Chapter 2 - The Gold Coast Fortress
Alexander didn't let go of Emily's hand.
He pulled her gently from beneath the desk, his arm supporting her waist as her bare feet touched the carpet.
Her curves pressed against his chest for a fraction of a second, her scent—sweet vanilla and lavender soap—cutting through the cold smell of leather and city rain.
"Rayburn is on Sterling's payroll," Emily whispered, panic seizing her chest again. "Derek golfs with the Deputy Police Chief. If Rayburn takes me into custody, Derek will sign involuntary psychiatric hold papers before midnight."
Alexander looked down at her blue dress, torn at the hem, and her wide hazel eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"Rayburn doesn't have jurisdiction over my front bumper," Alexander replied.
He tapped his watch comm.
"Luka, bring the armored Maybach to the subterranean bay. Clear the west service tunnel. We're going to the Lake Shore penthouse."
Twenty minutes later, Emily was sitting in the plush leather backseat of an armored Mercedes gliding silently through the rainy streets of Chicago.
Alexander sat beside her, reviewing financial files on an encrypted tablet.
He had wrapped his heavy cashmere coat over her bare shoulders, the wool warm and heavy, carrying his cedarwood cologne.
"Why are you helping me, Mr. Moretti?" Emily asked quietly, clutching the coat around herself. "You don't know me. Derek’s family is connected to half the commercial banks in the Midwest."
Alexander set the tablet face down on the console and turned to look at her.
"My mother stayed twenty years in a house where every locked door was an excuse for a broken rib," he said, his voice flat and steady. "I promised myself when I took over this city that no man would bleed a woman under my watch and walk away laughing."
He reached out, his thumb gently grazing the swollen mark on her wrist without causing pain.
"Besides," Alexander added, his lips curving into a dangerous, razor-thin smile, "Derek Sterling has been skimming offshore management fees from my shipping docks for nine months. Protecting you isn't just decency, Emily. It's poetic justice."
The car pulled into the private underground garage of the Gold Coast tower.
Private security teams in dark suits snapped to attention, saluting as Alexander led Emily through the private biometric elevator directly into his sprawling, two-story penthouse.
The floor-to-ceiling glass overlooked the black expanse of Lake Michigan.
"The guest suite on the second floor has a private bath, clothes in your size, and an independent electronic lock," Alexander told her, handing her a keycard. "No one enters this penthouse without my direct thumbprint."
Emily looked at the keycard, then up at him, her throat tight with emotion.
"Thank you, Alexander."
She turned toward the stairs, but just as her foot hit the first marble step, the master alarm console beside the elevator chimed red.
May you like
A live surveillance feed flickered onto the hallway screen:
Three unmarked black sedans had just blocked the entrance to the underground parking ramp, and Derek Sterling was stepping out of the passenger seat, holding an official court injunction stamped with red chancery wax.
Related Stories
