Chapter 10 - THE DRAKE HOTEL|
The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was bathed in golden light.
Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting shimmering light over two hundred elite guests—politicians, judges, syndicate bosses, and wealthy CEOs. They had all gathered to celebrate the union of the Moretti and Sloane empires.
Camille looked breathtaking in a floor-length emerald silk gown, sparkling diamond necklace, and her blonde hair pinned up in an intricate crown. She walked through the room on my arm, smiling brightly for the photographers, accepting congratulations from guests.
Standing near the bar was her father, Patrick Sloane.
Patrick was sixty-five, with silver hair, a scarred jaw, and eyes like a hawk. He was a veteran of Chicago's underworld—ruthless, old-school, and dangerous.
"Roman," Patrick greeted, raising his glass of bourbon as we approached. "You look like a man who just secured a monopoly."
"I feel like a man who is about to settle all his debts, Patrick," I replied smoothly.
Arthur Velez joined us, carrying his leather briefcase, flanked by two uniformed state notaries.
"Don Patrick, Roman," Arthur said, checking his gold watch. "It’s 7:45 p.m. The press is ready for the announcement. Shall we sign the estate documents before the formal toast?"
Camille adjusted her diamond bracelet, her eyes gleaming with suppressed triumph. She looked at Arthur, exchanging a subtle, victorious glance that lasted less than a second.
"Yes," Camille chimed in sweetly. "Let's sign the papers, darling. For our future."
I looked around the room. In the corners of the ballroom, several men in dark suits with earpieces were moving into position.
May you like
My trap was fully set.
"Of course," I said loudly, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests. "Let's make this an announcement no one in Chicago will ever forget."
