Chapter 3 - The Cage of Silk and Steel
Iris refused to ride in the back of the armored SUV until Nikolai promised her, on his life, that no harm would come to her shop or her staff. Within thirty minutes, they were whisked away from the bohemian brick streets of the East Quarter and driven into the high-security compound of the Voss estate—a sprawling limestone fortress perched on the cliffs overlooking the gray, churning harbor.
The mansion was breathtaking, cold, and entirely terrifying. Armed men in black suits patrolled the manicured hedges, tactical rifles slung across their chests. Inside, antique chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, illuminating marble hallways filled with historical oil paintings of grim-faced men who looked just like Nikolai.
"You can't keep me here," Iris insisted as Nikolai led her into a private sunroom on the second floor, furnished with plush velvet armchairs and panoramic windows overlooking the sea. "This is kidnapping, Nikolai!"
"This is quarantine," Nikolai countered calmly, removing his tailored jacket and tossing it onto an ottoman. He loosened his silk tie, revealing the faint shadow of a collarbone tattoo she vividly remembered tracing with her lips in the dark. "Until tomorrow afternoon, the entire city will be a powder keg. If Don Renard discovers you exist before I dismantle this alliance, he will use you as leverage to strip my organization of our shipping ports. Or worse."
Iris collapsed into one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands. The sheer absurdity of her life over the past eight hours made her head pound. That morning, she had been worrying about the price of imported white roses and how she was going to afford prenatal vitamins on a florist’s margin. Now, she was locked in the private fortress of an underworld kingpin who was talking about syndicate wars and leveraged treaties.
A discreet knock sounded at the door. An older woman in a neat black dress entered, carrying a porcelain tea tray with freshly steeped peppermint tea, dry crackers, and a bowl of fresh berries.
"Marta," Nikolai instructed gently, "ensure Miss Beaumont has anything she requires. If she feels faint or nauseous, call Dr. Sterling immediately."
"Yes, Mr. Voss," the housekeeper replied respectfully, offering Iris a warm, sympathetic smile before exiting and closing the heavy oak doors behind her.
Iris looked at the tea, then at Nikolai. "You remembered I drink peppermint tea when I’m stressed."
"I remember every single word you spoke during that storm," Nikolai said softly, stepping closer to her chair. He knelt down before her, bringing himself to her eye level. It was an astonishing gesture—Chicago’s most ruthless crime lord kneeling before an ordinary woman with flower dirt beneath her fingernails. "You told me you dreamed of opening a greenhouse in the countryside. You told me you hated the cold. You told me you thought men who carry guns are usually cowards running from their own shadows."
Iris choked back a half-laugh, half-sob. "You remembered that?"
"I did," Nikolai murmured, taking both of her cold hands into his large, calloused palms. "And you were right. I was a coward. I was ready to marry a woman I hated, to lead a life of hollow duty, just to keep an empire from bleeding. But looking at those torn pieces of paper on your counter... seeing that tiny speck of life that belongs to us... I realized something, Iris."
"What?" she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"I have spent my whole life building an empire of stone and ash," he said, his gray eyes shining with fierce conviction. "And for the first time in thirty-two years, I have something worth protecting."
Before she could respond, the heavy double doors of the sunroom burst open.
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Standing in the doorway was a statuesque woman dressed in head-to-toe couture white silk, dripping in diamonds, her dark hair pinned in an immaculate chignon. Her crimson-painted lips were curled in a sneer of pure venom. Behind her stood two burly bodyguards wearing the crest of the Renard syndicate.
It was Celeste Renard. And her icy blue eyes were locked directly onto Iris Beaumont.
