Chapter 7 - The Lion’s Den
The silence in the kitchen was so heavy that the quiet hum of the refrigerator sounded like a jet engine roaring.
Maya sat on the counter, her hands gripping the edge of the granite, her blood running cold as she looked at Victoria Vance. She recognized the name Vance. Derek had mentioned his family once in passing—an old, powerful criminal dynasty that had controlled the Chicago waterfront for forty years.
Julian didn't look at Victoria. He slowly turned his head, looking directly at Maya.
"Go to my bedroom, Maya," Julian said softly, his tone gentle, completely different from the steel in his eyes. "Lock the door."
"Julian—"
"Now, Maya," he requested gently.
Maya slid down from the granite counter. She felt tiny beneath Victoria’s icy, aristocratic glare, but she kept her head held high as she walked past the blonde woman, stepping down the long carpeted hallway toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She closed the heavy mahogany door behind her, turning the brass lock with a sharp click.
Back in the kitchen, Julian turned to Victoria.
He didn't draw his gun. He simply walked up to her until he was standing three inches from her face, his towering height completely shadowing her slender frame.
"If you ever speak about her in that tone again, Victoria," Julian murmured, his voice so quiet it sounded like wind blowing over fresh graves, "I will cut your father's shipping contracts in half before sunrise. And then I will personally hand your brother the authority to execute you for treason against the family."
Victoria’s confident posture flickered for a fraction of a second. She knew Julian wasn't bluffing. Julian Croft didn't make threats; he stated future events with mathematical certainty.
"You're soft, Julian," Victoria sneered, trying to recover her composure, though her breathing had quickened. "You're losing your edge. A boss who falls for his maid is a boss who gets a bullet in the back of his head by spring. The O'Malleys know she’s your weak spot now. They know about the brother in Pilsen. They know about her mother's grave."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into dark, lethal slits.
"The O'Malleys know nothing," Julian said coldly.
"They know everything," Victoria countered, pulling a small black flash drive from her coat pocket and slapping it down on the island counter. "Marcus Kane didn't run to Indiana, Julian. He ran straight to Arthur Vance’s office at Navy Pier. He gave us copies of every document you took from his office."
Victoria leaned in close, her blue eyes sparkling with toxic triumph.
"My father is holding a summit at the Drake Hotel tomorrow night at midnight," Victoria whispered. "The O'Malleys will be there. The syndicate bosses from Detroit and Milwaukee will be there. My father wants you there, Julian. With the girl."
Julian stared at the black flash drive on the granite. "Why?"
"Because if you want to prove that you haven't gone soft—if you want to maintain your crown as the head of the Chicago Commission—you are going to stand in front of twenty armed syndicate bosses and declare her under your official protection," Victoria smiled wickedly. "Or... you are going to hand her over to the O'Malleys to settle her debt."
Victoria turned on her high heels, stepping back toward the hallway foyer.
"Midnight tomorrow, Julian," Victoria called out over her shoulder, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Bring your suit. And bring your maid. Let's see if the Mafia Boss Who Feared Nothing has the guts to fight the entire city for a girl with flour on her hands."
May you like
The elevator chimed, and Victoria Vance was gone.
Julian stood alone in the quiet kitchen. He reached out, picked up the black flash drive, and squeezed it in his fist until the plastic casing cracked and shattered into tiny black fragments across the floor.
