Chapter 5 - The Red Door ClubTwo weeks later, Rachel Hayes was no longer an ER nurse.
She lived in a heavily guarded penthouse loft in the Gold Coast district, courtesy of "corporate security," though everyone knew who paid the rent. Her old apartment in Logan Square had been cleared out while she was on shift, her meager belongings packed into high-end leather trunks and moved before she could object.
She still wore scrubs during her shifts at Harbor Mercy, but her title had changed to "Director of Special Patient Logistics"—a fictional administrative role designed to keep her close to Caleb, who had discharged himself against medical advice twelve days after the shooting.
Tonight, however, she wasn't at the hospital.
She stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror in a stunning, emerald-green silk dress that hugged her curves, her hair pinned up in an elegant chignon. Enzo stood by the door of the dressing room, wearing a bespoke charcoal suit that concealed a tactical vest and a holster.
"Mr. Rossi is waiting downstairs," Enzo said, his voice expressionless.
"I'm not going to a mob meeting, Enzo," Rachel said, turning to face him, adjusting a diamond-encrusted bracelet she had tried to refuse three times before Caleb insisted. "You said we were going to dinner to discuss hospital funding."
"I said we were going to dinner," Enzo corrected calmly. "Caleb likes to combine business with meals. Welcome to the Red Door Club."
The Red Door Club was an exclusive, unmarked establishment tucked away behind an industrial warehouse district near the Chicago River. To the city inspectors, it was a private social club for wealthy investors. To the underworld, it was the neutral ground where the five families of Chicago met to negotiate truces, divide territory, and settle scores.
When Rachel stepped out of the black armored SUV, her breath caught in her throat.
Armed men in sharp suits stood at every corner. The air smelled of damp concrete, river water, and impending violence. Enzo guided her firmly by the elbow through a set of heavy wrought-iron doors, down a dimly lit flight of stairs lined with Persian rugs and armed sentries.
Inside, the club was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, amber glow over velvet booths, mahogany tables, and men and women dressed in haute couture, drinking vintage scotch while classical jazz played softly in the background.
At the center VIP booth sat Caleb Rossi.
He looked devastatingly handsome in a tailored black tuxedo, his posture rigid despite the lingering stiffness in his shoulder. When he saw Rachel walk down the steps, his gray eyes lit up with a dangerous, possessive warmth. He stood up immediately, ignoring his physical discomfort to greet her.
"Rachel," Caleb said, his voice smooth as silk. "You look breathtaking."
"Don't start, Caleb," Rachel replied, slipping past him to sit on the plush velvet couch. She accepted a glass of sparkling water from a waiter without looking at him. "You dragged me out here under false pretenses. What is this?"
Before Caleb could answer, a heavy silence fell over the surrounding tables.
A man with slicked-back gray hair and a sharp, cruel smile approached their booth, flanked by four towering bodyguards. It was Victor Vance, the head of the Vance Syndicate—the very man suspected of ordering the hit on Caleb two weeks ago.
"Caleb," Vance purred, his eyes darting toward Rachel with predatory interest. "I hear rumors you had a close brush with death recently. Glad to see you're still kicking. And who is this lovely creature? I didn't know you traded your weapons for nurses."
Caleb didn't stand up. He slowly swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass, his expression turning into absolute ice.
"Watch your tongue, Victor," Caleb said softly, his voice dropping an octave. "She’s not someone you talk about."
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Vance laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Careful, boy. You survived a few bullets in the ER, but luck runs out. Especially when you surround yourself with amateurs."
Rachel felt her blood boil. Without thinking, she set her glass down, stood up from the booth, and stepped right up to the mafia boss who terrified half the city.
