Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Guest
The kiss was slow, deep, and intoxicating.
It carried the heat of seven months of unspoken glances, of late-night coffee cups passed in quiet hallways, of two broken people recognizing the jagged edges in each other’s souls. Julian’s arms tightened around her waist, lifting her effortlessly until she was sitting on the edge of the granite counter, her small hands sliding up into his thick, dark hair.
Julian groaned softly against her mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing her lower lip as if memorizing the taste of her. Maya clung to him, opening up completely, letting the safety and warmth of his presence wash away every last remnant of the cold street outside.
DING.
The chime of the private elevator echoed through the foyer.
Julian froze instantly. His body went rigid against hers. He broke the kiss, his dark eyes snapping toward the hallway, his hand automatically reaching down toward the holster beneath his suit jacket.
Nobody had access to the private elevator without his personal clearance code. Not even Derek.
Maya sat breathless on the counter, her lips swollen, her face flushed red as Julian stepped in front of her, placing his body squarely between her and the hallway entrance.
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the marble floor of the foyer. The high-pitched click of expensive designer heels accompanied the quiet rustle of a silk coat.
A woman stepped around the corner into the warm light of the kitchen.
She was thirty-one years old, breathtakingly stunning, with ice-blonde hair pulled back into an immaculate low bun, sharp cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes that radiated cold, aristocratic confidence. She wore a tailored ivory trench coat, white leather gloves, and a diamond tennis necklace that glittered beneath the recessed ceiling lights.
Victoria Vance.
Derek Vance’s estranged older sister—and the daughter of Arthur Vance, the head of the powerful Vance Syndicate that controlled the eastern shipping docks of Chicago.
Victoria stopped at the edge of the kitchen island. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene with a slow, toxic sneer: Julian Croft standing in his unbuttoned vest, his hair ruffled, protecting a red-faced maid sitting on a granite counter wearing his oversized cashmere sweater.
"Well, well, well," Victoria purred, her voice smooth, reedy, and dripping with malicious amusement. "I heard rumors through the grapevine that the great Julian Croft had taken a sudden interest in domestic charity work. I didn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes."
Julian didn't lower his hand from his side holster. His expression transformed into a mask of pure, absolute ice—the mafia boss who feared nothing.
"You have five seconds to explain how you got my elevator code, Victoria," Julian said, his voice dropping into a register that was deadlier than a loaded gun. "Before I throw you off my balcony."
Victoria laughed softly, taking off her white leather gloves finger by finger, ignoring his threat entirely.
"Your chief of security is my brother, darling," Victoria smiled, stepping closer, her eyes fixing onto Maya with cold, aristocratic disdain. "Derek always was terrible at changing his security passcodes when he visits family."
Victoria turned her gaze back to Julian, her smile fading into a sharp, business-like edge.
"My father sent me, Julian," Victoria stated flatly. "The O’Malley crew is spiraling because some idiot broke Marcus Kane’s face on Western Avenue this afternoon and stole their debt ledgers. They are threatening a full street war on the South Side."
May you like
Victoria took one more step forward, leaning her hands on the far side of the granite island, pointing a diamond-encrusted finger directly at Maya.
"And my father wants to know," Victoria hissed softly, "why you are risking a fifty-million-dollar dock alliance... over a little illegal street rat who washes your dishes."
