Chapter 7 - The Trap Is Set
Maya sat at the massive mahogany desk in Roman’s private office, her fingers trembling as she held the burner phone Roman had placed in her hands.
Around the room stood six of Roman’s top captains, fully armed with tactical gear and silenced weapons. Roman stood directly behind Maya, one hand resting firmly and reassuringly on the back of her leather chair. His presence was an anchor of absolute steel.
“Remember what I told you,” Roman murmured near her ear, his breath warm against her hair. “You are terrified. You are desperate. You want the debt forgiven. Do not offer extra information. Let him do the talking.”
Maya nodded, swallowing down the dry lump in her throat. She dialed the number Aaron had scrawled on a scrap of paper outside her apartment door.
The phone rang twice. Then, a click.
“Maya?” Aaron’s eager, greasy voice crackled through the speaker. “Tell me you have good news.”
Maya squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her voice to tremble—which required almost no acting at all. “Aaron... I got them.”
A sharp intake of breath came over the line. “The security rotations? The gate codes?”
“Yes,” Maya said, her voice shaking convincingly. “Roman keeps a physical backup ledger in his desk safe. I found the master code while cleaning his study. Aaron, please... I can’t stay here. If he finds out, he’ll kill me. You promised my debt would be erased.”
“Of course, baby, of course!” Aaron laughed, a triumphant, sickening sound. “You did the right thing. You bring that ledger to the abandoned railway depot on 4th Street tonight at midnight. The Morettis will verify the codes, hand you your promissory notes, and give you twenty grand to leave Chicago forever.”
Maya looked up at Roman. Roman gave a single, slow nod.
“Midnight,” Maya whispered. “Don’t bring anyone else, Aaron. Just you and the notes. If I see a mob crew, I’ll run.”
“Just business, Maya. Midnight. Don't be late.”
The line went dead.
Maya collapsed forward, burying her face in her hands, her whole body shivering from the adrenaline. Immediately, warm, powerful arms encircled her. Roman pulled her gently upward, drawing her against his broad chest in an unhurried, protective embrace.
“You did exceptionally well,” Roman said softly, stroking her dark hair. “It’s over now. Tonight, your debt dies.”
Maya rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of cedar and leather. For months, Aaron had held an invisible noose around her neck, strangling her future. Now, with Roman beside her, that noose was finally snapping.
“What will happen to him?” Maya asked in a muffled whisper.
Roman’s eyes flashed with lethal darkness, though his touch remained tender. “He will face justice for what he did to you, Maya. And the Morettis will learn what happens when they touch what belongs to me.”
Four hours later, the Chicago sky turned pitch-black, swallowed by heavy snow clouds.
At eleven-thirty, a black convoy of reinforced SUVs rolled silently out of the DeLuca estate, cutting through the blizzard toward the industrial outskirts of the South Side. Inside the lead vehicle, Roman checked the slide on his custom matte-black pistol, his expression grim and focused.
Beside him sat Marco. “Boss, the sniper teams are already in position around the railway depot. Mateo Moretti arrived ten minutes ago with eight armed men. Aaron Pike is with them.”
“Good,” Roman said coldly. “Let them think they’re walking into an easy victory.”
Meanwhile, back at the DeLuca mansion, Maya sat in the music room with Elena. Elena had insisted on staying awake, sensing the monumental tension hanging over the house.
“My brother doesn’t lose, Maya,” Elena said quietly, reaching across to hold Maya’s cold hand. “He became the head of this family at twenty-four because he outsmarted men twice his age. Trust him.”
“I do,” Maya whispered, surprised to realize how deeply true those words were. In less than a week, Roman DeLuca had become the only man in her life who had never lied to her, never hurt her, and moved mountains to protect her.
Suddenly, the shoebox under Maya’s arm drew Elena’s attention. Maya had brought it downstairs, intending to finally ask Roman about it after the night was over.
“What’s in the box?” Elena asked.
Maya opened the lid, revealing the envelopes of anonymous cash. “Someone has been slipping money under my apartment door for six months. Thousands of dollars. I was too afraid to spend it.”
Elena looked at the plain white envelopes. Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock.
“Elena? What is it?”
Elena reached into the box, pulling out the third envelope. She pointed to a tiny, embossed watermark in the corner of the paper—a silver crest shaped like a blooming lily.
“This is my mother’s private stationary,” Elena gasped, her hand trembling. “Only two people in the world have access to this paper. Me... and Roman.”
Maya’s breath caught in her throat.
May you like
Roman had been sending the money. Long before she danced with a mop. Long before she broke the rule on the second floor.
Roman DeLuca had been protecting her from the shadows all along.
