Chapter 3 - The Contract in the Dark
The interior of the SUV smelled of hand-stitched leather, gun oil, and Gabriel’s crisp, expensive cologne. He sat in the rear captain’s chair, his long legs crossed, a crystal tumbler of whiskey held loosely in his right hand. The vehicle was silent, insulated from the city noise outside.
Dakota sat opposite him, her rain jacket pulled tight around her body, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks. She looked small against the massive leather seat, but her posture was immovable.
"You're not afraid of me," Gabriel observed, staring at her over the rim of his glass.
"I’m afraid of my mother’s medical bills," Dakota said directly. "You're just a man with expensive clothes and anger issues. I’ve met a thousand of you."
Gabriel’s lips twitched—not a smile, but a subtle tension in his jaw. "No one talks to me like that, Miss Gallagher. The last man who called me stupid is currently buried under four feet of concrete in Cicero."
"Then he probably didn't know how to run a double-entry ledger," Dakota retorted. "Why am I here, Mr. Moretti?"
Gabriel reached into his coat and produced a folded document. He slid it onto the small mahogany table between them.
"This is a contract," Gabriel said. "Four hundred thousand dollars a year. Full medical benefits under a private concierge trust that covers any medical procedure, any specialist, anywhere in the country, no questions asked. Your mother will have a dedicated nurse in her home by eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
Dakota looked at the paper, then back up at his cold face. "And what do I have to do?"
"Fix my books. Find the rat on my docks. And work directly out of my private estate in Lake Forest, where I can see you every day."
"I don't leave my mother alone," Dakota said coldly.
"She will be brought to the estate's guest house," Gabriel replied. "It has its own medical suite. She will receive better care there than at any hospital in the state."
Dakota narrowed her eyes. "Why me? You could hire fifty accountants from Deloitte who don't call you an idiot."
Gabriel leaned forward, his massive frame looming over her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that felt like a physical weight.
"Because they would lie to me to stay alive," Gabriel said softly. "You don't care if you live or die as long as your mother is safe. That makes you honest. And right now, honesty is the only thing I can't buy in this city."
Dakota stared at him, weighing the offer. She hated him. She hated everything he stood for. But four hundred thousand dollars and private medical care meant her mother would live.
"Three conditions," Dakota said.
"Name them."
"One: My mother's care is guaranteed regardless of your operational results. Two: I choose my own hours. Three: You never, ever make another comment about my weight or my eating habits."
Gabriel watched her for three long seconds. Slowly, he reached out his hand.
May you like
"Agreed," Gabriel said.
Dakota took his hand. His skin was warm, hard, and calloused from weapons training. The grip was firm, an unspoken contract between two predators who operated in entirely different worlds.
