Chapter 6 - Breakfast with the Boss
The private dining room on the main floor of the estate was a sunlit gallery featuring exposed brick, climbing ivy framed by arched French doors, and a long mahogany table laden with fresh fruit, artisan pastries, and steaming coffee.
Dominic Gallagher sat at the head of the table, wearing a dark gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, reading a digital tablet with one hand while holding a cup of black coffee in the other.
When Harper walked into the room, wearing a simple cream-colored linen blouse and tailored trousers, Dominic didn't look up immediately. He let her take her seat across from him before setting the tablet down.
“You slept late,” Dominic observed, his slate-gray eyes scanning her face with practiced precision.
“I didn't sleep at all,” Harper corrected coldly, picking up a silver spoon and stirring her coffee with unnecessary force. “It’s hard to sleep when you realize you’re living in a mausoleum decorated by a dictator.”
A faint, dry smile touched Dominic’s mouth. He picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip before setting it back down.
“You have your firm,” Dominic noted smoothly. “You have your brother safely tucked away in an Ivy League school two thousand miles from the Chicago docks. Your mother’s home is secure. And the architectural project of your life is breaking ground next month. If this is a dictatorship, Harper, your subjects seem to be thriving.”
“You bought my life, Dominic,” she snapped, her brown eyes flashing with sudden, sharp anger. “You didn't win me. You cornered me. There’s a difference.”
Dominic leaned back in his leather chair, his dark eyes darkening slightly, the playful edge vanishing from his expression, replaced by the heavy, immovable weight of the apex predator she had met in the Obsidian Lounge.
“I didn't corner you, Harper,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, steady rumble. “I cleared the board. Every obstacle standing between you and your potential was removed with surgical precision. If I wanted a terrified prisoner, I could have locked you in a basement. But I didn't.”
He leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the mahogany table, pinning her with his gaze.
“I want an equal,” Dominic stated, every word falling like an anvil. “I want a woman who isn't afraid to look me in the eye and slap my face when I cross a line. I want someone who can stand beside me at the syndicate galas, look the city’s most corrupt power brokers in the eye, and make them second-guess their own shadows. You think I chose you because of a debt? I chose you because you are the only person in this city who isn't afraid of me.”
Harper stared at him, the wind completely taken out of her sails. The anger that had sustained her through the sleepless nights suddenly wavered against the sheer, overwhelming force of his conviction.
Before she could form a reply, the heavy oak doors of the dining room burst open.
May you like
Marcus strode into the room, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead, holding a secure encrypted phone in his massive hand.
“Boss,” Marcus blurted out, breaking protocol entirely by interrupting breakfast. “We have a major problem on the west side docks.”
