the woman's legs with a sickening crunch. Julianne screamed, her shot firing wildly into the concrete ceiling, raining plaster dust down on them.
Before she could recover, Adrian surged forward like a panther, his hand clamping around Julianne’s wrist, twisting it until the revolver clattered across the wet metal roof decking. He kicked the weapon off the edge of the building, his other hand pinning the screaming socialite against the concrete wall with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.
""Mikhail!"" Adrian shouted over the roaring wind.
Mikhail appeared at the base of the stairs, breathing heavily, his suit spattered with dark stains that Margaux deliberately chose not to inspect.
""Take this trash to the basement holding cells,"" Adrian commanded, shoving Julianne into Mikhail’s iron grip. ""Call the federal district attorney. Tell him I have the paperwork, the transmitter, and the traitor who tried to poison Governor Weston. And tell him Voss Maritime expects the harbor contracts renewed by breakfast.""
""Done, Boss,"" Mikhail grunted, dragging the weeping woman down the stairs.
May you like
Adrian turned back to Margaux. The heavy rain was soaking through his shirt, plastering the thin fabric to his muscular chest, but his eyes were blazing with an intensity that made the storm feel small.
""Now,"" Adrian said, extending his hand toward her, ""let's finish this night properly.""
