Chapter 3 - The Wolf in Tailored Clothing“Let’s get one thing straight, Ms. Harper: in my world, loyalty isn’t bought with a paycheck; it’s forged in fire.”
Sebastian turned away from the panoramic window, his shadow stretching across the hardwood floor toward Cerberus, who let out a low rumble of agreement.
Nina crossed her arms, fighting the overwhelming urge to bolt back down the private elevator. “And what kind of fire are we talking about, Mr. Crowe? Because so far, your version of ‘recruitment’ sounds a lot like kidnapping with extra steps.”
A flicker of genuine amusement crossed Sebastian’s harsh features. He walked over to a sleek sideboard, picked up a heavy manila folder, and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of her.
“Open it. That’s your first assignment.”
Nina hesitated, then untied the red string. Inside lay a glossy stack of high-resolution photographs, financial spreadsheets, and a printed guest list for an exclusive high-society charity gala scheduled for Friday night at the Drake Hotel. Clipped to the top was a crisp, platinum-embossed invitation.
“The Chicago Heritage Foundation Gala,” Nina read aloud, her eyes scanning the names. “Politicians, judges, real estate moguls… and Caleb Whitmore.”
“Whitmore is hosting the silent auction,” Sebastian said, pouring himself another finger of bourbon. “He’s using the foundation as a front to launder acquisition funds for the West Side land grab. I need someone on the inside. Someone who knows how to blend into a room full of apex predators without looking like a meal.”
“And you think a cocktail waitress from a sketchy supper club can pass for high society?” Nina scoffed, looking up at him skeptically.
“You have a photographic memory, you notice details most people ignore, and last night you stared down a seventy-pound pit bull without blinking,” Sebastian pointed out smoothly. “Besides, you won’t be going alone.”
He gestured toward the corner. Cerberus stood up, shook his massive frame, and trotted over, planting his heavy head directly against Nina’s knee.
“Wait,” Nina choked out, her eyes widening. “You can’t take a fighting dog to a black-tie gala at the Drake!”
“He’s registered as a certified emotional support and executive protection animal under a federal exemption,” Sebastian said smoothly, pulling a sleek black leather harness from behind the sofa. “And he likes you. That makes him uniquely qualified.”
Before Nina could argue further, the office door clicked open. A sharp, elegant woman in a tailored emerald pantsuit strode in, carrying a garment bag slung over one shoulder.
“Mr. Crowe, the security clearances for the Drake are—oh.” The woman stopped dead in her tracks, her sharp amber-flecked eyes locking onto Nina. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. “So this is the waitress.”
“Elena, meet Nina Harper,” Sebastian said smoothly. “Nina, this is Elena Vance, my chief of security and the only reason my empire hasn’t burned to the ground while I’m busy.”
Elena stepped closer, eyeing Nina with an appraising look that made her feel like a racehorse being inspected at an auction. “Not bad. High cheekbones, sharp jawline. With the right dress, she’ll look like she was born on the Gold Coast.” Elena unzipped the garment bag, revealing a breathtaking, backless midnight-blue silk gown that seemed to shimmer under the office lights. “Try it on.”
“I didn’t say yes to this!” Nina protested, stepping back.
May you like
“Your mother’s next dialysis payment cleared at 9:00 AM this morning,” Sebastian said quietly, his voice dropping all pretense of negotiation. “Paid in full by Crowe Enterprises. Along with a three-month advance on your new consulting salary. You don’t have the luxury of saying no, Nina. Neither does your family.”
Nina looked from the stunning dress to the heavy manila folder, and finally up at Sebastian Crowe’s unyielding, handsome face. The trap was shut. She was locked inside his world now, and the only way out was straight through the fire.
