Chapter 1 - The Hand on Her Wrist
Khloe Harrison pulled against Chad Wilkins’s grip and whispered: “Let me go.”
Vincent Moretti stepped forward and picked up Khloe’s fallen employee badge.
A tiny number had been scratched beneath the magnetic strip.
17-04.
Vincent stopped looking at Khloe.
“You little liar.”
Chad’s fingers tightened around her wrist.
A champagne glass slipped from a waiter’s tray and shattered against the polished black marble floor.
The sound cracked through the Obsidian Lounge like a gunshot.
Every conversation stopped.
Khloe could hear the last notes of the pianist dying beneath the sudden silence. She could feel dozens of eyes turning toward her: executives, investors, socialites, men whose watches cost more than her annual salary.
And Chad wanted every one of them watching.
“Tell them,” he said.
Khloe swallowed.
“Tell them what?”
“Where you put it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chad laughed without humor. “Of course you don’t.”
Three hours earlier, Khloe had arrived believing the evening would change her life for the better.
She had spent four years working for Wilkins Hospitality Group, beginning as an administrative assistant and slowly climbing into event management. She worked late, remembered every client’s preferences, and fixed problems Chad created before anyone important noticed them.
Tonight was supposed to be her reward.
The company was celebrating the acquisition of the Obsidian Lounge, one of Chicago’s most exclusive private venues.
Chad had even told her that morning that he planned to announce her promotion.
Instead, twenty minutes before midnight, he had stormed across the ballroom and accused her of stealing a black leather envelope containing confidential financial documents and a diamond bracelet belonging to one of the company’s investors.
Security had searched Khloe’s handbag.
They found nothing.
That should have ended it.
Chad had only become angrier.
“You were the last employee inside my private office,” he announced.
“Because you sent me there.”
“I sent you for the guest contracts.”
“Exactly.”
“And after you left, the envelope disappeared.”
Khloe stared at him.
Then something became clear.
This wasn’t an investigation.
Chad had already decided what everyone was supposed to believe.
“Call the police,” Khloe said.
A murmur moved through the room.
Chad’s expression flickered.
It lasted less than a second.
But someone noticed.
Vincent Moretti.
He had been standing several feet away, one hand resting casually in his trouser pocket.
Khloe knew who he was.
Everyone in Chicago knew.
Vincent rarely appeared in newspapers, but his name moved through expensive rooms differently from other names. People lowered their voices around it.
He owned restaurants, construction companies, nightclubs, and warehouses across the city. Rumors attached themselves to him wherever he went.
Some called him a businessman.
Others called him Chicago’s most feared mafia king.
Khloe had no idea which stories were true.
She only knew that when Vincent Moretti entered a room, powerful people suddenly remembered their manners.
His silver hair was swept away from a hard, weathered face. Dark tattoos climbed from beneath his open white collar and disappeared beneath the sleeves of his shirt.
He had barely spoken all evening.
Now his pale eyes were fixed on Chad’s hand.
The hand still wrapped around Khloe’s wrist.
“Call them,” Khloe repeated.
Chad leaned closer.
“You think acting innocent makes you innocent?”
“No. Evidence does.”
His face hardened.
“You little—”
A tattooed hand closed around Chad’s wrist.
Chad froze.
Vincent had crossed the distance between them so quietly that Khloe hadn’t seen him move.
“Release her,” Vincent said.
Chad’s mouth opened.
“Mr. Moretti, this is an internal company matter.”
Vincent looked down at Chad’s fingers.
“I didn’t ask what kind of matter it was.”
Chad released Khloe.
She immediately stepped backward.
Vincent remained between them.
Khloe rubbed the red marks forming around her wrist.
That was when Vincent bent down.
Her employee badge had fallen during the struggle.
He picked it up.
Khloe expected him to hand it back.
Instead, his eyes narrowed.
“What is this?”
He turned the badge over.
Four characters had been scratched beneath the magnetic strip.
17-04.
Khloe frowned.
“I’ve never seen that before.”
Chad looked at the badge.
His face changed.
Again, only for a second.
Vincent noticed.
“What does seventeen-oh-four mean?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Chad answered too quickly.
Vincent turned toward him.
“I asked her.”
Khloe took the badge.
“I really don’t know.”
Chad suddenly reached for it.
Vincent caught his arm.
This time, the room reacted.
Someone gasped.
The three men in black suits standing near the doors straightened.
Vincent’s voice dropped.
“Why do you want her badge?”
“I don’t.”
“You just tried to take it.”
“I was trying to help.”
Vincent stared at him.
Chad stopped talking.
Khloe’s fear slowly gave way to suspicion.
She looked at the number again.
17-04.
Something tugged at her memory.
Then she remembered.
“The basement.”
Chad’s eyes snapped toward her.
Vincent noticed that too.
“What basement?”
Khloe looked toward the rear corridor.
“When we were preparing the lounge for tonight, I saw old storage rooms downstairs. The doors were numbered.”
Vincent’s expression remained unreadable.
“And?”
“One of them was seventeen.”
Chad stepped forward.
“That area is restricted.”
Khloe looked at him.
“You told me it was empty.”
“It is.”
“Then why is it restricted?”
Chad didn’t answer.
Vincent took Khloe’s badge and studied the magnetic strip.
“This isn’t a normal employee card.”
Khloe frowned. “What do you mean?”
Vincent pointed toward a tiny gold contact embedded beside the strip.
“This has been modified.”
Chad’s face lost another shade of color.
Khloe stared at the badge she had carried for nearly two years.
“Modified for what?”
Vincent looked toward the corridor leading downstairs.
“There’s one way to find out.”
Chad blocked their path.
“No.”
The word came out sharper than he intended.
Vincent stopped.
The lounge became silent again.
Chad forced a smile.
“This is my company event. The lower level contains confidential records. Nobody is going down there.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Then call the police.”
Chad said nothing.
Khloe stared at him.
Twenty minutes ago, she had been terrified that everyone believed she was a thief.
Now she realized something worse.
Chad was terrified of someone discovering what was downstairs.
Vincent turned to Khloe.
“Your choice.”
She looked at the red marks on her wrist.
Then at the badge.
“Downstairs.”
They crossed the lounge together.
Behind them, Chad whispered urgently to someone on his phone.
Khloe heard only three words.
“Get there first.”
She stopped.
Vincent stopped beside her.
“You heard that?”
She nodded.
They moved faster.
The basement corridor was narrow and dim compared with the glittering lounge upstairs.
Doors lined both sides.
Khloe’s heartbeat quickened.
Then they reached 17.
The electronic lock showed a red light.
Khloe held up her badge.
“Should I?”
Vincent looked behind them.
Nobody.
“Do it.”
Khloe pressed the card against the reader.
Nothing happened.
Then the red light turned green.
A heavy lock clicked.
Khloe slowly reached toward the handle.
Before she touched it, a sound came from the other side.
A chair scraped across the floor.
Then someone whispered her name.
“Khloe?”
She went completely still.
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
May you like
Someone was inside Room 17.
And whoever it was had been waiting for her.
