Chapter 2 - The Shadow of Lakeview
The silence in the room was so heavy it felt as though the glass windows might shatter from the pressure.
Bradley Pierce stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled onto dry land. "Mr. Vance... sir... she's just the night janitor. She made a mess, and—"
Dante didn't turn around. He didn't even lift his head. He simply raised his left hand, holding up two fingers.
One of the giant men standing near the door, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running through his left eyebrow, stepped forward. He seized Bradley by the back of his custom suit collar and squeezed. Bradley let out a high-pitched squeak as he was dragged backward five feet, his feet sliding uselessly across the damp marble.
"Silence," the bodyguard said quietly.
Dante stood up slowly, offering his hand to Beatrice.
Beatrice stared at his large, open palm. Her mind was racing, throwing up a hundred different reasons to pull away. She was dirty. She was wet. She was an outcast. But looking into Dante’s gray eyes, she saw no disgust. She saw no pity.
She saw recognition.
Grasping his hand, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her knees wobbled, a sharp spike of pain shooting up her thigh, but Dante shifted his weight instantly, wrapping a steady arm around her waist to anchor her.
"I have you," he murmured softly near her ear.
Beatrice leaned against him for a brief second, astonished by the sheer warmth and solidity of his frame. He smelled of cedarwood, rain, and cold steel.
"Arthur," Dante said, looking toward his second bodyguard—a lean, middle-aged man with sharp glasses and an immaculate black coat.
"Yes, Mr. Vance?"
"Call the chief of building operations," Dante instructed, his tone conversational, as if he were ordering a sandwich. "Cancel the cleaning contract with this vendor. Effective immediately."
"Right away, sir."
"Wait!" Chloe interjected, her voice cracking with desperation. "Mr. Vance, please! We have an important presentation with your acquisition team on Monday. We can't have this floor unserviced—"
Dante finally turned his gaze toward her.
Chloe stopped talking instantly, taking an involuntary step back until her heels hit the glass wall of the conference room.
"Miss Hastings," Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You hold a senior position in Human Resources at Caldwell & Hughes, do you not?"
"Y-yes, sir," she whimpered.
"Then you should understand the concept of liability," Dante said. He walked slowly toward her, his posture relaxed, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. "You recorded an act of physical harassment and employment discrimination on your personal device. You laughed while a worker was assaulted on company property."
"I... I wasn't—"
"Arthur," Dante interrupted. "Seize her phone."
The scarred bodyguard stepped forward and reached out his hand. Chloe frantically tried to hide the device behind her back, but Arthur simply reached around her waist, snatched the phone from her grip with two fingers, and handed it to Dante.
Dante didn't even look at the screen. He placed the phone on the edge of the granite conference table, raised his boot, and brought it down with a single, devastating blow.
The phone shattered into a hundred pieces of glass and plastic. Chloe let out a muffled sob.
"You are fired, Miss Hastings," Dante said smoothly. "And if I discover that you have attempted to seek employment anywhere within the state of Illinois, I will buy the company that hires you and fire you again."
He turned his attention back to Bradley, who was currently trembling in Arthur’s iron grip.
"And you," Dante said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Bradley Pierce. Son of Senator Pierce."
Bradley tried to puff out his chest, desperate for any leverage. "My father—"
"Is currently under federal investigation for tax fraud," Dante finished smoothly, "because I delivered three boxes of his offshore banking records to the IRS building on Dearborn Street yesterday morning."
Bradley’s face turned gray. The color literally drained from his lips.
"You have thirty minutes to clear your desk, Pierce," Dante said, stepping closer until he was standing over the young executive. "If you are still in this building at 12:30, my men will throw you out of that window. And trust me... the marble down on Michigan Avenue is much harder than the marble up here."
Bradley nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Thirty minutes."
Dante turned his back on them all. He walked back to Beatrice, who was standing beside her mop cart, completely stunned, feeling as if she had stepped into a hallucination.
"Come, Beatrice," Dante said, holding out his arm to her as if she were a duchess at a royal gala. "Your shift is over."
May you like
"My... my timecard," Beatrice stammered, pointing a shaking hand toward the hallway. "If I don't punch out, they deduct twenty dollars—"
"You no longer work for them," Dante said gently. He reached out and wrapped his fine cashmere overcoat around her heavy shoulders, covering the wet, stained navy uniform. "You work for me now."
