Chapter 5 - The Glass TowerThe next morning, the sun rose over Chicago in a wash of pale gold and slate grey. I didn't go back to the apartment I had shared with Finn. Instead, after a chaotic phone call with Jade—who alternated between screaming in horror and demanding a front-row seat to my new life—I checked into a suite at the Drake Hotel, courtesy of a black-card expense account Ronan had casually texted me instructions to use.
By nine o'clock, I was standing in the lobby of Callahan Tower, a forty-story granite fortress on Michigan Avenue that dominated the financial district.
I wore a sharply tailored charcoal pantsuit, white silk blouse, and Louboutin heels that clicked against the marble floor with the sound of a firing squad. My hair was pulled back into a severe, sleek bun. The girl who had baked homemade pasta in a floral apron two nights ago was dead. In her place stood a forensic auditor who answered only to the apex predator of the city.
When I stepped out of the private elevator on the thirty-eighth floor—the executive suite—Hayes was waiting by a set of heavy mahogany double doors.
“Ms. Croft,” Hayes nodded stiffly, his expression as wooden as ever. “Mr. Callahan is expecting you.”
He pushed the doors open, revealing an office that looked less like a corporate workspace and more like a war room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan, churning grey and white under the autumn wind. A massive mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, flanked by secure servers, monitors displaying live financial streams, and walls lined with leather-bound legal ledgers.
Ronan stood by the window, wearing a crisp charcoal suit jacket over a black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. He looked impossibly imposing against the morning light.
As the heavy doors clicked shut behind Hayes, Ronan turned slowly. His dark eyes swept over me from head to toe, lingering on the sharp lines of my suit before rising to meet my gaze with a look of undisguised approval.
“You clean up nicely, Lara,” Ronan said, his voice a low rumble across the quiet room.
“I’m a professional, Mr. Callahan,” I replied, walking toward the desk and placing my leather briefcase down with a crisp thud. “And if I’m going to untangle your logistics mess, I need access to the tier-one subsidiary ledgers dating back three years. Specifically the shipping contracts handled by the North Side division.”
Ronan didn't answer immediately. He walked around the desk, closing the distance between us until he was standing just inches away. The sheer physical presence of him—the quiet authority, the subtle scent of cedar and danger—sent a jolt of electricity straight through my bloodstream.
“You’re diving straight into the fire,” Ronan observed quietly.
“I didn't take this job to push paper, Ronan,” I replied, using his first name with deliberate, steady intent. “I took it to find out who else was helping Finn siphon funds from your empire. Because a twenty-something-year-old idiot like your son doesn't mastermind an international logistics bypass all on his own. He had inside help.”
Ronan’s eyes sharpened. A slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.
“You have teeth, Lara,” he murmured, his hand coming up to lightly brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, making my breath hitch. “I told you... you’re a weapon.”
Before I could formulate a reply, the secure intercom on his desk buzzed sharply.
Hayes’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Mr. Callahan. You have an unscheduled visitor in the lobby insisting on seeing you. It’s Finn.”
The temperature in the room plummeted instantly.
Ronan’s hand fell away from my neck, and his face hardened into a mask of pure ice. He walked back to his desk, pressing the intercom button.
May you like
“Send him up,” Ronan said coldly.
He looked up at me, his dark eyes glittering with a fierce, possessive intensity. “Stay right where you are, Lara. Let’s see what happens when a drowning rat tries to bite the hand that fed him.”
