Chapter 3 - The VIP Sanctuary
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The elevator doors chimed open to the top floor of the Obsidian Club. Dominic’s private office was a sprawling penthouse of dark leather, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston skyline, and a massive mahogany desk. It smelled of expensive bourbon and old money.
Dominic walked straight to a crystal decanter, poured two fingers of amber liquid, and turned to face her.
“Drink this,” he ordered, holding the glass out.
Chloe shook her head, her arms wrapped tightly around her own torso. Her waitress uniform suddenly felt terribly thin and vulnerable in this palace of wealth and violence.
“I don't want a drink. I want to know what is going on,” she demanded, her voice shaking but finding a sliver of defiance. “You said Tommy stole drives. You said Volkov wants to torture me. Why are you helping me? The Dominic Russo on the news doesn't run charities for clumsy waitresses.”
Dominic took a slow sip of the bourbon, studying her over the rim of the glass. “The news gets a lot of things wrong, Miss Adams. But they are right about one thing. I do not operate charities.”
“Then what is my price?” Chloe asked, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs.
Dominic set the glass down on his desk. He walked toward her, his movements slow, deliberate, and entirely predatory. He stopped just inches away, his towering height forcing her to tilt her head up to look at him.
“Your brother has something I want,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a rough, dangerous whisper. “The Volkov ledger doesn't just contain Victor’s financial secrets. It contains a list of corrupt judges, politicians, and police commissioners who have been taking Russian bribes for a decade. With that list, I could control the entire city.”
“You want the drives for yourself,” Chloe breathed, realization dawning on her. “You aren't protecting me because you care. You're holding me hostage so Tommy will bring the drives to you instead of Volkov.”
“I prefer the term 'strategic leverage,'” Dominic replied, a dark smirk playing on his lips. “But yes. You are the bait. Tommy will contact you eventually. And when he does, you will tell him to bring the drives to me.”
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“And if I refuse?” she challenged, stepping back.
“If you refuse, I open those elevator doors and let the Russians waiting on the street have you,” Dominic said coldly. “I am offering you a choice, Chloe. Stand beside me and live, or walk out that door and let Victor Volkov show you what a real monster looks like.”
