Faye Hartman POV
The transition from the oppressive silence of the dining room to the roar of the storm outside was jarring. The moment the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind us, the temperature plummeted. The portico of the Lakefront Estate offered little shelter from the wind that whipped off the lake, carrying the scent of rain and ozone.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently in my silk dress. A sleek, black armored Cadillac idled at the base of the steps like a crouching beast, its headlights cutting through the deluge.
"I should go back," I said, my voice barely audible over the rain. "Joshua will wonder where I am."
"Joshua is currently staring at a ledger that proves he is a thief," Anthony said. He stood beside me, unaffected by the cold, a monolith of dark wool and darker intent. "He isn't thinking about you."
He stepped closer, blocking the wind. Before I could protest, he stripped off his suit jacket. The heavy fabric settled over my shoulders, instantly enveloping me in his heat and the intoxicating scent of expensive scotch and sandalwood. It felt less like a gesture of chivalry and more like a net being cast.
"Get in the car, Faye."
I took a step back, my heels scraping against the wet stone. "No. My husband is inside. I am not going anywhere with you."
Anthony laughed, a low, humorless sound. "Your husband? The man who siphoned seventy-four thousand dollars from my club to pay for a penthouse in SoHo? The man who is currently sweating because he knows I know about the bastard growing in his mistress's belly?"
The air left my lungs. "You... you know?"
"I know everything. Joshua is a coward who can't manage his money or his women." Anthony's gray eyes bored into mine, stripping away my denial. "Now, get in the car. Do not make me repeat myself."
It was a Don's Command. The weight of it pressed against my spine, triggering an instinctual fear that overrode all logic. My legs moved before my mind consented.
The interior of the Cadillac was a sealed capsule of silence and leather. The partition was up, isolating us from the driver. As the door thudded shut, sealing us in the dim green glow of the dashboard lights, panic clawed at my throat.
I fumbled with my clutch, my fingers trembling as I pulled out the three hundred dollars I had carried with me since that night. I needed to end this. I needed to define this.
"Here," I whispered, placing the crisp bills on the center console between us. "For... for the other night. The hotel. I want us to be even."
Anthony stared at the money as if it were a dead rat. The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Even?" he repeated softly. "You think you can buy me off like a cheap whore, Faye?"
"I just want it to be a transaction," I stammered, terrified by the lethal stillness radiating from him. "Transactions are clean. They end."
"I don't do clean transactions."
He reached into his pocket and tossed something onto my lap. It was a diamond stud earring. My earring. The one I had lost in the tangled sheets of the penthouse suite.
"I found that on my pillow," he said. "You left a trace. And now, I'm taking something in return."
Before I could process the return of the jewelry, his hand shot out, seizing my left wrist. His grip was iron, bruising and inescapable. I gasped, trying to yank my hand back, but he was immovable.
"Anthony, stop!"
He ignored me. His other hand grasped the sapphire engagement ring on my finger—the Caldwell family heirloom that Joshua had slid onto my hand with a smug smile six months ago. With a ruthless, efficient tug, Anthony ripped it from my finger.
"No!" I cried out, staring at the pale band of skin where the ring had been. "Joshua will kill me. That's his mother's ring!"
Anthony held the sapphire up to the dim light, inspecting it with a sneer. "It's my family's ring. And Joshua forfeited his right to it the moment he betrayed our blood." He closed his fist over the jewel, making it disappear. "Consider this collateral. Since you insist on paying debts."
"Give it back," I begged, tears stinging my eyes. "Please."
"You want it back?" He leaned in, his face inches from mine. The predatory hunger in his eyes made my breath hitch. "Then you will do exactly as I say. Divorce him."
The command hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
"I... I can't," I whispered. "You know I can't."
"Then I suggest you find a way," Anthony murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips, then lower, lingering on the curve of my neck exposed by his jacket. "Because if you don't, I will collect that three hundred dollars' worth of service from you myself. And I promise you, Faye, the interest rate will be exorbitant."
He unlocked the door on my side. The sound was as loud as a gunshot.
"Get out."
"Anthony—"
"Get out before I change my mind and decide to collect right now."
I scrambled out of the car, stumbling into the rain. The door slammed shut behind me, and the Cadillac peeled away, disappearing into the storm. I stood alone in the driveway, shivering under the weight of the Don's jacket, clutching my empty hand.
