Chapter 9 - THE CAR RIDE|
The sleek black Maybach glided through the freezing Chicago rain, heading west toward Pilsen.
Inside the quiet rear cabin, the silence was suffocating. Beatrice sat pressed against the leather door, staring out at the blurred neon lights of the city. Arthur sat on the opposite side, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, staring straight ahead into the dark.
“I didn't bring you tonight just to catch Marco,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, rough, and entirely devoid of his usual corporate composure.
Beatrice didn't turn her head. “Didn't you? It worked out quite conveniently for you. You cleared my brother’s debt, made me wear a dress, and used me as bait for your corrupt captains.”
“Marco was a bonus,” Arthur growled softly, turning his head to look at her in the dim light of the cabin. “I brought you because I was tired of watching every man in this city look at you like you were invisible just because you wear practical shoes and carry a ledger.”
Beatrice turned her head, her hazel eyes locking onto his with genuine shock.
“What?” she whispered.
Arthur leaned across the wide leather seat, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his broad chest.
“You think I don't notice you, Beatrice?” he murmured, his dark gray eyes searching her face. “I’ve watched you for two years. I’ve watched you command rooms full of armed men with nothing but a pen and a column of numbers. I’ve watched you protect your useless brother while taking none of his credit.”
He reached out, his long, calloused fingers gently touching the side of her neck, right where Marco’s hand had rested earlier.
May you like
Beatrice gasped softly, her skin shivering at his touch.
“I didn't buy you armor tonight, Beatrice,” Arthur whispered, his thumb tracing her jawline. “I wanted them to see what I see every single day.”
