Chapter 2 - The Velvet Cage
Ten minutes later, I wasn't clearing tables. I was sitting in the back of a black armored SUV, sandwiched between bulletproof glass and Dominic Russo.
The rain beat against the roof like a frantic drum. Streetlights flickered past the tinted windows, painting Dominic's sharp profile in alternating streaks of amber and shadow. He hadn't spoken a word since we left the Onyx Room. He sat with his ankles crossed, reading messages on an encrypted tablet while his personal security detail guided the vehicle through the dark streets of Lower Manhattan.
My hands were clamped tightly in my lap. "Where are you taking me?"
Dominic didn't look up from his screen. "To a place where you won't end up in a concrete block at the bottom of the East River."
"I have an apartment. I have work tomorrow—"
"You don't have an apartment anymore," Dominic interrupted flatly, sliding the tablet into his coat pocket. He finally turned his gaze toward me. "The moment Thomas confessed, my men checked your records. You're Arthur Bennett's daughter."
My throat went bone-dry. "You know my father?"
"I know he owes half a million dollars across three boroughs," Dominic replied coldly. "One hundred and fifty thousand of that belongs to Sal Castellano. Sal was waiting for Arthur to surface. When Arthur ran, Sal decided to collect from you. Tonight, you ruined Sal's attempt to take my territory. Do you really think he's going to let you sleep in your own bed?"
"I can hide," I lied, my voice cracking.
"You're twenty years old, you make fourteen dollars an hour, and you have no weapon," Dominic said, stepping closer across the leather seat. "You wouldn't survive past midnight."
The SUV slowed to a stop before a massive set of wrought-iron gates in Upper Westchester. The gates swung open automatically, revealing a sweeping estate surrounded by ten-foot stone walls, security cameras, and armed guards patrolling with Belgian Malinois on short leashes.
This wasn't a residence. It was a fortress.
The driver opened my door. The night air was biting cold, carrying the scent of damp pine and wet granite.
Dominic offered his hand. I looked at his long, immaculate fingers, remembering the way he had casually ordered a man to his death ten minutes earlier.
"If I step out of this car," I whispered, "am I your prisoner?"
"You're alive, Lydia," Dominic said, his voice dropping into that deep, irresistible hum. "For tonight, that's the only luxury you get to care about."
I took his hand. His grip was warm, solid, and entirely unyielding.
He led me through a massive oak front door into a foyer that looked like an Italian cathedral. High vaulted ceilings, white marble floors, and classical paintings adorned the walls. Yet despite the opulence, the house felt sterile. There were no flowers, no family photographs, no signs of life beyond the subtle hum of high-tech security monitors hidden behind silver frames.
A housekeeper in a dark uniform approached us, holding a silver tray with a glass of water and a warm towel.
"This is Mrs. Gable," Dominic said, taking his coat off and handing it to a waiting guard. "She will show you to the guest suite on the third floor. You will stay there."
"And if I want to leave?" I asked, looking him dead in the eye.
Dominic paused, his icy blue gaze piercing right through me. "Then you walk past the guards at the gate, Lydia. And you see how far you get before Castellano's men find you. But as long as you are in this house, you are protected. In exchange, you tell me everything about your father's debts."
"I don't know where he is," I said, my voice rising. "I swear to God, I haven't seen him in six months!"
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"We'll talk about Arthur tomorrow," Dominic said calmly, turning toward his study. "Mrs. Gable, make sure she eats."
I watched his tall frame disappear behind double mahogany doors. The heavy click of the lock resonated through the foyer. I was safe from the Castellanos, but as I followed Mrs. Gable up the grand staircase, I realized the truth: I hadn't been rescued. I had simply been claimed by a far more dangerous predator.
