Chapter 2 - The Cleared Room
“Everyone,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a smooth, resonant baritone that carried effortlessly across the cavernous lounge. “Leave.”
Marcus froze, his hand still clamped over his weapon. He stared at his boss as if Dominic had suddenly lost his mind.
“Boss,” Marcus protested, stepping closer, his face twisting in disbelief. “She struck you. In front of the entire room. We can’t just—she walked right past the perimeter security, and now she’s assaulted you—”
Dominic turned his head slowly, fixing Marcus with a gaze so intensely cold that the underboss snapped his mouth shut instantly.
“I noticed, Marcus,” Dominic said softly, every syllable dripping with a quiet, lethal authority that brooked zero argument. “I said, everyone leave.”
Within seconds, the high-ranking officials and terrified socialites scrambled for the private elevators like rats fleeing a sinking ship, tripping over their own expensive shoes in their haste to escape the room. Marcus lingered for a fraction of a second longer, his eyes narrowing with pure venomous hatred toward Harper, before he gave a stiff nod and waved the remaining armed guards out the door.
The heavy, soundproof oak and steel doors of the lounge clicked shut, sealing them inside.
The vast room suddenly felt suffocatingly quiet. The distant hum of city traffic thirty floors below was muffled by triple-paned acoustic glass.
Dominic turned his full attention back to Leo, who was still trembling on the marble floor.
“Get him up,” Dominic commanded without raising his voice.
Two guards who had remained outside stepped in quickly, lifting Leo by his arms and hauling him to his feet. Leo whimpered, his legs shaking violently, blood still dripping from his chin.
“Take him down to Dr. Vance in the medical wing,” Dominic instructed smoothly. “Patch him up, give him clean clothes, and put him in the VIP guest suite on the twelfth floor. Make sure he has water and food.”
Leo’s eyes darted wildly toward his sister. “Harper—!”
“Go, Leo,” Harper managed to choke out, her voice cracking as she fought back the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. “Just go.”
The guards dragged Leo out of the room, the heavy doors locking automatically behind them with a heavy, final thud.
Harper stood her ground. Her hands were still trembling, her knuckles white, but she forced her chin up, refusing to shrink away from the man standing less than six feet away from her.
Dominic walked slowly toward the private bar built into the mahogany wall of the lounge. He didn't look back at her as he picked up a crystal decanter, poured a clean glass of ice-cold water, and walked back across the room.
He stopped a few feet away from her, extending the glass toward her hand.
“Drink,” he commanded, his voice neutral.
Harper stared at the glass, her jaw tightening. She knocked it away with the back of her hand, sending the crystal tumbling across the floor, shattering into a thousand sparkling pieces as water splashed against the polished marble.
“I don't want anything from you,” Harper hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of terror and white-hot fury. “You can kill me. You can throw me off this balcony. But don't pretend to play the gracious host after what you did to my brother.”
Dominic didn't flinch at the shattered glass. He simply lowered his hand, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an unsettling, hypnotic intensity.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Dominic reached into the inner pocket of his charcoal jacket. He pulled out a thick, heavy manila folder sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the Gallagher family crest.
He tossed the folder onto the circular poker table beside them.
May you like
Harper’s full name—Harper Quinn—was printed across the front in neat, professional black lettering.
“The contents of this folder,” Dominic said quietly, stepping closer until the clean, expensive scent of sandalwood and subtle musk filled her senses, “are the exact reason your brother is still breathing right now.”
