Chapter 5 - The Chess Match at DuskThree days had passed since Cassidy and her mother moved into the North Wing of the Valente estate. Clara Tate was thriving under the care of the private medical staff, her spirits lifted by the sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her recovery suite. Barnaby the cat had successfully colonized a plush velvet armchair in the library and was currently living his best life.
Cassidy, however, was restless.
She stood in the massive, professional-grade stainless-steel kitchen of the estate, wearing an oversized cashmere sweater borrowed from the guest wardrobe, watching the head chef prepare a delicate seafood risotto.
“Can I chop those herbs?” Cassidy asked, pointing to a bundle of fresh basil on the cutting board.
The chef, a towering Italian man named Chef Lorenzo who had cooked for heads of state, looked horrified. “Miss Tate! You are an honored guest of Mr. Valente! You do not touch knives!”
“I worked five dinner shifts a week at the Gilded Spoon, Chef,” Cassidy laughed, tying an apron around her waist anyway. “I can chop basil without amputating my fingers.”
Before Lorenzo could protest further, heavy footsteps echoed across the tile floor. Dominic entered the kitchen, his dark overcoat slung over one shoulder, his tie loosened. He looked exhausted; the dark circles beneath his grey eyes spoke of forty-eight hours without sleep, spent managing the escalating gang war across the city’s shipping corridors.
Yet the moment he saw Cassidy standing by the counter with a chef’s knife in her hand, chopping basil with rhythmic precision, a faint, genuine smile touched the corners of his mouth.
“She’s a menace, Chef,” Dominic teased, tossing his coat onto a nearby stool. “Give her five minutes and she’ll be running the entire culinary brigade.”
“She refused my orders, Mr. Valente!” Lorenzo threw his hands up in theatrical despair, though his eyes were twinkling with amusement. “She is a natural!”
Dominic walked over, leaning against the marble island inches from Cassidy. He watched her hands move, appreciating the calm, methodical way she handled the task.
“Your mother is resting,” Dominic said softly, his voice dropping below the ambient noise of the kitchen. “Dr. Vance says her blood panels have improved by twenty percent since Tuesday.”
“Because she’s not stressed about bills for the first time in ten years,” Cassidy said without stopping her work. She looked up at him, her green eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Dominic. For the doctors, for the room, for keeping us safe. I still don't know why you went to such extremes.”
“I told you,” Dominic replied, his tone turning serious. “I don't leave debts unpaid. And D’Amico is making my job very easy right now.”
Cassidy paused, resting the knife against the wooden board. “What do you mean?”
“D’Amico made a tactical error yesterday,” Dominic said, accepting a cup of black coffee from Lorenzo without looking away from Cassidy. “He assumed that because Gavin was hospitalized, the information stream dried up. He sent a second-tier lieutenant to meet with our corrupted port director down at Pier 41 to salvage the operation.”
“And you caught them?”
“We didn't just catch them,” Dominic’s lips curved into a dangerous, predatory smile. “We invited them into a trap. D’Amico thinks he’s fighting a war in the shadows. Tonight, we’re going to bring him out into the light.”
Cassidy’s heart skipped a beat. “Tonight? What are you talking about?”
“There is a charity gala at the Drake Hotel tonight,” Dominic explained calmly, sipping his coffee. “Every high-ranking corporate executive, politician, and syndicate boss in Chicago will be in attendance. D’Amico will be there to project strength, pretending he knows nothing about the warehouse leaks or the hit on Gavin.”
“And you’re going?”
“I am,” Dominic set his mug down on the counter. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind Cassidy’s ear. His touch sent a warm, tingling wave down her spine. “And I want you to come with me.”
Cassidy stepped back, her eyes widening. “Me? Dominic, I’m a former waitress! I don't belong at a charity gala with crime lords and politicians! I don't even have a dress!”
“Marcus already delivered three options from Saks Fifth Avenue to your suite an hour ago,” Dominic said smoothly. “And as for belonging... Cassidy, you stood up to the most vicious floor manager in River North to protect a child you’d never met. You have more backbone than half the people walking into that ballroom tonight.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
“D’Amico knows my face,” Dominic whispered, his grey eyes locked onto hers with hypnotic intensity. “He knows my security detail. But he doesn't know you. He doesn't know that the woman standing beside me at the gala isn't just a date—she’s the key to unravelling his entire financial network.”
Cassidy’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
“Gavin’s offshore accounts weren’t registered to him,” Dominic said. “They were routed through a dummy corporation. A corporation whose primary legal signatory was recently transferred to a shell company controlled by Victor D’Amico’s sister.”
Dominic reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, customized micro-drive. He placed it gently beside the cutting board.
“Tonight, at the gala, D’Amico’s chief accountant will be carrying a secure ledger tablet containing the master encryption keys to those accounts,” Dominic continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The accountant is notoriously cautious. He won't talk to me, and my men can't get within ten feet of him without triggering a firefight.”
Cassidy stared at the micro-drive, then up at Dominic. The pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.
“You want me to get close to him,” she whispered.
“You used to work the floor at the Gilded Spoon,” Dominic said, his eyes burning with absolute confidence in her abilities. “You know how to move through a crowd, how to read a room, and how to slip past security without raising an eyebrow. You circulate through the VIP lounge with a champagne tray. You lift the encryption key from his jacket pocket while he’s distracted. And you hand it to me.”
The kitchen around them seemed to fade away. The hum of the refrigerator, the scent of risotto, the chatter of the chefs—it all vanished, replaced by the pounding of blood in her ears. It was insane. It was dangerous, reckless, and completely illegal.
It was also the only way to ensure that Victor D’Amico could never threaten her, her mother, or Elena ever again.
Cassidy reached out, her fingers closing around the cold metal micro-drive. She slid it into the pocket of her sweater.
“If I get caught,” Cassidy said, her voice steady and resolute, “what happens?”
May you like
Dominic’s expression softened, all the ruthlessness draining away, leaving behind a fierce, unyielding devotion.
“You won't get caught,” he promised, stepping close enough for his breath to brush her cheek. “Because I will be watching you every single second. And anyone who looks at you sideways tonight answers to me.”
