Chapter 3 - The Golden TrapLiving in Ronan Callahan’s shadow was like standing beside a sleeping volcano.
By the next afternoon, the news of Finn Callahan's sudden "medical leave" from Callahan Development hit the Chicago financial papers. Behind closed doors, Ronan had stripped his son of his executive credentials, frozen his corporate accounts, and barred him from the family estate in Lake Forest.
Meanwhile, I remained in Ronan’s Gold Coast penthouse.
Viktor had brought three suitcases of my clothes from my apartment while I was asleep, along with my laptop, my books, and my sketchbooks. Ronan had assigned two security guards to stand outside the building's lobby, ensuring Finn—or anyone sent by the Shaw family—could not come within a block of me.
At 7:00 PM, the private elevator doors opened, and Ronan walked in.
He wore a dark charcoal suit, his tie loosened, looking exhausted yet terrifyingly handsome. He carried a leather folder under his arm, throwing it onto the dining table before pouring himself a glass of neat bourbon.
"How are you holding up?" he asked, walking over to where I sat on the leather sofa, sketching the lake skyline in my book.
"I feel like a very well-cared-for prisoner," I replied, setting my pencil down and offering him a wry, guarded smile. "Your guards wouldn't even let me step out to buy coffee this morning."
"The Shaw family knows Finn was compromised," Ronan said, sitting down in the armchair across from me, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Dominic Shaw thinks I am weak right now because my heir turned out to be an idiot. Until I neutralize the threat Dominic poses, you are safer here."
"I am an archivist at the Chicago Historical Society, Ronan," I said, leaning forward. "I evaluate old maps and historical deeds. I am not part of a mob war."
"You were Finn’s girlfriend for two years," Ronan countered, his gray eyes fixing onto mine with lethal precision. "To the streets of Chicago, that makes you Callahan property. And Dominic Shaw loves taking what belongs to a Callahan."
The word property hung in the air, thick and heavy.
I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. "I am not property. Not Finn's, and certainly not yours."
Ronan slowly set his bourbon glass down on the table. He stood up, his massive frame towering over me as he crossed the distance between us in two long, deliberate strides.
He stopped inches from me. The scent of cedar, expensive liquor, and dark leather enveloped my senses.
"You are correct," Ronan murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a violent shiver straight down my spine. "You were never Finn's. He didn't know what he had. He treated a diamond like a piece of glass."
My breath hitched in my throat. "And you?"
"I know the value of what stands in front of me," Ronan whispered, leaning down until his lips were bare inches from mine. "And I don't let diamonds fall into the hands of swine."
The tension between us pulled taut like a bowstring. Every instinct in my brain screamed that this was insane—this was my ex-boyfriend’s father, a dangerous man who ruled Chicago's dark underbelly with an iron fist. Yet, as I looked into his dark, storm-gray eyes, I didn't feel fear.
I felt a fierce, burning heat that made my blood sing.
Before either of us could break the pull, his private phone rang again.
Ronan pulled back slightly, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he pulled the phone from his pocket. He answered it, placing it to his ear. "Speak."
May you like
Viktor’s urgent voice came through the speaker loud enough for me to hear. "Boss, we have a situation at the riverfront warehouse. Dominic Shaw’s men just intercepted a Callahan shipping container. And Finn is down there trying to handle it himself."
Ronan’s eyes flashed with pure, lethal fury. "Get the cars," he growled. "I'm on my way."
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