Chapter 6 - The Deal in the Dark
The interior of the Maybach felt less like a car and more like a private jet cabin. Heated leather seats, soft ambient lighting, and absolute, soundproof silence cocooned us as the vehicle glided effortlessly through the rain-slicked Manhattan streets.
I sat stiffly on the far side of the spacious back seat. Mikey sat between us, his small head nodding off against my shoulder, finally exhausted by the adrenaline crash.
Across from us sat Alexander Cross.
He hadn't said a single word since we left the diner. He sat in the dim light of the car, staring out the tinted window at the blurred city lights, his fingers rhythmically tapping against a leather-bound tablet.
“You don't have to do this,” I whispered across the center console, keeping my voice low so I wouldn't wake Mikey.
Alexander didn't look away from the window immediately. When he finally turned his head, his storm-gray eyes were unreadable.
“Do what, Miss Carter?”
“Buy me off,” I said, my voice hardening with frustration. “Think you can just throw a salary at me, fix my apartment door, and turn me into part of your staff like I’m some kind of domestic appliance.”
A slow, dangerous smile touched Alexander’s lips. It was the first time I saw something genuine behind his polished facade—a spark of dark amusement.
“You think I’m buying you off?” he asked softly. “Clara—may I call you Clara?”
“I’d prefer Miss Carter.”
“Clara,” he repeated, ignoring my preference entirely. “If I wanted to buy you off, you would already have a suitcase of cash and a one-way ticket to a city where no one asks questions. The fact that I am bringing you into my home—into the center of my life—means I am doing the exact opposite of getting rid of you.”
My stomach flipped, and not entirely from fear. “And why would you want me there? Your ex-wife left because she said you were a tyrant who built walls out of money. Adding a cynical waitress to the mix isn't going to fix your broken home.”
Alexander went still. The dark amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, heavy shadow.
“My wife did not leave because of walls, Clara,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight of raw, buried pain. “She left because she couldn't survive the darkness inside this family. And for years, I thought the only way to protect my son was to lock the doors and keep everyone out.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, bringing his face closer to mine in the dim cabin light.
May you like
“Then you walked in,” Alexander continued, his voice fierce and steady. “You didn't ask who I was. You didn't bow, you didn't cower, and you didn't run away when my men knocked on your door. You looked at my son and you fed him. That is not something money can buy.”
Before I could formulate a response, the car smoothly glided through a pair of towering wrought-iron gates that parted like heavy jaws before us.
