Chapter 6 - Blood and LedgerThe silence that fell over the patio was heavy enough to crush bone.
Dante lunged forward, his face twisted into an ugly, snarling mask of pure panic and rage. "You bitch—!"
He didn't even make it two steps.
From the shadows near the patio archway, two of Maxim’s guards moved with terrifying, practiced speed. One grabbed Dante by the collar, slamming him face-first against the stone railing with a brutal thud that rattled the glassware. The other twisted Dante’s arm behind his back until a sharp crack echoed through the night air.
Dante screamed, dropping to his knees, his face pressed against the cold stone.
"Get your hands off me! Maxim! Tell them! I'm family! I'm your blood!" Dante shrieked, spattering blood and drool onto the patio floor.
Maxim didn't move. He stood completely still, his hands buried in the pockets of his cashmere sweater, watching his cousin writhe with eyes as cold and dead as winter ice.
"Blood," Maxim said softly, his voice cutting through Dante’s screams like a razor, "is why you aren't already breathing through a tube at the bottom of the East River, Dante."
He turned his gaze slowly from his cousin to Adelaide. The firelight flickered across the sharp angles of his face, highlighting a look of dark, calculating fascination.
"Four million dollars," Maxim murmured, stepping closer to Adelaide until he was standing close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him. "That’s what he stole from under my nose."
"That's just what's on paper," Adelaide replied, her voice steady, though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "If we audit the past three years, the number is closer to fifteen million."
Maxim let out a slow, dark breath. He reached out, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her dark hair just enough to tilt her face up toward his. The touch was intimate, dangerous, and possessive all at once.
"You have an extraordinary mind, Adelaide," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "And a terrifying mouth. Exactly what I need."
He turned back to the guards holding his cousin.
"Take him to the Brooklyn warehouse," Maxim commanded, his voice flat and final. "Strip him of every asset, every car, every bank account connected to my name. Then put him on a one-way freighter to Buenos Aires. If he ever sets foot in New York again, feed him to the fish."
"Maxim! No! Please! Maxim!" Dante’s screams faded into the distance as the guards dragged him kicking and screaming across the stone patio and down the gravel drive.
When the heavy oak doors slammed shut inside the house, cutting off the noise, Maxim finally dropped his hand from Adelaide's neck. He stepped back, gesturing to a bottle of scotch on the patio table.
"Drink?"
"No," Adelaide said, smoothing down the front of her emerald dress. "I have a morning audit meeting at eight o'clock, and I need a clear head."
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Maxim smiled—a thin, dangerous, genuine smile that reached his dark eyes for the very first time.
"Of course you do, Director Callahan," he said softly. "Of course you do."
