Chapter 9 - Shadows of the PastThe private island off the coast of Maine was quiet, save for the relentless crash of Atlantic waves against the jagged granite cliffs.
Three weeks had passed since the night at the Chicago safe house. Julian Vance was currently sitting in a maximum-security federal penitentiary facing forty counts of corporate fraud, international money laundering, and conspiracy to commit murder—his empire completely dismantled, his assets seized, and his name erased from the financial register.
Inside the sprawling stone estate overlooking the ocean, the air smelled of burning cedar and saltwater.
I sat at a large mahogany desk in the library, the morning light streaming through tall windows, illuminating the pages of a thick ledger spread out before me. My bandaged hand had healed into a thin silver scar across my palm, a permanent reminder of the fire extinguisher and the night everything changed.
Footsteps echoed softly on the hardwood floor, followed by the familiar, intoxicating scent of storm water and expensive cologne.
Gabriel walked in, carrying a small porcelain cup of black coffee. He set it gently down beside my laptop, leaning over the back of my chair to look at the columns of numbers.
"You're working too hard," he said, his voice low and warm against my neck. "The European accounts are already balanced. You own forty percent of the logistics chain now, Claire. You can delegate."
"An accountant never delegates the master ledger, Gabriel," I replied without looking up, though a small smile betrayed me. "Especially not when your chief executive in London is trying to write off private yacht maintenance as a corporate tax write-off."
Gabriel chuckled softly, a rich, deep sound that still sent a shiver down my spine. He reached around me, his hands resting lightly on my hips as he pulled me back against his chest.
"Let him try," Gabriel murmured into my hair. "He won't last twenty-four hours once you send him one of your polite corporate emails. You’re more terrifying than my entire enforcement division."
"I am merely thorough," I corrected playfully, turning my head to look up at him.
Gabriel’s expression softened. The dark, ruthless kingpin of Chicago dissolved into the man who had spent three terrifying hours searching for a baby in the snow. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a slow, possessive kiss that made every memory of my old, quiet life fade into absolute insignificance.
From the hallway came the soft, familiar gurgle of baby laughter, followed by Mason's gruff voice murmuring, "Alright, little man, let's go check if your auntie Claire is busy destroying another balance sheet."
Gabriel pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, a wicked, triumphant spark in his dark gaze.
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"They're coming," Gabriel whispered.
"Let them," I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck as the door swung open. "We have the numbers."
