Chapter 5 - THE GATES OF THE CALLAHAN ESTATE
The Callahan estate sat atop a limestone ridge overlooking Lake Michigan, surrounded by three-mile-long iron security fences and dense stands of ancient oak trees.
The black Lincoln Navigator dropped Sophie off at the grand front portico.
A butler in a crisp black suit met her at the double doors, bowing slightly. "Right this way, Miss Miller. Mr. Callahan is expecting you in the west library."
The interior of the mansion was breathtaking.
Dark mahogany paneling, priceless oil paintings, and towering marble fireplaces that burned real cedar logs.
The west library smelled of old paper, leather bindings, and expensive cigar smoke.
Christian Callahan sat behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing a stack of financial ledgers. He had removed his suit jacket, wearing only a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms corded with muscle.
He looked up as Sophie entered, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind her.
"Sit down, Sophie," he said, gesturing to the leather armchair opposite his desk.
She hesitated, then sat down, smoothing her skirt over her knees. "Mr. Callahan. Thank you for... for what you did for my mother. But I don't understand why I'm here."
Christian closed the ledger, lacing his fingers together on the desk.
"Vivian Croft—or Veronica Vance, as she actually is—was part of a deep-cover federal operation designed to dismantle my supply lines," Christian explained calmly. "For six months, she fed them false information. But she was also gathering intelligence on my personal life. She knew every weakness I had."
He leaned forward, his gray eyes pinning her in place.
"Except she didn't count on a waitress dropping a fork."
"I... I didn't mean to," Sophie stammered. "It was an accident. I was nervous because of the hospital call."
"Accidents in my world are very rare," Christian said softly. "Most things happen for a reason. You needed money. I needed a blind spot cleared. It's a balanced equation."
He stood up, walking around the desk to stand by the tall gothic window overlooking the dark, churning waters of the lake.
"The police and federal prosecutors are tearing themselves apart trying to figure out how Veronica’s wiretap was exposed," Christian continued, a faint smile touching his lips. "They think it was an internal leak from within their own cyber-crime division. Nobody suspects the girl with the silver tray."
Sophie’s breath caught. "You... you didn't tell them it was me?"
"If I told them a waitress exposed a high-level federal intelligence asset, the FBI would have you in protective custody within an hour, and my enemies would target you to get to me," Christian said, turning back to face her. "From this moment on, you never worked at Le Jardin Noir. You never dropped a fork."
"Then who am I?" Sophie whispered.
Christian walked over to the desk, picked up a small leather-bound folder, and slid it across the mahogany surface toward her.
"Starting tomorrow, you are my new corporate liaison for community outreach and charitable endowments," Christian said. "Your salary will be triple what you made at the restaurant. Your mother’s care is secured for life. And if anyone ever asks how you came to work for the Callahan family..."
He paused, his eyes holding hers with absolute intensity.
May you like
"You tell them you were smart enough to be in the right room at the right time."
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