Chapter 14 - The Whispers of Chicago
Morning light poured through the tall windows of the master suite, painting the room in soft hues of gold.
I woke with my head resting against Victor’s bare, scarred chest, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart thumping beneath my cheek. His uninjured arm was wrapped securely around my waist, anchoring me to him as if he were afraid I would vanish if he loosened his grip.
I lay there for a long time, watching the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The harsh lines around his eyes were smoothed by sleep. He didn't look like the ruthless mob boss of Chicago. He just looked like a man who had finally found peace.
Slowly, Victor’s eyelashes fluttered open. His gray eyes focused on mine, and for a second, I waited for the regret—the cold dismissal of a powerful man who had crossed a line with an employee.
Instead, a slow, breathtaking smile curved his lips.
“Good morning,” he rasped, his morning voice deep and rough.
“Good morning,” I whispered, my face heating up under his intense gaze.
Victor leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips, lingering, before pressing his forehead against mine. “You’re still here.”
“I told you. I don't run easily.”
“Good,” he said, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my spine. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
A soft knock on the bedroom door broke the spell.
Victor sighed, the relaxed posture shifting slightly, though his arm remained around me. “Enter, Marcus.”
The door opened an inch, and Marcus’s voice came through, strictly professional, eyes avert. “Boss. Apologies, but we have a situation. Moretti’s syndicate has called an emergency council of the Five Families at the Drake Hotel tonight. They’re claiming you violated the treaty by assassinating his captains.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed into steel. “Did they?”
“Yes. And they’re demanding you appear before the council to answer for it. If you refuse, it’s all-out war across the entire city.”
Victor sat up slowly, wincing slightly as his healing stitches pulled, but his face was completely impassive. “Tell them I’ll be there.”
“Boss—”
“Tell them,” Victor commanded. “And Marcus? Have the bespoke tailor send their best evening gowns to the estate by noon.”
Marcus paused. “Gowns, sir?”
Victor looked down at me, his gaze blazing with open, uncompromising possession.
“Yes,” Victor said clearly. “Ms. Vance is accompanying me as my guest.”
Marcus’s eyebrows shot up, but he inclined his head respectfully. “Understood, sir.”
The door shut.
I sat up, pulling the sheets to my chest, staring at Victor in disbelief. “Victor! Are you insane? I can’t go to a mob council at the Drake Hotel! I’m a nanny!”
Victor reached out, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up to his.
May you like
“You’re not just the nanny anymore, Harper,” he said fiercely. “The whole city knows Moretti attacked my house. If I show up alone, they think I’m wounded, hiding my family in fear. But if I walk into that ballroom with you on my arm, standing tall, untouchable… they will know that Chicago belongs to me. And that you belong with me.”
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