Chapter 8 - The Safe Haven
Callum drove for forty minutes, leaving the city grid behind and heading North toward a private estate tucked deep in the wooded hills of Lake Forest.
The estate was surrounded by high concrete walls, guarded by heavily armed men in dark suits who recognized Callum’s car instantly, opening the iron gates without delay.
The car pulled up to a massive stone manor overlooking the dark expanse of Lake Michigan.
“This is my private residence,” Callum said, turning off the engine. “No one knows about this place except my inner council. You’ll be safe here.”
They walked inside. The manor was quiet, warm, and decorated with exquisite art that Sadie recognized as priceless museum-grade pieces.
Callum led her straight to a grand master suite on the second floor, complete with a roaring fireplace, a king-sized bed, and a terrace overlooking the dark water below.
Sadie sank into an armchair beside the fire, her body completely spent from the adrenaline crash.
Callum stepped out onto the terrace for five minutes to make a series of phone calls. When he returned, he took off his jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and sat on the ottoman directly in front of her.
He reached out, taking her hands in his. They were still cold and trembling slightly.
“The offshore transfer is complete,” Callum announced softly. “Forty-two million dollars was drained from the Moretti accounts twenty minutes ago. Their syndicate is broke. By morning, their mercenaries will turn on them.”
Sadie looked down at their joined hands, feeling the heat of his skin.
“Is it over?” she whispered.
“Almost,” Callum replied, his thumb gently tracing the smooth skin of her wrist, right over the dark purplish bruise left by the attacker from the train platform. His touch was so light, so protective, that it made her throat tighten with emotion. “The men who hurt you are being rounded up as we speak. They will never touch you again.”
Sadie looked up into his eyes, seeing the dark, dangerous storm that still burned beneath his calm exterior.
“Why did you do all of this, Callum?” Sadie asked softly. “You could have taken the codes and left me at the brownstone. You risked your life for an appraiser.”
Callum’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his fingers tightening gently around hers.
“You’re not just an appraiser to me, Sadie,” Callum said, his deep voice carrying a weight that made the room grow silent. “You haven't been just an appraiser since the first day you walked into my office six months ago and told me my Rembrandt was a fake.”
May you like
Sadie let out a tiny, soft laugh. “It was a fake.”
“I know,” Callum whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips. “And you were the only person in this corrupt city who had the guts to tell me the truth.”
