Chapter 2 - The Lion’s Den
Thirty minutes later, I wasn't dead in a ditch; I was sitting in the plush leather passenger seat of Vincent Castellano’s armored Mercedes SUV, speeding through the torrential Chicago downpour toward the Gold Coast.
Vincent had wrapped my sprained ankle in a firm medical bandage from his trunk kit, his large hands surprisingly gentle despite the lethal tension coiled in his shoulders. He had tossed me his heavy cashmere overcoat to cover my rain-soaked, torn clothes. The fabric smelled of cedar, expensive tobacco, and raw danger.
""Listen to me carefully, Penelope,"" Vincent commanded, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles. ""In forty-five minutes, Victoria arrives at my private penthouse for what she thinks is a final rehearsal dinner. Leo and his inner circle will be stationed at every exit. Dmitri’s Russian mercenaries are currently staged across three dry-dock warehouses in Calumet, waiting for Victoria’s green light at the altar tomorrow.""
""What are you going to do?"" I asked, clutching the encrypted USB drive in my pocket. ""If Leo realizes you know the truth, he won't hesitate to order a strike right now. He controls half your armed guards.""
""Leo thinks he controls them because he buys their loyalty with dirty Kensington cash,"" Vincent said, a dark, wicked smirk curling the edge of his mouth. ""He forgets whose name is painted on the steel gates of this city. But before I put a bullet between his eyes, I need every single routing number, offshore proxy, and encrypted correspondence pulled off that drive. I need indisputable, public evidence that will turn the Commission against the entire Kensington bloodline.""
""I can crack the drive’s encryption,"" I said firmly, leaning forward despite the throbbing pain in my foot. ""Victoria used a three-tier commercial cipher developed by a Swiss firm. When I was in graduate school, our primary lab spent four months stress-testing that exact platform. Give me a clean terminal, thirty minutes, and an isolated subnet, and I will hand you their entire syndicate on a silver platter.""
Vincent glanced at me, his gaze lingering on my face with an intensity that made the breath catch in my throat. For three years, he had been the untouchable phantom walking the high corridors of the mansion while I knelt on the floorboards, carefully keeping my eyes averted to avoid his wrath. Now, looking at him beneath the flashing sodium streetlights, I realized the ruthless mafia don was looking at me not as a disposable domestic servant, but as his only viable lifeline.
""If you pull this off, Penny,"" he said softly, using the nickname I thought he had never heard, ""your debt isn't just forgiven. I will give you the Kensington family’s entire estate. Every penny they stole from your father will be returned ten times over.""
""I don't care about their blood money, Vincent,"" I replied coldly. ""I want the truth known. I want my father’s name cleared from the police records, and I want the people who put him in that river brought to justice.""
""On that,"" Vincent growled, pulling the vehicle into the private underground parking bay of his luxury high-rise, ""you have my word as a Castellano.""
The elevator ride to the 40th floor was silent and suffocating. When the stainless-steel doors slid open, we entered an ultra-modern, sprawling penthouse surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the stormy expanse of Lake Michigan.
Waiting in the foyer was Marco, Vincent’s fiercely loyal younger brother and the only underboss who had opposed the Kensington alliance from day one. Marco’s hand immediately moved toward his waistband when he saw me standing beside his brother wrapped in Vincent’s coat.
May you like
""Vincent, what the hell is this?"" Marco demanded, his eyes darting between me and the blood-spattered cuffs of Vincent's shirt. ""Leo told the family that the Abbott girl sold our shipping coordinates to the Bratva. Why is she standing in your living room?""
""Because Leo is a traitor, Marco,"" Vincent said coldly, walking past him toward the master study. ""And the girl he framed is the only reason my head won't be mounted on a stake at St. Patrick’s Cathedral tomorrow morning.""
