Chapter 4 - The Art of the Counter-Offer
Dominic’s grip tightened until it burned, his fingers locking around my wrist like a steel shackle. For a terrifying second, I thought he might actually break bone to keep me in the room. But he didn't pull me back; he just stared at me, the iron control he prided himself on finally shattering into dust.
“You don’t know what you’re playing with, Claire,” he ground out, his voice a low, gravelly threat. “Cross isn’t a business partner you can outsmart. He’s a shark who smells blood in the water. If you walk out that door and hand him that ledger, he won’t reward you—he’ll use you to hollow me out, and then he’ll discard you the second you’re no longer useful.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for his permission,” I replied, yanking my arm free with a sudden burst of adrenaline.
I didn't give him a chance to answer. I walked out of the study, descended the stairs, and grabbed my coat from the foyer. Behind me, I heard heavy footsteps charging down the stairs, but by the time Dominic reached the front hall, the heavy oak door had already clicked shut behind me.
The Chicago wind hit me like a physical wall, the sub-zero temperatures biting through my cashmere sweater. I didn't care. I hailed a cab on Lake Forest’s quiet residential street, gave the driver an address in downtown Chicago, and pulled out my burner phone—the one Tessa had slipped into my purse months ago "just in case."
I dialed Adrian Cross’s direct line. It rang twice before a smooth, amused voice answered.
“Well, well. The runaway bride returns. Did Dominic lock you out, or did you finally realize you parked your carriage at the wrong castle?”
“Cut the act, Adrian,” I said, my voice devoid of any tremor. “I have the Vanguard Holdings ledger. Every shell company, every property deed, every offshore account tying you and Dominic together in a neat little bow.”
Silence fell over the line. The ambient sounds of jazz and clinking glasses in the background vanished as Adrian stepped into a quiet room. When he spoke again, all the playful mockery was gone, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a crime lord.
“Where are you?”
“In a cab, heading toward the South Loop. But I’m not handing it over over the phone. If we’re going to talk business, we do it face-to-face. Your private lounge at the Gilded Rook—twenty minutes.”
“Bold,” Adrian murmured, a low chuckle vibrating through the receiver. “Careful, Claire. Playing with fire burns both sides.”
“Let it burn,” I said, and hung up.
Twenty minutes later, the cab dropped me off in front of the Gilded Rook, a subterranean, ultra-exclusive lounge hidden beneath a dilapidated brick warehouse in the South Loop. Two of Adrian’s armed enforcers stood by the reinforced steel door. They took one look at my face—cold, devoid of fear, carved from the same ice as Dominic’s—and stepped aside without a word.
Inside, the lounge was dark, smelling of expensive leather, cigar smoke, and spilled whiskey. Adrian was sitting in a high-backed velvet booth near the back, swirling a glass of amber liquor. He looked up as I approached, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.
“You’ve got massive balls for a woman wearing cashmere, Claire,” Adrian said, leaning back and studying me like an interesting specimen under a microscope. “Sit down. Tell me what kind of grenade you’re planning to throw.”
I didn't sit. I placed my leather handbag on the table, unzipped it, pulled out the black ledger with the silver serpent, and dropped it right onto the center of the mahogany table.
Adrian’s eyes flicked to the book. He didn't touch it immediately, but the calculating gleam in his eyes told me he knew exactly what it was.
“Dominic thinks he owns the city,” I began, leaning forward and resting my palms on the table, invading his space. “He thinks he can keep me locked in a mansion like a pet bird while he plays both sides of the Chicago underworld. But he made one fatal mistake.”
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“Oh?” Adrian raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “And what’s that?”
“He underestimated me,” I whispered. “He thinks I’m a victim. I want to be a partner. Vanguard Holdings splits three ways starting tonight—you, Dominic, and me.”
