Chapter 4
Norah’s pulse continued hammering beneath Dominic’s palm.
She did not move.
Her body felt separated from the rational part of her mind.
He was not hurting her.
He merely held her in place while his eyes catalogued every flicker of fear and confusion.
Norah understood valuation.
Buildings depreciated.
Markets fluctuated.
Human beings were unpredictable liabilities.
Yet Dominic looked at her as if she were something flawless pulled from the earth.
“I’m not currency.”
Her voice was almost inaudible.
“I’m a person.”
His thumb brushed her cheekbone.
“In my world, those things are difficult to separate.”
Then he let her go.
Dominic immediately became the cold executive again.
“Sleep.”
He picked up his drink.
“Victor brings breakfast at 8:00. At 9:00, you start on my ledgers.”
He walked toward the door.
“If you need anything, use the landline and dial 0.”
At the threshold, he looked back.
“Lock the door behind me.”
Then he left.
Norah stared at the closed door.
After 1 minute, her legs gave way.
She sat on the edge of the enormous bed and gripped the duvet.
She was imprisoned inside a mafia boss’s fortress.
She was wearing his clothes.
And tomorrow she was expected to search his financial empire for stolen money.
Norah turned the deadbolt.
The lock struck loudly.
She crawled beneath the covers.
She expected anxiety to keep her awake.
Instead, exhaustion took her immediately.
Morning brought harsh gray light.
Rain still covered the forest outside in shining water.
A soft knock came at 8:00.
“Miss Miller.”
Victor’s voice came through the door.
Norah got out of bed and unlocked it.
Victor stood holding a silver tray.
Black coffee.
2 scrambled eggs.
Dry toast.
He handed it to her without trying to look inside.
“Mr. Gallow arranged clothing for you in the adjoining dressing room.”
Victor remained formal.
“When you’re ready, Gideon will take you to the study.”
“Who is Gideon?”
“The man at the end of the corridor.”
Victor nodded and walked away.
Norah glanced into the hall.
Approximately 50 ft away stood an enormous man in a tailored suit.
He faced neither toward nor away from her.
But Norah knew he noticed everything.
She shut the door.
She ate without tasting much.
Then she entered the dressing room.
Dominic had stocked it.
Not with revealing dresses or lingerie.
With armor.
White blouses.
High-waisted wool trousers.
Charcoal.
Navy.
Cashmere sweaters.
Practical leather shoes.
Clothing designed for a senior financial professional.
Dominic had not dressed an imagined version of her.
He had recognized the person she already was.
Norah selected a navy turtleneck and dark gray trousers.
Everything fit.
That frightened her more than excess would have.
When she entered the hallway, Gideon followed.
No conversation.
He escorted her downstairs, through the modern rooms, and along a windowless corridor.
At the end stood a steel door.
Gideon swiped a key card.
“He’s expecting you.”
Norah entered.
It was not a study.
It was a war room.
4 large monitors displayed global markets.
A long mahogany table was covered with physical files.
A nervous man in a rumpled suit stood at the far end holding a tablet.
Dominic was near the window.
His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
Muscle and old scars marked his forearms.
He turned.
His gaze moved over Norah’s clothes.
Dark satisfaction appeared briefly.
“Norah.”
He gestured toward the nervous man.
“This is Benson.”
Benson swallowed.
“He manages legitimate holdings. Real estate, shipping, logistics.”
Dominic looked at him.
“He will give you complete access to the servers.”
“Mr. Gallow.”
Benson adjusted his glasses.
“With respect, giving an outsider root access to aggregated ledgers is highly irregular.”
“Frank’s severed thumb is currently in a cooler in my trunk, Benson.”
Dominic sounded almost bored.
“Do not lecture me about irregularity.”
Benson went pale.
“Give her access.”
He pushed a sleek black laptop toward Norah.
She ignored his expression and looked at Dominic.
He was handing her the keys to his organization.
A test.
He wanted to know whether the data would overwhelm her.
Norah sat.
She opened the laptop.
A master decryption key prompt appeared.
Benson entered the code with trembling hands.
“Leave.”
Dominic spoke once.
Benson practically fled.
The steel door closed.
Norah and Dominic remained among humming electronics.
“Where do I begin?”
“The ports.”
Dominic moved behind her.
“Frank’s theft was pocket change.”
His voice lowered.
“My instinct says the real loss is inside shipping.”
Norah opened the 1st file.
Thousands of rows appeared.
Container weights.
Dates.
Customs fees.
Transfers.
To most people, chaos.
To Norah, language.
Dominic leaned over her shoulder.
Bergamot surrounded her.
She ignored the physical reaction and focused.
“Give me 3 hours.”
3 became 6.
The war room remained almost completely silent except for Norah’s mouse and the ventilation.
Dominic left after the 1st hour when an encrypted phone call pulled him away.
Norah went deeper.
She bypassed Benson’s sanitized summaries.
She opened raw transaction logs from Atlas Logistics.
She cross-referenced customs fees with container weights and trucking fuel consumption.
At first, the discrepancy appeared minor.
A digit.
A rounding variation.
But numbers rarely repeated the same mistake accidentally.
Norah isolated 18 months of records.
The pattern became obvious.
Atlas paid customs duty on containers listed at 10 tons.
But the trucks transporting those exact containers consumed fuel consistent with loads closer to 20 tons.
10 tons of ghost weight.
Every container.
Twice each month.
No 1 was stealing from Dominic.
Someone was smuggling cargo into his system.
Using his legal infrastructure.
His clean documentation.
If federal agents opened those containers, Dominic’s name sat on the bills of lading.
The operation was not theft.
It was a frame.
Cold sweat formed along Norah’s neck.
Frank could not have done this.
The scheme required senior access.
Someone who knew the internal routes of Dominic’s fleet.
Norah stood so quickly that the chair struck the wall.
She took the laptop to the steel door.
Locked.
She hit the metal.
The door opened immediately.
Gideon filled the entrance.
“I need Dominic.”
Norah’s voice was steady despite her heartbeat.
“Now.”
Gideon looked at the laptop.
Then turned.
Norah followed him through the estate.
They entered a glass conservatory.
Humidity surrounded her.
Wet soil.
Orchids.
Dominic stood at the far end with 3 men wearing leather jackets and worn boots.
He spoke to them rapidly in Italian.
The conversation was tense.
Norah walked directly toward them.
The 3 men turned.
Their hands moved toward their waists.
Gideon stepped slightly in front of her.
Dominic raised 1 hand.
Everyone stopped.
He saw Norah’s face.
Then dismissed the men with a few sharp words.
They left.
May you like
Gideon remained at the entrance.
“What did you find?”
