Chapter 4 - THE SENTENCEEzra’s gaze locked onto Monica Hail, who was now trembling so violently she had to grip the edge of the reception desk to keep from collapsing.
"Mr... Mr. Valente, I... I didn't know!" Monica stammered, her voice pitching up into a hysterical squeak. "She didn't say who she was! She just walked in looking like a vagrant! It was protocol! Security protocol!"
"Protocol," Ezra repeated, the word tasting like poison on his tongue.
He motioned with two fingers toward his head of security, a towering man named Viktor who had fought beside Ezra in the Balkan wars.
"Viktor," Ezra said softly.
"Boss," Viktor rumbled, stepping forward.
"Lock down the hotel. Nobody enters. Nobody leaves. Pull every security log from the east docks to this lobby for the last forty-eight hours." Ezra paused, his slate-grey eyes locking onto Monica. "And throw this filthy, heartless excuse for a human being out of my building. Strip her credentials, freeze her accounts, and make sure she never works within five hundred miles of hospitality again."
"No! Please!" Monica shrieked, lunging forward, but Viktor’s massive hand clamped onto her shoulder like a hydraulic vise, halting her instantly. "Mr. Valente, you can't! I have rights! I'm an employee!"
"You were an employee," Ezra corrected coldly. "Now, you're nothing."
Viktor dragged Monica kicking and screaming toward the service elevators as the rest of the lobby guests pressed themselves flat against the walls, terrified to even breathe too loudly.
May you like
Ezra turned his attention back to Lena Carver, who was still standing bravely where she had planted her feet.
The kingpin softened his expression—just a fraction—as he looked at the woman in the stained housekeeping uniform.
