Chapter 5 - The Brooklyn Ultimatum
The rain had stopped by midnight, leaving the Westchester estate wrapped in a heavy, cold fog that swallowed the perimeter lights.
Down in the subterranean garage, Dominic stood beside a bulletproof black Mercedes Maybach, watching Marco Santori’s latest digital communique play out on a encrypted tablet screen.
The video was short. Marco Santori sat in a plush leather chair in a dimly lit Brooklyn lounge, swirling a glass of amber whiskey, smiling lazily into the camera lens.
“Evening, Dominic,” Santori’s smooth, oily voice echoed from the tiny speakers. “Sad news about poor Arthur. Stress will get to a man in our line of work. Heart failure, I hear. Terrible tragedy. But let’s cut to the chase. You’re holding onto property deeds that belong by right of trade to my partners. Hand over the northern corridor documents, along with the Bennett woman and her kid as a... security deposit... and we’ll pretend this whole misunderstanding never happened. You have until noon tomorrow.”
The screen went black.
Dominic didn't smash the tablet. He didn't yell. He simply handed the device back to Luca with a movement so controlled it was terrifying.
"He wants the land. And he wants Claire," Dominic said softly, his hands resting casually in his trouser pockets. "He thinks he’s playing chess."
"He’s playing with a loaded gun and pointing it at his own head," Luca corrected, racking the slide of his 9mm pistol to check the chamber. "Give the word, Boss. I’ll take two teams into Brooklyn before sunrise and turn Santori’s lounge into a parking lot."
"No," Dominic said, turning away from the car. "Violence is too easy, Luca. Santori wants a war because he thinks he can win in the chaos. We aren't going to give him chaos. We’re going to give him a business meeting he can't refuse."
"A meeting? With a guy who just murdered our lawyer in a transport van?"
"Especially with a guy who murdered our lawyer," Dominic corrected, a dangerous, predatory smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Get word to Salvatore Valenti and the old guard in Little Italy. Tell them Marco Santori is violating the Commission’s charter by targeting civilian families. Let’s see how fast Santori's allies drop him when they realize he’s trying to drag the entire syndicate into a war with the feds over a four-year-old child's drawing book."
Upstairs on the third floor, Claire couldn't sleep.
She stood by the large bay window, watching the tail lights of Dominic’s car disappear down the winding driveway into the fog. She didn't know the full details of what had happened in the garage, but she knew the word danger was written across the entire estate like a flashing neon sign.
A soft click sounded behind her.
She turned to see Evie standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, still clutching Pickles the dinosaur.
"Mommy? Why are we in a big room?" Evie mumbled sleepily.
Claire rushed over, scooping her daughter up into her arms and burying her face in the child’s warm neck. "We’re just visiting, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay."
"Is Mr. Dominic going to protect us?" Evie asked innocently.
May you like
Claire paused, remembering the intense, dark eyes of the man who had read bedtime stories to her daughter just hours earlier. She thought about the way he had stood between them and the danger lurking outside.
"Yes, baby," Claire whispered, kissing the top of Evie’s head as a tear slipped silently down her cheek. "I think he is."
