Chapter 3 - The Offer on the Third Floor
Three nights after the incident at Leon’s, the game changed permanently.
Daisy was scrubbing down the espresso machine at closing time when the back door of the restaurant—an industrial steel exit that opened into a dark, shadowy alleyway off Michigan Avenue—slammed open. The heavy crash echoed through the quiet kitchen, followed by the heavy, measured footsteps of men who didn't knock.
Mr. Henderson scurried out of his office, his shirt half-unbuttoned, looking terrified. But before he could reach the kitchen, two broad-shouldered men in charcoal suits stepped through the swinging doors.
They weren't here to make a scene. They were here with surgical precision.
The man with the thick neck walked straight past Henderson, ignoring the floor manager entirely, and stopped two feet from Daisy. He placed a heavy, embossed business card on the stainless-steel counter next to the damp cleaning rag.
"Mr. Vance would like a word," the bodyguard said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Daisy looked down at the card. It was thick, cream-colored, and completely blank except for a single embossed address in the River North district and a handwritten phone number. No corporate logo. No title. Just an invitation to the inner sanctum of Chicago's most feared underground empire.
"Tell Mr. Vance I finish my shift at eleven," Daisy said, wiping down the steam wand with deliberate slowness. "If he wants to talk to me, he can wait until I punch out like everyone else."
Henderson let out a high-pitched squeak of absolute panic. "Daisy! Are you out of your mind? You don't tell Mr. Vance to wait! You go! You go right now!"
The bodyguard stared at Daisy for a long, agonizing moment. Then, a slow, grim smile touched his scarred lips. He didn't threaten her. He simply nodded once, turned around, and walked out into the night, leaving the heavy steel door swinging behind him.
Forty minutes later, true to her word, Daisy clocked out, untied her stiff black apron, and walked out the front doors of Leon’s.
Waiting at the curb was a sleek, matte-black town car with tinted windows. The rear door clicked open automatically.
Daisy didn't hesitate. She climbed inside.
The interior smelled of aged leather, rain, and expensive cologne. Dominic Vance sat in the corner of the plush backseat, bathed in the dim, amber glow of the city lights filtering through the glass. He wasn't working on his phone. He was looking directly at her, his expression unreadable.
"You have a remarkable talent for testing patience, Daisy," Dominic said as the car pulled silently away from the curb, merging into the late-night Chicago traffic.
"And you have a remarkable talent for making people jump through hoops," Daisy replied, settling comfortably against the leather upholstery. "If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just stayed at your table."
Dominic let out a low, genuine chuckle—a sound that was richer and far more dangerous than she expected. "Most people spend years trying to figure out how to survive in my world. You walk right into the lion's den and start rearranging the furniture."
"I'm not trying to survive in your world, Mr. Vance," Daisy said, turning her head to meet his slate-gray eyes directly. "I'm trying to pay my mother's medical bills and keep my apartment from being foreclosed. Your world is just an inconvenience I have to navigate to get home."
Dominic studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"What if I told you I could make your financial problems disappear tonight?" Dominic asked softly. "What if I told you that you never have to wipe down an espresso machine or deal with pompous floor managers ever again?"
Daisy looked at him, her heart skipping a single beat before settling into a steady, rhythmic thrum. She knew nothing in life was free, especially not when offered by a man like Dominic Vance.
"What's the catch?" she asked.
May you like
"No catch," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a smooth, hypnotic register. "Just an investment. I need someone in my circle who isn't afraid of me. Someone who can look me in the eye and tell me the truth when everyone else is lying. Come work for me."
---
