Chapter 7 - THE TRAP|
The realization hit Beatrice like a bucket of ice water.
The waltz finished, the music fading into applause, but Beatrice froze in the middle of the dance floor, pulling her hand back from Arthur’s grip.
“You used me,” she breathed out, her hazel eyes flashing with sudden fury.
Arthur didn't deny it. He simply gestured toward the quiet terrace doors near the side of the ballroom. “Step outside with me, Beatrice.”
“No,” she hissed, turning on her heel. “I gave you my conditions, Arthur! You brought me here as a shield to flush out your own corrupt captains!”
Before she could take three steps toward the exit, Marco Costello—Arthur’s cousin—stepped into her path, a glass of dark scotch in his hand, his eyes red-rimmed and angry.
“Leaving so soon, Miss Gallagher?” Marco sneered, leaning in too close. “I was hoping we could discuss your little audit report before you go back to your basement.”
Beatrice didn't step back. She straightened her spine, her chin lifting. “The audit is already on Arthur’s desk, Marco. If I were you, I’d spend less time drinking scotch and more time looking for a good defense lawyer.”
Marco’s face twisted in rage. He set his glass down on a nearby tray and grabbed Beatrice roughly by the upper arm, pulling her toward the dark corridor leading to the private side rooms.
“You little rat,” Marco spat. “You think because Arthur put a nice dress on you, you’re untouchable?”
“Let go of her arm, Marco.”
May you like
The voice came from behind them, quiet, low, and dropping the temperature in the hallway to absolute zero.
Arthur stood at the entrance of the corridor, his hands tucked loosely into his tuxedo pockets. But his eyes held a lethal, murderous light that made Marco instantly freeze.
