Chapter 6 - The Midnight Confrontation
"Name it," I said without a single second of hesitation.
Luca looked surprised, a flicker of profound respect crossing his features. "You haven't even heard what it is yet."
"You protected my mother. You gave my family peace of mind. And more importantly, you protected Lily," I replied, standing my ground. "Whatever you need, I'm ready."
Luca let out a deep, appreciative breath. "The municipal permits aren't actually frozen legally—they're being held in a private escrow vault at the City Hall records office, controlled by a corrupt clerk named Marcus Vance. Vance is a notorious gambler. He takes bribes from the Bellinis every Tuesday night at an underground poker club downtown called The Iron Spade."
"And you want me to go there?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I can't go," Luca explained, crossing his arms. "If I walk into The Iron Spade, every capo and reporter in Chicago will know the Morettis are retaliating, and it triggers open syndicate war. But you? You're new to the administration staff. No one knows your face in the underworld yet. You can walk in as a quiet observer, get close to Vance, and recover the override codes to release our shipping licenses."
"And if I get caught?"
"My security team will be monitoring every second through a hidden comms link in your earring," Luca said grimly. "If anything goes wrong, an extraction team will pull you out before you hit the floor. But I won't lie to you, Claire—it’s dangerous."
Two hours later, transformed in a stunning, low-cut black cocktail dress with my hair styled in glamorous Hollywood waves, I stepped out of a black town car and walked down the damp concrete steps into the basement entrance of The Iron Spade.
The underground club was a den of smoke, dim neon lights, and the clinking of poker chips. Wealthy corrupt officials, low-level mob associates, and syndicate fixers crowded around high-stakes tables.
Through the tiny wireless earpiece hidden in my left ear, Luca’s voice crackled softly: “I copy audio. You're looking good, Claire. Table four in the back corner. Marcus Vance is wearing a grey tweed suit and sweating through his collar.”
I smoothed down my dress, adopted a cool, confident smirk, and walked through the haze of cigar smoke toward table four.
Marcus Vance was indeed sweating, clutching a stack of red poker chips while nursing a scotch.
I slipped into the empty leather chair directly across from him, batting my eyelashes with practiced theatrical charm. "Is this seat taken, or is someone feeling lucky tonight?"
Marcus looked up, his eyes greedily scanning my appearance. "For a pretty face like yours? Never taken."
Ten minutes later, amid flirtatious banter and a calculated series of small poker bluffs, I had steered the conversation right where Luca needed it.
"Oh, please, a big shot like you doesn't worry about money," I purred, leaning across the velvet table. "You probably control half the city hall paperwork in your sleep. I bet you could authorize a multi-million-dollar import license with just a swipe of your digital tablet."
Vance puffed out his chest, thoroughly intoxicated by my manufactured flattery. "Honey, I control things people in this city don't even dream about. See this tablet right here?" He tapped a sleek black iPad resting beside his chips. "With this biometric thumbprint and my master pin, I can release every frozen commercial permit in Chicago with one click."
“Got him,” Luca’s voice whispered in my ear. “Extracting now. Stand by, Claire.”
Suddenly, the heavy steel doors at the entrance of the club burst open. Three masked enforcers wearing Bellini syndicate insignias stormed into the room, shouting, "Nobody move! Federal audit! Everyone against the wall!"
Panic erupted across the poker tables.
Before Vance could grab his tablet, a hand reached out from behind him, snatching the iPad off the table. It was one of Luca’s extraction agents, disguised as a club waiter.
"Hey! That's my property!" Vance yelled, standing up.
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I didn't wait. I kicked off my stiletto heels, grabbed my clutch, and bolted toward the service exit as the club descended into absolute chaos.
Gunshots echoed in the basement as Luca’s extraction team covered our retreat, bundling me into the back of a waiting armored SUV just as the tires screeched against the asphalt, racing back toward the safety of the Hudson River estate.
