Chapter 2 - The Interrogation
The amber light from the desk lamp cast long, ominous shadows across the private suite. Harper stared down at the glass of whiskey held tightly between her trembling hands. The alcohol burned her stomach, but it did little to chase away the icy chill settling deep into her bones. Across from her, Dominic Vulpes sat with an aura of absolute control, his dark eyes fixed on her face as if reading every stray thought.
“I’m waiting,” Dominic said quietly, his voice dangerously smooth.
Harper swallowed hard, trying to gather her scattered wits. “I... I caught my fiancé,” she stammered, her voice cracking under the weight of her lingering embarrassment. “He was with my best friend. Near the bar downstairs. I just wanted to get away. I didn’t know this was a private room. I swear I didn’t know who you were.”
The scarred guard, whose name was Vance, chuckled darkly from the corner. “A likely story, boss. A crying girl trick is standard reconnaissance. The Rossy family has been trying to figure out where we hold our sit-downs for months.”
Harper looked up frantically, shaking her head. “No! I don’t know any Rossy family! I’m an accountant! I work at a firm three blocks from here! My name is Harper Reed!”
Dominic didn't shift his gaze. He raised his hand slightly, silencing Vance without a word. “An accountant,” Dominic repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He gestured toward Vance. “Get her purse. Find her ID.”
Vance stepped forward, snatched Harper’s handbag from where she had dropped it by the door, and dumped its contents onto the mahogany table. Compact powder, lipstick, house keys, and a leather wallet tumbled out beside the briefcase full of cash. Vance flipped through her wallet, pulled out her driver's license, and handed it to Dominic.
Dominic examined the card carefully, running his thumb over the laminated surface before looking back up at Harper. “Harper Reed. Twenty-six years old. Residence on Oak Street.” He set the ID on the arm of his chair. “An accountant crying over a cheating fiancé. It sounds almost poetic, doesn't it?”
“It’s the truth!” Harper pleaded, pressing her hands against her thighs to hide their shaking. “Please, just let me go. I won't say a word to anyone. I didn't see anything!”
“You saw the cash, sweetheart,” Vance pointed out coldly. “You saw the blood on the napkin. You saw the Capo’s face.”
Harper felt a tear slip down her cheek, cutting a clean path through the smudged makeup on her face. “I don't care about your money or your blood! I just want to go home!”
Dominic stood up slowly, the movement fluid and grace-filled like that of a panther. He walked over to the mahogany table, picked up the blood-stained napkin, and tossed it into a metal trash bin beneath the desk. Then he snapped the briefcase shut, the brass locks clicking sharply in the quiet room.
“Whether you intended to or not, Miss Reed, you walked into a highly sensitive transaction,” Dominic said, turning back to face her. “In my world, unexpected variables are eliminated or contained. I do not know you. I do not know if you are as innocent as you appear or if you were placed here by my enemies.”
“I’m innocent!” Harper cried out, her voice echoing off the paneled walls.
“That remains to be seen,” Dominic replied. He looked over at Vance. “Call Marco. Tell him to run a complete background check on Harper Reed. I want to know her bank accounts, her employment history, her family, and every detail about this fiancé of hers within the hour.”
“Right away, boss,” Vance said, pulling out a encrypted satellite phone and stepping toward the corner of the room.
Harper pushed herself up from the chair, indignation momentarily overcoming her terror. “You can’t do that! You can’t just hold me here against my will! This is kidnapping!”
Dominic walked over until he was standing directly in front of her. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming, crowding her space and forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. “This is survival, Miss Reed. Yours and mine. If you walk out that door right now and my enemies see you leaving my private floor, they will assume you carry information. They won't ask you politely like I am doing. They will pick you up off the street and peel you like an apple until you tell them everything you saw.”
Harper gasped, horror draining the remaining color from her face.
“So you see,” Dominic continued softly, reaching out to gently tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, his fingers surprisingly light against her skin, “sitting in this chair is the safest place in Chicago for you tonight.”
His touch sent an unexpected jolt through her frame, a strange mixture of fear and an electric heat she couldn't rationalize. She pulled back slightly, her breath catching in her throat.
May you like
“Sit back down, Harper,” Dominic commanded softly, using her first name for the first time. “We are going to wait here until I get my answers.”
Defeated and trembling, Harper sank back into the soft leather of the armchair. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, counting down the minutes of her strange, terrifying new reality as the man holding her captive returned to his glass of whiskey, watching her every move like a shadow in the night.
