The Prince of Chicago

Chapter 14

Isabelle

At five minutes to 10 o’clock, Angelo had still not come into my office for our departure to the warehouse. I'd finished his list of tasks fairly quickly, and had really just been killing time until we were to take off.

A lot of that time was spent replaying breakfast in my head. Angelo was sarcastic, and could be quite the jokester; I had learned that over the past few weeks. But like a thin sheet of ice, he always kept a distance present. Even when I felt like I was cracking into his warmer, less guarded center, I’d be met with this seemingly impenetrable wall. It had been frustrating - I constantly felt like I was on the verge of watching him finally c***k, to get my chance to slip in and secure my freedom, only to be met with another chilly layer.

But this morning I saw it. The tiniest little c***k. I didn’t know what caused it; our joking had been fairly run-of-the-mill. But when he held my gaze, and I didn’t shrink back, it happened. I had immediately filed that knowledge away in my head for future use.

While I knew Angelo was dangerous, I also was excited by that danger in a strange way, though I didn’t really want to admit that to myself. I’d decided going forward, I’d need to play into that excitement to help myself muster up the courage I’d need to keep doing things like holding his gaze, or being a bit more brazen in our interactions. If that would be what would finally get him to let me in, I’d need all the confidence and courage I could gather, but I’d do it.

A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts. Looks like it was time to go.

“Come in,” I called. Angelo opened the door and advanced a few paces into the room, now wearing a different suit than the one he had on this morning.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded, moving to power down my computer and stand.

* * *

After a 25-minute ride in a black SUV with excessively tinted windows, we arrived at a building in a not-so-great looking part of the city that more or less looked abandoned. It was two stories, built from dark brick, and covered in graffiti.

“This is your warehouse?” I asked, turning to Angelo. He moved to open the car door and slid out.

“Yes,” he replied, turning back to me and offering a hand to help me out. I took it, shimmying myself so that I could jump down from the seat to the curb. I kept my eyes fixed on his piercing blues while my hand was in his. It was so much bigger than my own. I didn’t smile, but I allowed a warmth to advance over my face in response to his touch, which was a little more instinctual than I cared to acknowledge.

“It looks… abandoned,” I said, feet now on the ground but hand still in his. We were standing shoulder to shoulder on the curb, facing the dilapidated facade of the building before us. A bird chirped out of one of the broken windows on the front.

“There are people who seek to, well, disrupt my businesses, even the legal ones,” he replied as he slowly pulled his hand out from under mine. I looked up at him as he retreated, and was surprised to see he was already looking down at me. “Keeping things more off the grid like this helps keep those disruptions from occurring,” he finished.

Just then, a familiar face came around the side of the bricks. I jumped, on instinct, as I realized it was one of the men from the alley that night at the club. I felt Angelo's hand come to the small of my back, almost like he couldn’t help his comforting reaction to my own, before he quickly moved it up to the back of my shoulder instead.

Cursing my jumpiness, I schooled my face into an even, unbothered expression. I didn’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of my fear.

“Boss, welcome,” the man said, advancing toward Angelo.

“Caleb,” Angelo said, nodding toward him. He removed his hand from the back of my shoulder to shake Caleb’s. He let it fall to his side after.

“I’m not sure if we’ve formally met,” Caleb said, looking in my direction and extending his hand. “I’m Caleb.”

“Isabelle,” I said back coolly, firmly shaking the offered hand. No fear. Angelo’s hand was once again on my shoulder. Caleb turned back to him.

“Things have been smooth since your last visit,” he said. “We’ve got some inventory we’re working on cataloging, and I have a few documents for you to review while you're here.”

* * *

The rest of the morning passed quickly, with a walk around the floor of the warehouse, followed by an hour or so in the office inside as Angelo reviewed inventory documents. He had set me up at a side table reviewing order sheets and actual usage reports for the products at one of his restaurants. Pretty simple stuff, just finding the difference between the amount ordered and the actual amount used, then recommend how much more or less of each item to order for next time. It was the same stuff I’d be doing in the office at the penthouse, so it honestly felt a little silly for me to be here instead. But time away from that place was time away from that place, so I wasn’t complaining.

I finished reviewing the third set of sheets Angelo had given me and walked them back over to the larger desk in the office space where he was seated.

“All done,” I said, filing them back into the folder they had come out of on his desk.

“Great,” he replied, not looking up from the paper in his hands.

“Any more?”

“Give me five and I’ll be done here,” he said. “I want to do one more lap through this place to check on one last thing, then we’ll” – he was cut off by a loud crashing noise coming from the side of the building we couldn’t see from inside the office. It sounded like metal hitting metal.

Angelo looked out the little window that opened the office space up to the main floor of the warehouse, and then to me. Confused, I looked back out the window. Everyone out on the floor that we could see from through the glass had their heads turned to the side that was blocked from our view. A loud voice began echoing through the lofty rafters of the space.

“Salvatore DeLaurentis!” it called. “Where’s my old friend Solly D?” A light bulb went off in my mind at the name, recalling the first night I was in the penthouse, when Angelo revealed his true identity to me. Salvatore was Angelo’s uncle, the man who raised him and the leader of the Outfit. The one who had been grooming Angelo to take over for him one day.

Angelo shot to his feet at the sound of the voice and grabbed both my shoulders, not in a rough way, but firmly so as to communicate the seriousness of the situation.

“Stay here, and sit on the floor so no one can see you through the window,” he said, eyes locked on mine. There was excitement lighting them up, but also a note of concern too. “I’ll send one of my men over here to make sure you’re safe.”

I nodded slowly, trying to comprehend what was going on. Safe? Who did that voice belong to?

As soon as Angelo saw the confirmation of my understanding of his order, he whipped around and quickly made his way through the door of the office. I was left standing there, frozen, with no idea of the level of potential threat this situation posed.

I looked back out through the window to the office and realized that the men outside had now created a formation of sorts, and many of them had produced guns that were trained on the area I couldn't see, toward whatever the commotion was. Angelo was walking briskly but confidently to meet them, turning to see what was beyond my view when he arrived at the center of his men. A chilling smile of recognition crept over his face as he saw the man the voice belonged to.

“Fenton, I don’t believe we were expecting you.”