Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Dunore Tower
Emmett Castellano did not look like the men who usually took the express elevator to the executive suites. His overcoat was thick charcoal wool, old enough to have settled against his shoulders like armor, devoid of logos or golden tie pins. His watch—an inherited steel piece whose second hand had rusted fast at nine-forty decades ago—lay silent beneath his cuff. He moved across the lobby without rushing, his gaze fixed not on Cade’s leather jacket or the silver ring, but on the white knuckles Adeline had dug into the edge of the laminate counter.
Behind him, seated near the decorative indoor ficus, two broad-shouldered men in tailored slate suits began to rise in unison. Emmett did not turn his head. He simply flicked two fingers of his left hand downward, and both men sank back into the upholstery without making a sound.
""I asked you a question, old man,"" Cade said over his shoulder, not yet letting go of Adeline’s vest. He assumed Emmett was some late-running tenant, an attorney carrying home briefcases full of holiday work. ""Take a walk. This is private family business.""
""It stopped being private when you touched her,"" Emmett said. His voice was remarkably low, carrying the smooth gravel of someone who never had to raise his volume to be obeyed. ""And it stopped being Dunore's building forty-two minutes ago.""
Cade gave a short, jagged bark of laughter and turned fully around, keeping one hand twisted into Adeline’s collar. ""Is that right? You think you bought this concrete box? Dunore owns the ground lease, the air rights, and every dirty secret buried under the foundation. You’re talking to the wrong guy, buddy.""
Emmett paused three paces away. He did not reach into his coat for a weapon. He simply stood tall, his dark eyes taking in Cade’s stance, the angle of his balance, the way he favored his right boot. ""Denny,"" Emmett called out, never looking toward the security alcove. ""Tell him who signed the deed of transfer on the sixth floor at four o’clock.""
In the glass booth, the security guard sat paralyzed. Denny’s hands trembled against his keyboard. He swallowed hard, his throat clicking loud enough to hear across the cavernous room. ""Cade,"" Denny squeaked, his voice cracking like dry wood. ""Let her go. It’s him. The Castellano Group bought the debt tranches yesterday. They executed the default covenant an hour ago. He owns the building. He owns the contracts. He owns everything.""
The name hit the lobby like a drop in barometric pressure. Even Cade’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as his eyes darted from Denny back to the man in the charcoal coat. The Castellanos were not corporate raiders who hid behind press releases. In the rust belt along the river, their name belonged to quiet money, old docks, rail shipping, and debts that were collected without courts or sheriffs. Sterling Dunore had spent twenty years dodging federal subpoenas, but nobody in the state ever tried dodging an Castellano invoice.
""Mr. Castellano,"" Cade said, though his fingers loosened slightly on Adeline’s collar. ""This girl's father stole six million dollars from this firm before he died in prison. She’s sitting on stolen corporate property right now in that desk. If you bought Dunore Holdings, that property belongs to you. I’m just recovering it for the firm.""
May you like
""You are trespassing,"" Emmett said evenly. ""And you have three seconds before my associates remind you how gravity works on wet pavement.""
Adeline gasped as Cade abruptly let go, the fabric of her vest snapping back against her chest. She stumbled back against the chair, her breath coming in ragged, shallow wheezes. The room spun around her, gray and sickening, but through the fog she saw Emmett step between her and Cade, his broad back cutting off the sleet, the glare, and the man who had come to ruin her grandmother’s life.
