Chapter 8 - The Syndicate’s UltimatumThe grand foyer of Westbridge Manor was freezing.
The massive double doors stood open just an inch, letting in a swirl of white snow and biting wind. Standing in the center of the marble floor was a woman in a floor-length white mink coat, her platinum blonde hair pulled back into a severe chignon, and ice-blue eyes that mirrored Sebastian’s own dangerous intensity.
Elena Vance did not look like a woman who had just driven through a blizzard. She looked like a queen inspecting a conquered province.
Sebastian descended the grand staircase with slow, measured steps, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. Chloe stood a few steps behind him, her obsidian portfolio clutched in her hand like a shield.
“Elena,” Sebastian said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. “You’ve traveled a long way to walk into a trap.”
Elena let out a sharp, cold laugh, unbuttoning her mink coat to reveal a sharp black designer suit underneath. “Save the posturing, Sebastian. You know as well as I do that the Boston syndicate doesn't belong to you alone anymore. If you keep waging war against the federal bureau over those stupid Nazi diamonds, you’re going to bring down the entire East Coast network.”
“The diamonds are mine by right of restitution,” Sebastian replied, stepping onto the ground floor. “And your brother made the fatal error of threatening a woman under my protection.”
Elena’s ice-blue eyes snapped away from Sebastian and landed directly on Chloe.
She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. She looked Chloe up and down—taking in her full figure, her crimson dress, and the undeniable confidence in her posture—with a look of thinly veiled disdain.
“So this is the academic plaything you risked a federal war over,” Elena purred, a cruel smile touching her lips. “A chunky little archivist from Hawthorne and Vale. I expected a femme fatale, Sebastian. Not a librarian who stumbled into a rich man's bed.”
Before Elena could finish the sentence, the temperature in the foyer dropped ten degrees.
Sebastian crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer, suffocating menace rolling off him made Elena stumble back a half-step.
“If you ever speak her name with that tone in this house again,” Sebastian whispered, his voice like grinding ice, “I will ship you back to New York in a pine box, family crest or no family crest.”
Elena swallowed hard, her composure cracking for a fraction of a second before she forced a bitter smile. “You’re losing your mind, Sebastian. You’re letting a woman blind you to business. And when the New York board votes to strip you of your title next Tuesday, you’ll see just how much loyalty a librarian in a red dress has left to give you.”
With a flick of her wrist, Elena spun around, grabbed her coat, and stormed out into the blizzard, slamming the heavy front doors behind her.
Silence descended upon the grand foyer.
Chloe stood on the stairs, her heart hammering, her knuckles white against her portfolio.
Sebastian turned around slowly, looking up at her. The harsh anger in his face melted away into something raw, vulnerable, and deeply intense. He climbed the stairs two at a time until he stood right in front of her.
“She doesn't know anything,” Sebastian murmured, reaching out to cup her cheek with his rough hand. “She doesn't know that you are the only reason I haven't burned the entire Boston bureau to the ground.”
Chloe looked up into his dark, storm-tossed eyes, feeling the fierce, unbreakable bond tightening between them.
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“The New York board meets on Tuesday,” Chloe whispered. “And you’re going to need more than legal briefs to keep your seat at the table.”
“I have you,” Sebastian replied with absolute certainty. “And that is all I’ve ever needed.”
