Chapter 28
Before Vance could recover his composure, the temperature in the immediate vicinity plummeted to absolute zero. Nathaniel Rook stepped seamlessly out of the shadows, materializing directly behind Alma. His broad, powerful shoulders entirely blocked the light, casting a long, imposing shadow over the federal prosecutor.
"Are you attempting to negotiate logistics with my wife in the middle of a ballroom, Elias?" Nathaniel asked. His deep, low voice rolled through the space, the measured pauses striking like a physical blow.
Vance took a heavy step backward, his rosy skin paling slightly at the sudden, terrifying proximity of the undisputed king of the underworld. His three bodyguards instinctively reached for their concealed weapons.
"Rook," Vance grunted, attempting to regain his footing. "This is a simple business discussion. A mutually beneficial arrangement."
"Does a mutually beneficial arrangement require the intimidation of the woman who owns this city?" Nathaniel inquired, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto Vance. The artistic tattoos on his hands flexed as he gently placed his palms on Alma’s waist, claiming her with fierce, proprietary devotion.
"I meant no disrespect," Vance lied, sweat beading on his forehead. "I simply wanted to finalize the donation tonight."
"Then we will finalize it in my study," Nathaniel commanded smoothly. "Unless you prefer to finalize it on the marble floor."
The transition from the opulent, crowded ballroom to the soundproof, mahogany-paneled study was a journey from a sophisticated party into a lethal trap. Vance and his three bodyguards walked into the room, expecting a tense negotiation. They were profoundly mistaken.
As soon as the heavy oak doors clicked shut, the illusion of diplomacy vanished. Silas and Dante, Nathaniel’s most lethal capos, stepped out from behind the heavy silk curtains, their suppressed automatic weapons raised and aimed directly at Vance's bodyguards.
"Drop your weapons," Silas commanded, his American accent crisp and absolute.
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The guards hesitated for a fraction of a second. Nathaniel moved with explosive, blinding speed. He closed the distance to Vance, grabbed the heavy lapels of the prosecutor’s suit, and hurled the massive man violently across the room. Vance crashed into the heavy wooden desk, shattering a crystal decanter. The bodyguards instantly surrendered, dropping their handguns onto the thick Persian rug.
Nathaniel stood over the groaning federal prosecutor, his tailored tuxedo completely unhindered by the exertion. "Did you truly believe you could walk into my home and use my wife's name to launder your filthy assets?" Nathaniel whispered, his voice a vibrating hum of absolute danger.
