Chapter 3 - The Price of an EmpireThe sun was barely cresting over the East River when Dominic’s town car pulled through the iron gates of a sprawling limestone estate in Greenwich, Connecticut.
I had fallen asleep somewhere around 3:00 AM, my head resting against the plush leather upholstery while the city blurred past outside the tinted windows. When I woke up, the car was idling in front of a grand neoclassical portico surrounded by acres of manicured lawns and towering oak trees.
"Where are we?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and blinking against the morning light.
"My home," Dominic said from the driver's side—wait, no, Leo was driving; Dominic sat beside me, flipping through a stack of physical dossiers tied with red ribbon. "After what happened last night, returning to your apartment in Manhattan would be a tactical error. Nathan is desperate, and desperate men make predictable, violent mistakes."
"Nathan isn't violent," I scoffed, opening the door and stepping out onto the cobblestone drive. The crisp morning air filled my lungs, sharp and invigorating. "Nathan’s idea of violence is writing a scathing Yelp review."
"Nathan isn't the only variable you need to worry about," Dominic replied, stepping out behind me. Leo immediately moved to hand him a fresh leather briefcase. "The development trust your ex-fiancé was laundering money through wasn't just his operation. He was fronting for a syndicate out of Chicago led by a man named Viktor Vance. When Nathan loses everything today, Vance is going to look for someone to absorb the financial loss."
The reality of what I had walked into washed over me in a cold wave. For three years, I had thought my biggest problem was choosing floral arrangements for a wedding to a cheating sociopath. Now, I was standing on the estate of a retired mafia kingpin, hunted by Chicago syndicates because my ex-fiancé was a corrupt criminal.
"You knew," I said, turning to face Dominic as we walked up the grand marble steps of the entrance. "When you agreed to help me in the ballroom... you already knew about Vance."
Dominic paused with his hand on the heavy mahogany door. He looked down at me, the morning sun catching the silver at his temples.
"I knew Nathan was a thief," Dominic corrected calmly. "The Chicago connection surfaced on my desk at midnight. But even if I had known beforehand, Sophie... it wouldn't have changed my answer."
"Why?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why help me? I'm just a woman who interrupted your evening to make her ex jealous."
Dominic pushed the door open, revealing a breathtaking entryway framed by a dual curved staircase and a massive crystal chandelier that made the Grand Sterling’s look modest.
"Because," Dominic said, stepping inside and holding the door for me, "people like Nathan take what belongs to others because they assume no one will ever hold them accountable. You decided to hold him accountable. I respect that. In fact, I collect people who know how to fight back."
A housekeeper—a stern, middle-aged woman in a black dress—appeared silently from the hallway, taking Dominic’s briefcase and offering me a polite, deferential nod.
"Prepare the east guest suite for Miss Blake," Dominic instructed. "And have the kitchen send up coffee and breakfast immediately."
"Yes, Mr. Bellardi."
"I can't stay here," I protested, though my legs were suddenly heavy with exhaustion. "I have my own apartment, my own life, my work—"
"Your apartment has been compromised," Dominic interrupted gently, cutting off my argument before it could begin. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted tablet, handing it to me. "Take a look at that."
I tapped the screen. It was a live security feed of my Manhattan apartment building lobby from twenty minutes ago. On the screen, two heavy-set men in dark jackets were flashing a fake badge to the night doorman, demanding access to my third-floor unit.
My breath hitched. "Who are they?"
"Vance’s clean-up crew," Dominic said, his voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous register that had made Nathan turn white in the ballroom. "They aren't looking for money, Sophie. They're looking for the hard drives containing the financial audit you compiled for the foundation. The ones Nathan claims you stole."
I stared at the screen, the terrifying reality sinking in. Nathan hadn't just cheated on me; he had set me up to take the fall for millions of dollars in embezzled syndicate funds. If I had gone home last night, I wouldn't have just found a messy breakup waiting for me—I would have found a bullet.
"So," Dominic continued, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head up to meet his dark, unblinking gaze. "You can stay here behind twenty-foot security walls, private guards, and an intelligence network that knows when a sparrow sneezes in Cook County... or you can walk out those front doors and take your chances with Viktor Vance."
The choice wasn't a choice at all. It was survival.
"Fine," I whispered, gripping the tablet tighter. "I'll stay. But I am not your prisoner, Dominic Bellardi. I want to help dismantle Vance's operation from the inside."
May you like
A slow, approving smile touched the corner of Dominic’s lips. It was the kind of smile that made him look decades younger, and infinitely more dangerous.
"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied. "Breakfast is served in ten minutes. Then we go to work."
