Chapter 4 - The Car Outside the Alley
Nora pushed open the heavy glass front doors of Aster House, stepping out onto the bustling downtown sidewalk. The morning chill hit her cheeks, and she instinctively pulled her coat tighter around her waist.
She felt a strange, hollow lightness in her chest. Six years of routine, of late-night buses, of aching arches and burnt-out apron strings, was suddenly gone. In a weird way, she felt liberated.
She turned down the side street toward the subway station, lost in thought about how she was going to pay her rent next month, when a massive, obsidian-tinted Maybach glided silently to the curb beside her.
The rear door clicked open instantly.
A broad-shouldered man in a charcoal suit stepped out, blocking her path with polite, immovable efficiency. He didn't look threatening, exactly, but he had the unmistakable posture of a man who could dismantle a small army with his bare hands.
“Miss Nora Bennett?” the man asked. His voice was a low, gravelly baritone.
Nora stopped, stepping back. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Gideon Voss. Mr. Dominic Carver has requested your presence.”
Nora blinked. The name hung in the damp Chicago air like a thunderclap. She thought back to the previous night, to Dominic’s cold, razor-sharp gaze across the private dining table.
“Mr. Carver?” Nora repeated, skepticism written all over her face. “Tell Mr. Carver that if this is about the wine, the busser already cleaned it up, and if it’s about last night, I’m off the clock—literally, since your manager just fired me five minutes ago.”
Gideon’s eyebrows arched slightly. A faint flicker of amusement crossed his rugged face. “Fired you?”
“Suspended indefinitely, which is corporate-speak for ‘pack your locker.’”
“He didn't have the authority to do that,” Gideon said flatly.
“Well, nobody told Randall, because he looked awfully proud of himself.” Nora crossed her arms. “Look, Mr. Voss, I’m flattered by the mafia-style car ambush, but I have groceries to buy and a resume to update, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“Miss Bennett,” Gideon interrupted, stepping slightly closer so she couldn't walk past. “Mrs. Helena Carver is currently waiting for breakfast at the estate. She specifically requested your company. And when Mrs. Carver requests something, it is not a negotiation.”
Nora stared at him. The absurdity of the situation washed over her. A day ago, she was just an ordinary waitress serving overpriced steak. Now she was being kidnapped—politely—by a syndicate enforcer to have breakfast with the matriarch of the Chicago underworld.
“Does she have pastries?” Nora asked.
Gideon stared at her for two solid seconds before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “The best in the city, Miss Bennett. Please get in the car.”
May you like
Nora let out a long sigh, looked up at the gray Chicago sky, and muttered, “My dad always said I had terrible boundaries.”
She ducked her head and climbed into the luxurious leather interior of the Maybach.
