Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage
The Varelli penthouse was not a home. It was a fortress made of glass, steel, and shadows.
Overlooking the Chicago skyline, the residence was silent. Too silent.
Lena stood in the center of a guest bedroom that was larger than her entire apartment. The sheets were Egyptian cotton. The closet was suddenly filled with neutral, perfectly tailored lounge clothes in her exact size.
Her phone buzzed. A text from the hospital. The Varelli Trust has covered all expenses. Dr. Evans is operating at 8:00 AM.
Tears pricked her eyes. She fell back onto the mattress, letting out a sob of pure relief.
She was sold. But her grandmother was saved.
At 1:00 a.m. the next night, there was a knock on her door.
A quiet, older housekeeper named Maria stood there. “Mr. Varelli is ready for you, Miss.”
Lena followed Maria down a long, dark hallway.
Adrien’s master suite was cold. The air conditioning was turned down low. He was sitting on the edge of a massive bed, dressed in black silk trousers, staring out at the city lights.
A single leather chair had been pulled up to the side of the bed.
“Sit,” he commanded softly.
Lena sat.
Adrien lay down. He closed his eyes. His jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might shatter.
Minutes ticked by. Ten. Twenty. He was rigid.
Hesitantly, Lena reached out.
She remembered the booth at the restaurant. She remembered the warmth.
Her small, slightly calloused hand gently covered his large, scarred one resting on the mattress.
Adrien flinched. His entire body went taut.
Then, a shuddering breath escaped his lungs.
The tension melted from his shoulders. The deep furrow between his brows smoothed out.
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Within five minutes, the ruthless king of Chicago’s underworld was fast asleep, his hand gripping hers like a lifeline.
Lena sat there in the dark, watching the monster breathe like a mortal man.
