Chapter 2 - The Fortified Penthouse Where I Realized My Boss Was No Longer Just My Employer
The private ambulance did not take me back to my modest walk-up apartment in Lincoln Park.
Instead, under the watchful gaze of four armed men in unmarked black Suburbans, I was escorted straight to the private elevator of the Moretti Tower—a glass-and-steel fortress piercing the Chicago sky.
Dante carried me across the threshold himself.
I had tried to protest the moment my feet touched the ground outside the elevator. “Dante, I can walk. The doctor said walking helps the ribs heal.”
He didn’t even argue. He simply slipped one arm behind my back, the other beneath my knees, and lifted me against his chest with a terrifying, effortless strength.
The faint scent of cedarwood, expensive wool, and pure adrenaline filled my senses. My heart hammered against my bruised ribs, each beat sending a sharp throb of pain through my chest, but the sudden heat running beneath my skin had nothing to do with injury.
“You won’t walk until my private physician clears you,” Dante murmured, his jaw tight. “You’ve bled enough on my account.”
He carried me into the master suite—a vast, minimalist sanctuary overlooking Lake Michigan. It was decorated in deep slate, brushed steel, and dark walnut. In the center sat an oversized king bed covered in ivory Italian linens.
He laid me down with an almost agonizing gentleness, adjusting the pillows behind my head so I wouldn't strain my neck.
“Where are your clothes?” I asked, looking around. “This is your room.”
“It’s yours now,” he replied calmly, unbuttoning his overcoat and tossing it onto an armchair. “The security perimeter is concentrated here. The glass is reinforced ballistic polymer. There are two armed guards outside this door and eight more stationed on the roof and ground lobby.”
“Dante... this is insane. I’m just an executive assistant. I answer your emails and verify shipping invoices.”
He paused, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that pinned me to the mattress.
“You’ve never been just an assistant to me, Harper. And the men who touched you made the fatal mistake of believing you were a pawn they could discard.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek titanium flash drive.
“The laptop they stole had an encrypted ghost drive,” he continued. “They think they have my shipping route manifests. What they actually possess is a tracking virus that triggered the second they tried to crack your password twenty minutes ago.”
My eyes widened. “You tracked them?”
“I know the warehouse in Cicero where the Lincoln is parked. I know the names of the three men who laid their hands on you.”
A cold shudder ran through me. “What are you going to do?”
May you like
Dante stepped to the edge of the bed, leaning down until his lips were inches from my ear. His breath was warm, contrasting fiercely with the venom in his words.
“I’m going to show them why this city belongs to me.”
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