Chapter 4 - An Invitation To The Wingback Chair
With Julian gone, the tension in the private dining room shifted rather than dissipated.
Maya calmly walked over to the table where she had placed her silver serving tray, picking up the slightly spilled glass.
She pulled a linen napkin from her emerald apron pocket and began wiping the marble surface with deliberate, practiced movements.
“Leave the glass, Miss,” Marcus called out from his leather chair.
Maya paused, holding the napkin in her right hand, before looking up into the eyes of Chicago’s most dangerous underworld operator.
“Mr. Callahan, restaurant policy requires that all spills be cleared immediately,” Maya said politely.
Marcus let out a deep, rumbling laugh that ended in a quiet cough as he held his cigar between two fingers.
“To hell with restaurant policy,” Marcus said, gesturing to the empty leather armchair across from his own. “Sit down.”
The second bodyguard took a subtle step to block the main exit, his hand resting casually near his jacket lining.
Maya did not show panic; she simply folded her linen napkin neatly, placed it back on her tray, and set the tray on a nearby side table.
She walked across the polished white floor with measured, steady steps, her black low heels clicking in a rhythmic cadence.
She sat on the edge of the dark leather wingback chair, keeping her spine straight and her hands folded in her lap.
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“You move like someone who’s had specialized tactical training,” Marcus observed, taking another slow drag from his cigar.
“I took self-defense classes in college, Mr. Callahan,” Maya lied smoothly. “Working late nights in the Loop teaches a woman to protect herself.”
