Chapter 5 - The Fortress of Glass
The safehouse was a massive, ultra-modern penthouse situated atop a glass tower overlooking the Delaware River. It was a stark contrast to the dark, damp theater—clean, silent, and smelling of expensive polish and fresh rain.
"Clara will get you clean clothes," Declan said, leading Sadie into the spacious living room where floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city lights shimmering in the dark. "And Marcus will tend to your burns."
"I don't need Marcus," Sadie said, sitting on the edge of a white leather sofa, her body still trembling from the adrenaline. "I need a kitchen."
Declan stopped, his jacket already removed, showing the broad, muscular contours of his shoulders beneath his silk shirt. He looked at her, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his hard expression.
"A kitchen?" he asked. "You just escaped a mafia hit, Sadie. You should be sleeping."
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"Cooking is how I process things," she said, her fingers tracing the smooth handle of the stiletto she had placed on the table. "If I don't cook, my brain starts thinking about those dead men. And I don't want to think about them."
"Very well," Declan said, gesturing to the massive, professional-grade kitchen at the far end of the room. It was a chef’s dream: stainless steel French tops, sub-zero refrigeration, and a collection of copper pots that cost more than her entire culinary school tuition. "The kitchen is yours. But you cook for two."
