Chapter 4 - The Lion's Den
Maddie flagged down an oncoming taxi with a desperate wave of both arms. The cab slammed on its brakes, the driver staring in shock at a woman in a shredded, soaking-wet gold gown covered in grease and harbor mud.
""Five hundred dollars if you step on the gas and don't ask questions,"" Maddie panted, opening the door and throwing three soaked hundred-dollar bills from her clutch onto the front seat.
The driver’s eyes widened. He hit the throttle just as two men burst out from the alleyway, their hands tucked menacingly beneath their jackets. The yellow cab accelerated into the downtown traffic, disappearing into the neon glow of the metropolitan grid.
""Where to, lady?"" the driver asked, checking his rearview mirror nervously.
Maddie caught her breath, wiping the saltwater and damp strands of hair from her face. She couldn't go back to the mansion; Bradley’s men would already have it surrounded. She couldn't go to her friends; they were the same spineless parasites sipping cocktails by the pool who had laughed when she was humiliated.
There was only one person ruthless enough, independent enough, and wealthy enough to stand between her and the machinery of Bradley’s family.
""Take me to the Aurelius Tower,"" she said, her voice dropping into an icy register. ""The penthouse entrance.""
Forty minutes later, Maddie stood in the polished obsidian lobby of the city’s most fortified private residence. The doorman had tried to stop her, but she produced her father's platinum corporate insignia—a token recognized only by the upper echelon of global financiers.
The elevator doors chimed and opened directly into a vast, minimalist penthouse overlooking the illuminated bay.
Standing beside the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, a glass of amber scotch in hand, was Christian Kane.
At thirty-five, Christian was the legendary head of Kane Maritime, her father's fiercest business rival and a man Bradley had spent the last year trying to bankrupt. Christian was broad-shouldered, with sharp, predatory cheekbones and eyes like slate steel. He turned, surveying Maddie's drenched, battered appearance with a single raised eyebrow.
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""Well, well,"" Christian murmured, setting his glass on the marble credenza. ""Maddie Vance. Dressed like a drowned mermaid and breaking into my sanctuary past midnight. Did your charming fiancé throw you out of his toy house?""
""Bradley is not my fiancé,"" Maddie said, walking forward, leaving wet footprints on the pristine white oak floors. She slapped the sealed wax envelope onto the table between them. ""And Bradley murdered my father. I need an army, Christian. And I know you want his head.""
