Chapter 6 - The Viper's Nest
It took Harper exactly three days to realize that Blackwood Enterprises was a terrifyingly efficient machine. The legitimate front—real estate, shipping, and luxury hotels—was incredibly profitable. But underneath the pristine balance sheets, she could see the shadow money. The silent transfers. The shell corporations.
She was drowning in numbers when the private elevator chimed.
A man stepped out, flanked by two heavily armed guards. He was older than Damian, with silver hair and cold, reptilian eyes. He wore a white suit that practically screamed old money and fresh blood.
“Well, well,” the man purred, approaching Harper’s desk. “Damian has a new guard dog. And a pretty one, at that. I am Alexei Volkov.”
Harper recognized the name immediately. Volkov was the head of the Russian syndicate that controlled the northern boroughs. A ruthless rival who was currently engaged in a fragile, tense truce with Damian.
“Mr. Blackwood is in a meeting,” Harper said coldly, keeping her hands on her keyboard. “Do you have an appointment?”
Alexei laughed, a dry, rasping sound. “I don't make appointments, sweetheart. Tell him Volkov is here.”
“He is unavailable,” Harper repeated, standing up to meet his gaze. Despite her bad knee, she stood tall. “You can wait in the lobby, or you can leave.”
Alexei’s smile vanished. He stepped forward, slamming his hand onto her desk. “Listen to me, little girl—”
The heavy oak doors to Damian’s office swung open violently.
Damian stood in the doorway, his eyes burning with a murderous rage. “Step away from my desk, Alexei,” he commanded softly.
Alexei raised his hands in mock surrender, backing away from Harper. “Just introducing myself to the new help, Damian. She has a sharp tongue.”
“She has my authority,” Damian corrected, walking forward until he was positioned firmly between Harper and the Russian mobster. “Which means disrespecting her is disrespecting me. And you know how I respond to disrespect.”
The air in the room grew suffocatingly dense. Alexei stared at Damian for a long moment before adjusting his cuffs. “We have business to discuss, Blackwood. The docks.”
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“In my office,” Damian snapped. He glanced over his shoulder at Harper, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. “Hold my calls, Harper.”
As the doors closed, Harper realized two things. First, the underworld was watching her. Second, Damian Blackwood was fiercely, terrifyingly protective of her.
