The Billionaire Mafia Boss Heard My Darkest Secret on Thanksgiving—Then Left a Black Card and Took Me Away

Emma stood paralyzed behind table twelve, her hands trembling as she stared at the sleek black card and the heavy silver keycard. The kitchen was completely dead now; Cal had slipped out the back ten minutes ago, leaving the grease traps cooling and the floor damp from mop water.

Pete poked his head out of the office, his eyes wide and bloodshot from staring at spreadsheets. He saw the black card sitting on the table and let out a breathless, shuddering exhale.

""Emma,"" Pete whispered, hurrying over as if the card might detonate. ""Tell me you didn't touch anything of his.""

""He told me not to go home, Pete,"" Emma said, her voice shaking with adrenaline. ""He said Sal sold the building to the Castiglione family. What does that mean? Pete, who is Roman Vale really?""

Pete grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly firm. ""You don't say that name out loud. You don't ask what he does, and you sure as hell don't ignore what he tells you. If Roman says the Castigliones bought your block, that means the West Side syndicate is moving into River North tonight. Emma, Sal is up to his neck in gambling debt. They don't just buy buildings for rent; they clear them out to launder offshore wire transfers.""

""My cat is there, Pete!"" Emma gasped, panic finally bursting through the shock. ""My mother's photo albums. Her old jewelry box—it's all I have left of her!""

""Then you run,"" Pete hissed, shoving her toward the employee locker room. ""Grab your coat. Don't go to the front. The black sedan is idling in the rear alley. If Marcus is behind the wheel, you do whatever he says. He’s Roman’s head of security. If you go to your apartment alone, you're dead or worse.""

Emma sprinted into the locker room, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She ripped her winter parka off the hook, shoved her worn canvas bag onto her shoulder, and ran toward the back exit. The heavy steel door banged shut behind her, plunging her into the biting Chicago blizzard.

The alley was pitch-black except for the red glow of dual exhaust pipes cutting through the swirling snow. A massive black armored sedan was idling smoothly against the brick wall. As soon as her boots hit the icy concrete, the rear passenger door swung open on heavy, hydraulic hinges.

""Miss Callahan,"" a deep, gravelly voice came from the driver's seat. A man with a scarred jaw and military posture looked at her through the rearview mirror. ""Get inside. Now.""

Emma hesitated for half a second before diving into the heated, leather-clad interior. The door slammed shut with the solid thud of an airtight vault.

""We need to stop at Logan Square,"" Emma pleaded, leaning forward against the leather partition. ""Please. My apartment is on Kedzie. My mother's belongings are there. I can't just leave them.""

Marcus didn't turn around, but his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he shifted into gear. ""Mr. Vale instructed me to bring you directly to the Lake Shore tower. It’s not safe in Logan Square.""

""I don't care about your boss or his orders!"" Emma shouted, tears of frustration burning in her eyes. ""Everything I own in this world is in that drafty, four-hundred-square-foot studio! My mother died four years ago, and those boxes are all that proves she ever existed! Turn this car around or I’m throwing myself out at the next red light!""

Marcus went quiet. For two excruciating blocks, the only sound was the hum of the twin-turbo engine clearing the snow-covered asphalt of Grand Avenue. Then, Marcus tapped a discreet button on the dashboard console.

""Sir,"" Marcus spoke into the hands-free transmitter. ""The girl is refusing to cooperate. She's insisting on retrieving personal property from the Kedzie address.""

A crackle of static broke through the speakers. Roman's voice came through, crisp, deep, and impossibly calm, cutting through Emma's hysteria like a surgeon's scalpel.

""Emma,"" Roman said.

Emma leaned toward the console, her breath catching. ""Roman, please. Don't do this. I'm not a package you can just store in a penthouse. Let me get my mother's things.""

A heavy silence lingered over the line. ""Two minutes, Callahan. If Marcus sees a single car parked on Kedzie with out-of-state plates, he pulls you out, with or without your boxes. Understood?""