Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
CHICAGO
A dria stepped out of the Uber, her heels clicking against the cold concrete. The building in front of her loomed like a castle—sharp lines, all polished glass and steel. Everything about this city grated on her nerves. Charlotte had stone, history, a soul. This place? Metal and opulence, all designed to show how much money could buy.
Callen, for all his wealth, had nothing but showmanship. In an eighty-floor building, his office was on the eighth. She had no illusions about how far he’d gotten.
Behind her, Eric walked quietly, a hired security guard in tow. She smoothed down her skirt absently. She wasn’t one to enjoy meetings like these, but she would play the game. For now, anyway.
Stepping out of the elevator onto Callen’s floor, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face and ran her fingers along her well-manicured bun before entering the room.
The room smelled of charcuterie and fine cheese. The glass walls of the office seemed to trap the sunlight, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor. She could feel the coldness of the room pressing against her, but she refused to let it show. Instead, dawning the mask she had built over a lifetime.
Power was interesting in that it could be used for good or for evil. A fascinating force, that some wielded with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel, while others stomped around with it like a stampeding elephant.
Callen was the latter. He ran the Romanian family empire with a ruthlessness second only to her father. His son, Bryson, was equally despicable, if not worse. Having a reputation within the Nine for being brash and arrogant.
Callen stood respectfully as she entered the room, but Bryson lounged to the far right, his left boot on the table. A fur coat fell off his shoulder, exposing the top of a lynx tattoo. He wore an abundance of jewelry. Several gold earrings in his right ear, a gold hoop pierced through his septum, and a single long chain dangled from the left ear. Rings covered each of his hands. The overall demeanor screamed, I don’t care if you look at me, but I obviously want you to.
Adria didn’t let her gaze linger too long. She wasn’t in the habit of giving men what they wanted.
“Callen,” she said, turning her attention to the family head.
Her skin crawled as she embraced the man, kissing him on both cheeks. “It has been too long.”
Callen’s moist lips kissed her father’s ring. He wore a white shirt under a black blazer. A faded tattoo snaked up his neck and connected with, what she was sure he would be angry to know, a poorly dyed black beard.
“Princess, it’s a pleasure, as always.”
Adria swallowed the bile that rose in her throat when he used her father’s affectionate nickname.
She and X had plans. Plans that would increase her power in the Nine and bring her mother back. But there were active pieces currently in play, and the plan wasn’t ready. She couldn’t afford an inter-family dispute or a turf war. Which meant she needed to play nice at today’s meeting.
Callen clapped his hands and, immediately, people carrying an assortment of delicacies filled the room, stuffing the table to the brim with a large arrangement of food. The spread could have easily fed fifty.
“What a wonderful surprise, Callen. You never disappoint.”
She despised him.
“May I suggest the oysters?” He handed her a small plate.
“I had them flown in specially from Maine. They are to die for.”
She grabbed the gold-lined plate with red and white trim, Romanian family colors.
“If you have issues swallowing, these can cure you of that.” He winked.
She grabbed one, bringing it to her lips.
“I’ll have to try feeding them to one of my pets. Some of them have the hardest time learning to swallow.”
At his surprised look, she downed the oyster.
“What about you, Bryson?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
He looked up as she was dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Have an easy time swallowing your father’s oysters?”
Anger flashed in his eyes, but after a quick glance to his father, he composed himself, choosing to ignore her remark.
So, he can be taught manners.
Callen continued to eat, prattling on about the comings and goings of the Winters empire, not stopping even to chew his food properly. Adria allowed this until it was clear that Callen had no plans to share the meeting’s purpose .
Her eyes began to glaze over. She rarely missed her father, but it was meetings like these where she wished he was still alive and it was him playing these ridiculous games and not her.
“Callen, as interesting as this all is, we both have a business to run. Why don’t you tell me what brings me to Chicago?”
Callen smacked his lips, licking a bit of cheese from his thumb.
“Bryce, what did I tell you? Just shy of thirty-six, and she’s as shrewd as ever. This one’s a viper. She’ll find your weakness before you even know she’s there. Keep your eye on her—just like her father.”
A chill crawled up Adria’s spine.
“I’m nothing like my father,” she said, her voice flat.
Too flat.
She’d forgotten to keep the innocent, feminine lilt she’d adopted upon arrival.
Callen’s fake smile faltered.
Shit.
She had shown emotion. A misstep. That meant she’d already lost the first round.
Her best move now was to stay silent and let Callen play his cards first.
“I brought you here for a business proposition,” he said, jaw tightening, the gleam in his eye betraying his usual measured control. “The Winters are looking to expand globally. We have several options, but we’re setting our sights on South America.”
Adria leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “I wasn’t aware you had allies there.”
“That’s for me to worry about.”
Her fingers tapped idly against the table as she tried to anticipate his angle. What does he want from me?
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Callen snapped his fingers. Three men emerged from the doorway, clearing the table between them. A map was rolled out, and Callen’s fat finger tapped an area in South America.
Something wasn’t right.
A rare flicker of excitement crossed Callen’s face, cracking his usual stoicism. “Actually, it’s a property of yours that’s piqued my interest.” His finger landed on the map. “Here. Off the Tapajós River in Brazil.”
Adria kept her expression smooth, but her pulse quickened.
How the fuck does he know about that property?
“And what would I get?” she asked, masking her unease.
Callen snapped his fingers again. A manila envelope appeared in front of her.
Sliding it open, her fingers brushed against crisp paper, cold and sterile. Inside: a dossier.
Courier contacts. Smuggler rights. A contract granting her exclusive access to a major shipping line.
She flipped through the pages, scanning photographs—men with sharp goatees, cocaine pallets stacked in warehouses, grim-faced women lined up like livestock.
Her stomach twisted.
The Nine didn’t deal in money. They delt in people, land, and favors.
Callen’s offer was clear.
“I don’t deal in girls.”
Her voice was ice.
Callen spread his hands in mock innocence. “Then don’t buy the girls.”
Adria exhaled slowly through her nose. The insult was obvious. It was well known that she had put a stop to women and child trafficking in her sector.
She sipped her tea, letting the silence stretch.
“You misunderstand me, Callen,” she said smoothly. “I do not deal in girls. Which means my associates do not deal in them, either. If this is your best offer, I respectfully decline.”
She moved to rise, eager to be free of this meeting?—
“I thought you might say that,” Callen murmured.
From inside his suit pocket, he pulled another envelope.
A much older one.
Adria stilled.
The wax seal was faded but unmistakable.
Her father’s crest.
Callen opened it. “This is an agreement your father and I drafted shortly after your mother’s treason.”
A cold sweat broke across Adria’s skin.
Once someone joined the Nine, death was the only way out. When her mother, Sophia, had tried to escape, Adria’s father couldn’t bring himself to kill her—so he had sold her to the Triune instead.
Her fingers felt numb as she took the envelope. The parchment was brittle under her touch.
“Your father extended the offer after your mother’s…stunt,” Callen said. “That land was part of her dowry. He wanted to rid himself of all reminders.”
Adria remembered.
Her father had burned everything. Photos, keepsakes—every trace of Sophia erased from existence.
All Adria had left was her mother’s purple coffee mug.
Prior to her ascension, Adria had believed the lie her father told her—that her mother had jumped to her death.
Which in a way, wasn’t far from the truth.
For years, Adria had been clawing her way up the ranks, brick by brick, seat by seat. She had worked with X, with the goal of her mother’s freedom in mind.
A seat at the Triune’s table.
The power to bring her mother back .
The risk was unimaginable. Working with X, an outsider, was treason. But for her mother, Adria was willing to risk everything.
Now, Callen held a piece of that past in his hands.
Adria wanted to hate her for leaving. But instead, she worried.
Worried she would forget her face or the feel of her fingers in her own.
But most of all, Adria worried she wouldn’t be enough to save her.
Callen leaned back, taking a slow sip of brandy. “For thirty years, this deal sat in my cabinet, gathering dust.” His smile twisted. “But recently, I saw its… value .”
Adria gritted her teeth.
It did have value.
The Venezuelan smugglers’ port had been shut down two years ago. From raids she and X had orchestrated. Since then, trade route times had doubled, making that land priceless .
If she controlled that port, she would control everything.
There was no way she could leave here without it.
She kept her voice even. “This offer is over thirty years old.”
Callen smirked. “And yet, still binding.”
His arrogance was unbearable. He thought he had won.
But Adria read the fine print again. Slowly.
And found her way out.
“It says here that I am to be provided with Mircea,” she said.
Mircea. A smuggler who had been dead for over a decade.
Callen lit a cigar. “An unforeseen complication,” he admitted. “But my substitute severance package is more than fair. ”
Drugs. Girls. Power. The same disgusting offer.
Adria noticed Bryson’s eyes were trained on her. It seemed he was suddenly interested in today’s meeting. Grabbing a grape, she chewed it slowly, feeling herself circling in for the kill.
She just needed to give Callen enough rope. “I disagree, this substitution deals in girls, something the Triune are well aware I do not use.”
“Dealers that work with boys are not as readily available,” Callen was quick to reply.
“That may be so, but find me a suitable alternative, or I will have no choice but to dispute this agreement with the Triune.”
Callen puffed on his cigar, his smile gone; this was going more in her favor now. What did he have that she wanted?
Adria reached for a strawberry. This time making eye contact with Bryson, watching him while she ate it. Younger than her, he had inexperience written all over his face. His calculating eyes seemed to tally her every move. Adria could feel the arrogance pouring off him like some kind of electric charge.
Despite his pompous opulence, he resembled one of her stable boys. However, her boys had never looked at her the way Bryson looked at her now. That smug, I have this handled attitude.
Idiot.
The minute his father had mentioned the deal, his interest was piqued. By his posture change, Adria would wager he was hungry for it. The why was something to be analyzed later as Adria had bigger things to focus on.
“What would a suitable alternative be?” Callen interrupted her musings.
“It’s not my job to put together deals for you,” she spoke to Callen, but kept her focus on Bryson. She was starting to feel like he had something to gain from this deal.
“No, but it is your responsibility to see this agreement through, and that isn’t going to happen with you being difficult,” Callen said.
Difficult . Adria hated the word. It was a term men liked to use when they felt the women around them weren’t playing their game, but he did have a point. She turned down the substitution; the ball was in her court to counter. She could not leave this room without this property. Looking back at Bryson, she parted her painted red lips and ran a strawberry along them. It didn’t take long for him to look away. No, not like her stable boys.
Visions of him in her home, pressed against her leather spanki?—
She shook her head. Those kinds of thoughts were not helpful.
Focus .
Bryson spoke to his father in Romanian, “ The bitch is all in her head. She can’t decide. ”
Adria snapped back in Romanian, “ Watch your tongue, before this bitch teaches you some manners. ”
It was clear her ability to speak the language shocked him, but he recovered quickly, saying in English, “I’d like to see you try.”
She cocked her head to the side, saying, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Callen cleared his throat, and Adria moved her focus to him. A plan formulating in her mind. If Bryson was part of this deal, there might be a way for her to leave with all her hard work intact.
“I can see that we are getting off track. Allow me to counter your original offer,” she said.
Callen leaned back in his chair, enjoying his cigar. “Please.” He gestured for her to continue.
She needed to give him an offer that would leave him no choice but to refuse. Once he refused her counter, they would be able to move on from this mess citing irreconcilable differences, and she could leave this meeting with her land.
And there was one thing that she knew a family head would never part with. “Your son Bryson,” she said.
The cigar dropped from Callen’s mouth. “Excuse me?” he said.
“It’s no secret between the families that he is arrogant, self-centered, hot tempered, and not fit to lead,” Adria said as a loud crack rang out from the center of the table. She had no doubt Bryson was throwing some sort of fit, but her eyes didn’t leave Callen’s.
Her heart raced in her chest. She was playing with fire. It was common knowledge among the families that she was a Dominatrix. Gender wasn’t an issue for her, but she had a propensity for men. To offer Bryson in exchange for the property was a risk. But she had to believe that there was no way Callen wanted it bad enough that he would sell his heir to be her sex slave.
Bryson threw a plate across the room, shattering it on the far wall. Eric moved closer to her, and Callen’s men circled. But Adria continued to focus on Callen. Bryson didn’t scare her.
“Enough!” Callen yelled, and the room fell silent. “Sit!” A chair scraped on the floor, followed by a string of obscenities from Bryson.
Adria and Callen looked at each other as she watched him digest her offer. “You are proposing something ridiculous in order to get out of this contract. It won’t work. The Triune will see right through you,” Callen said.
The Nine had rules. One was to follow Triune’s decrees. As head of the order, the Triune families were the final say in all disputes. Cosa Nostra, Cahill, and the Red Scorpions had been the top three families for nearly a hundred years. The second was inter-family or inner-family violence was not allowed without sanctions.
In prohibition days, there was a lot of family fighting. The Triune put a stop to the mayhem. Nowadays, there were enough outside threats to keep most of them busy. But any tension or friction between families caught the Triune’s attention. Repercussions were swift and effective. And third, sealed family deals were binding.
Callen thought that the Triune would think that her proposal was a blatant attempt to cancel her father’s deal. But Adria felt it was a viable offer. When Luca died and Bryson became next in line, people were worried. The Nine were superstitious, and to them, Bryson wasn’t born to lead. That, paired with his inability to keep his temper under control, meant the Triune would see the logic in her offer.
“Incorrect.” She laced her voice with a false sweetness. “Your son has been a wildcard for a few years. What were once whispers behind closed doors are now full-blown conversations. People are concerned about the balance when he takes over.”
“That’s a lie!” Bryson shouted, apparently itching to prove her point.
“Quiet!” Callen’s voice boomed, and Adria’s skin prickled at the anger in it. Callen acted like a person, but he was not a person. He was a ruthless killer. A monster, and his facade was cracking.
She continued, “It’s possible they might see it as ridiculous, but it’s more possible they will see it as an opportunity.”
“How so?”
“Your boy requires training and discipline to lead. No one blames you. He is clearly a bad apple. Sell him to me. I’ll mold him into someone unrecognizable. Someone fit to lead. You finalize your dusty deal with my father and I gain clout and favor with the Triune. Not to mention the contacts I’ll gain at his auction.”
Anticipation hummed along Adria’s skin. She was close to shutting this deal down.
Bryson tried to stand up, but two of Callen’s men held his shoulders. Before he got himself more worked up, she pushed further, “Providing training and discipline is my area of expertise,” her voice was like velvet, “something I am especially good at.”
Crossing her legs, she lit her own cigar. “Frankly, it would be a waste not to try,” she said.
Adria let the statement hang. What she said was true, she was the best stable trainer in the country. Selling Bryson at auction would bring people from all over the world. Money aside, the contacts she would gain, the power, the wins for her were unmeasurable. And that was why this was a perfect offer. Bryson would never agree to it, no matter how much he wanted this deal, and Callen would never give his son to her, but she had painted it as a plausible counter.
And so, they were at an impasse.
“For how long?” Callen asked. She blinked, not understanding the question. “The stabling, how long?”
“Two years.” She blurted out the standard time frame her and Loretta had created. “One year of training and an additional year of service post sale.”
“Tatal a vorbi aiurea.” Bryson swore in Romanian.
When his father did not respond, he continued, “The Triune will side with you, father, not with this catea.”
She shook her head. He did not know when to quit. Literally demonstrating what she had just admonished him about. She started to say as much, but when she looked at Bryson, something in his face stopped her. He was scared, but not of her. Adria looked over and found Callen’s eyes had gone cold.
The mask coming off. Men didn’t like to lose, and this was especially true for men like Callen. Adria needed to give him something. “Of course, Callen, we can always formally agree to revisit this contract in, say, five years? I would be open to that as well.”
There, now they could both leave the table and save face. She would have time to finalize details with X, and before this meeting was due to reconvene, Adria would have her port and a seat at the table with the Triune. Callen wouldn’t be able to strong arm her then.
She watched Callen snuff his cigar out on the wooden table. His lips twitching, a flicker of something crossing his face before he hid it behind a thin smile. “I agree to your terms.”
Adria’s pulse stopped .
“What?” she and Bryson said in unison.
Callen smiled.
And this time, it reached his eyes.