Chapter 3 - Dock Forty and the Rules of EngagementThe morning fog rolled off Lake Michigan in thick, gray sheets, wrapping the colossal steel cranes and shipping containers of the North Side terminal in a ghostly shroud. Dock forty was vast, echoing with the distant sound of heavy machinery and the sharp cries of seagulls wheeling overhead.
I stepped out of my sedan wearing my faded denim jacket and sensible boots, clutching a manila folder containing Mom’s medical bills against my chest like a shield.
Two men in dark tailored suits stood near the edge of the concrete pier. They didn't block my path, but their eyes tracked every step I took with militant precision. Beyond them, leaning against the fender of a black Mercedes-Maybach, stood Dominic Moretti.
Up close, Dominic was an imposing figure. Broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed in a charcoal overcoat, with dark, sharp eyes that missed nothing and a jawline carved from granite. He wasn't yelling or surrounded by an army of thugs; he carried the quiet, devastating gravity of a man who owned the ground beneath his feet.
He watched me approach, holding a paper cup of black coffee.
“You’re punctual,” Dominic observed, his voice cutting through the damp morning air. “Most people given an ultimatum by me spend the night packing bags for another state.”
“Other people don't have medical bills due on the first of the month,” I shot back, stopping ten feet away. “You wanted to talk about last night. Let’s get it over with. If you’re going to fire me from deliveries, fine. If you’re going to threaten me, save your breath.”
Dominic took a slow sip of his coffee, his dark gaze scanning my face with intense, unsettling curiosity.
“Fire you? You were never on my payroll, Miss Carter. You worked for a third-party catering courier,” he corrected mildly. He set his coffee cup down on the hood of the car and crossed his arms over his chest. “Last night, you embarrassed my future wife in front of the most influential people in Chicago. By all the rules of the syndicate and high society, I should make you disappear into the shipping yards.”
“Try it,” I said, shifting my weight onto the balls of my feet, my hands dropping naturally into a defensive stance. “Let’s see how many of your guards end up in the water before you reach me.”
A sudden, sharp flash of amusement broke across Dominic’s stern face. A deep, resonant laugh escaped his lips—not mocking, but genuinely impressed.
“Competitve martial arts,” Dominic murmured, tilting his head. “A regional junior champion out of Evanston, before your father’s accident forced you to drop out and spend eight years working double shifts to keep a dying woman afloat. Am I missing anything?”
My stomach clenched. “You investigated me.”
“In my line of work, ignorance is a fatal disease,” Dominic replied evenly. He reached into his overcoat and pulled out a thick white envelope, tossing it casually onto the hood of the car. “Open it.”
I hesitated, stepping forward to flip open the flap. Inside sat certified hospital documents, fully paid medical clearances, and an open-ended oncology-and-dialysis contract with Northwestern Memorial Hospital, guaranteeing top-tier care for Linda Carter for the next five years, completely free of charge.
I stared at the papers, my breath catching in my throat. “What is this?”
“An opening offer,” Dominic said softly.
“Why?”
“Because Vanessa is a liability I am rapidly losing patience with,” Dominic said, his voice turning cold as ice. “She treats my world like a playground, and she lacks the discipline or the intelligence to survive it. But more importantly... I have an internal leak in my logistics network. Someone inside my inner circle is feeding shipping manifests to Adrian Cross, my primary rival.”
I looked up from the papers, my eyes narrowing. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything,” Dominic said, stepping closer. “Adrian’s men never look twice at a food delivery driver crossing syndicate boundaries late at night. You know the city roads, you know how to fade into the background, and unlike my associates, you cannot be bought with cheap bribes because your price is already set: your mother’s life.”
“You want me to spy on your own men?” I whispered incredulously.
May you like
“I want you to become my eyes and ears,” Dominic corrected, his gaze locking onto mine with absolute authority. “Work my deliveries. Cover the high-risk zones. Find out who is selling my routes to Cross. In exchange, your mother’s medical debt is wiped clean today, and I provide absolute protection for both of you.”
I looked at the hospital contract in my hands, then back at the powerful, dangerous man standing before me. I was stepping into a war zone, but for the first time in eight years, I had a weapon powerful enough to fight back.
