Chapter 3 - The Fortress on the Hudson
The Viscanti estate loomed out of the fog like a gothic citadel perched on the cliffs overlooking the Hudson River. Wrought-iron gates swung open automatically as the Maybach approached, guided by armed guards stationed in reinforced concrete security booths.
The main house was a sprawling estate of dark stone, ivy-covered walls, and towering arched windows that gleamed under amber security lights.
When the car stopped at the grand entrance, Enzo opened the door immediately. Genevieve didn't wait for Mateo; she stepped out onto the wet cobblestone courtyard, pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders against the biting river wind.
“Inside,” Mateo instructed, walking up behind her, his hand resting firmly at the small of her back, guiding her forward not with violence, but with an absolute, immovable authority.
The interior was a study in intimidating luxury. High vaulted ceilings, dark mahogany paneling, and massive oil paintings of stern-faced men lined the grand foyer. A sweeping marble staircase dominated the center of the hall.
A middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight bun and wearing a crisp black dress hurried out from the west corridor.
“Mr. Viscanti,” she said, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Genevieve’s torn hem and pale face. “We heard about the hotel. Are you—”
“I’m unharmed, Mrs. Vance,” Mateo interrupted smoothly. “Prepare the east master suite for Miss Sinclair. Ensure security is doubled on that wing. No one enters without my explicit authorization.”
Mrs. Vance turned her gaze to Genevieve, her expression softening with a mixture of pity and professional curiosity. “Right away, sir. Follow me, Miss Sinclair.”
Genevieve hesitated, looking back at Mateo. He was already unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket, handing it to a secondary guard who had appeared silently from the shadows.
May you like
“You’re not locking me in a room,” Genevieve said, her chin lifting defiantly.
“It’s not a prison, Genevieve. It’s the safest place in the state of New York,” Mateo replied without turning around as he walked toward his private study. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we figure out who else in my organization needs to be buried.”
