Chapter 3 - ECHOES OF A SYNDICATE
"Everybody out," Storm said. His voice was a low, vibrating growl that commanded instant obedience.
Malcolm didn't hesitate. He practically sprinted for the elevator.
I grabbed Leo’s hand, pulling him gently behind me. "We’re leaving too," I said, turning on my heel.
"Don't take another step, Juliet."
I stopped, not out of obedience, but because of the raw desperation in his tone. Storm crossed the massive room in four long strides, stopping just a few feet away. He was vibrating with a tension so palpable it felt like standing next to a live wire.
He crouched down slowly, picking up the silver Aston Martin. He held it out to Leo.
"Here," Storm said, his voice dropping an octave, softening in a way I hadn't heard since the nights we spent tangled in his sheets.
Leo took it, eyeing the massive man warily. "Thanks."
"Leo," I said softly, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Go sit on the bench by the elevator. Put your headphones on. Five minutes."
Leo looked between me and Storm. His six-year-old brain was processing the danger, calculating the threat. Finally, he nodded, walked to the velvet bench, and clamped his noise-canceling headphones over his ears.
Storm stood up to his full, towering height. The vulnerability was gone, replaced by a dark, consuming fury.
"Six years," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Six years, Juliet."
"You bought my silence for five million dollars," I fired back, refusing to shrink. "I just chose not to take your money."
"You hid my son."
"I protected my son!" I hissed, taking a step toward him. "You handed me severance papers. You told me it wasn't personal. You were drowning in a turf war with the Russians, you were purging your own ranks, and you looked at me like I was a liability. You think I was going to hand a baby over to the mob?"
Storm flinched. The word mob hit him like a physical blow. "I pushed you away to keep you alive, Juliet. The Volkov syndicate had a hit out on everything I touched. If they knew about you... if they knew you were carrying my heir..." He dragged a hand down his face. "I made you hate me so you would run. And it worked."
I stared at him, the walls of my carefully constructed life trembling. "You're lying. You didn't know."
"I didn't know about the baby," he confessed, his voice breaking. "God, Juliet, I didn't know. But I knew I couldn't protect you in New York. I wanted you far away from the blood."
May you like
"Well, I am far away," I said, tears prickling my eyes. "And we are doing just fine without you. Do not ruin this for him, Storm. Walk away."
"Walk away?" A dark, humorless laugh escaped his lips. The Mafia King returned, his eyes turning cold and possessive. "That's my blood sitting on that bench. That's my son. I’m not walking away. I’m moving in."
