Chapter 10 - The Calm Before the Storm
Three weeks passed in a surreal, luxurious haze.
Under Ethan’s absolute protection, the Moretti family had formally backed down, retreating to their traditional territories on the South Side. Julian Vane had vanished from Chicago, completely ruined, his assets seized and his name erased from corporate registries.
Ethan had bought out the remainder of my diner lease in East L.A., settled every outstanding debt I possessed, and secured a high-end interior design job for Elena in downtown Chicago under a Callahan subsidiary. For the first time in my adult life, I didn't wake up at 4:30 AM smelling of stale frying oil, terrified of how I was going to buy Sophie’s next can of formula.
Sophie had blossomed. She was crawling across the plush carpets of the penthouse, laughing whenever Ethan walked into the room. And Ethan—the man who commanded an army of armed soldiers and made city aldermen sweat with a single phone call—would sit on the floor in his tailored trousers, patiently rolling a soft plush ball back and forth with a seven-month-old girl.
It was intoxicating. And terrifying.
Because every morning when Ethan left the penthouse, two armed guards walked with him to the private elevator. Every evening, he returned with the faint, cold scent of gunpowder or boardroom tension clinging to his coat. I was falling in love with a man who walked along the razor edge of life and death every single day.
One evening, after putting Sophie to bed, I walked out onto the private terrace overlooking the lake. The summer air was warm, carrying the faint breeze off Lake Michigan.
Ethan stepped up behind me, wrapping a soft cashmere throw around my shoulders before his arms rested lightly around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest. I leaned into him, letting his warmth envelop me.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured against my hair.
“I’m thinking about how dangerous this is,” I admitted softly, looking out at the glittering lights of the shoreline.
“I told you, Moretti won't touch you.”
“I’m not talking about Moretti, Ethan,” I said, turning in his arms to face him. I reached up, resting my hands against the crisp lapels of his jacket. “I’m talking about us. Look at this world. Look at what you do. Sophie and I... we’re ordinary people. What happens when the next enemy comes? What happens when you realize I don't belong in a glass fortress?”
Ethan’s eyes darkened with fierce, possessive certainty. He pulled me closer, eliminating every fraction of space between us.
“You think you’re ordinary?” he whispered, his hand sliding up my neck, fingers threading into my hair. “You survived a double shift in East L.A. and stood down a mob enforcer to save your sister. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, Rachel.”
He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine—soft at first, testing, before deepening into a desperate, hungry kiss that left me breathless and clinging to his shoulders. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were burning with an intensity that shook me to my core.
“I’m not letting you go back to California,” he growled softly against my lips. “Stay here. With me. Let me give you and Sophie the life you deserve.”
Before I could answer, a sharp chime rang out from his encrypted phone on the glass patio table.
Ethan paused, his jaw tightening as he stepped away to answer it. His voice turned back into the cold commander. “Speak.”
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The voice on the other end was frantic, loud enough for me to catch fragments of the words: “Boss... breached the perimeter at the Michigan Avenue docks... it’s not Moretti... federal agents with a sealed grand jury indictment... and someone inside leaked the surveillance logs from the Drake!”
Ethan’s eyes snapped to mine.
