She Took Her Sister’s Blind Date To Help Her Escape — Then The Mafia Boss Across The Table Revealed He Had Been Waiting For Her Name For Years.

PART 3

“I don’t know yet.”

Marcus Hale, Nikolai’s head of security, approached with a tablet. “Vehicles used tonight belong to a logistics company tied to the Salvato network. The money runs through a South Loop property, bought eighteen months ago.”

He gave the address. Vivienne went still. She knew that building — she’d processed its historical assessment. More importantly, she knew what lay beneath it.

“Preston never left Chicago,” she said.

Nikolai’s attention fixed on her. “Where is he?”

“Under the South Loop.”

Marcus frowned.

“There’s a freight tunnel system beneath that property,” she said. “A section vanished from public records in 1943 after a private deed transfer. It connects to three buildings and an old utility access on Plymouth Court.”

“You think he’s hiding in an abandoned tunnel?”

“No.” She met Nikolai’s eyes. “I think he bought the building because the tunnel was never abandoned.”

For the first time all night, Chicago’s most feared man looked at her — not as a substitute, a complication, a bargaining piece. He looked at her as the only person in the room who knew what came next.

“Show me,” he said.

—

At 11:58 p.m., Vivienne logged into the archive’s remote system from a steel table beneath Nikolai’s restaurant. Marcus worked across from her, tracing shell companies. Nikolai stood at her shoulder, close enough to see the screen, careful not to crowd her.

She noticed him noticing everything back. The thin scar along his jaw. The water instead of wine while he made decisions. The way he listened fully to anyone who offered something useful, regardless of rank. Three of his men had been hurt protecting the building, and he’d asked after each one by name.

His reputation described a monster. The man beside her was still dangerous. But the gap between dangerous and cruel was wider than she’d believed.

“Chicago’s underground freight system started in the early nineteen-hundreds,” she said, drawings filling the screen. “Coal, parcels, merchandise. Kept delivery traffic off the streets.”

“How much survives?”

“More than the public knows. Less than the city admits.”

She found the South Loop survey — a tunnel running northeast beneath four blocks, ending under the building tied to Preston. Then she opened the ownership records.

The registered agent’s name filled the screen.

Delphine Marchetti.

She read it once. Twice. A third time, because she’d learned never to trust the first reading of anything she desperately needed to be wrong.

It didn’t change.

“My sister owns the company that controls the building.”

Nikolai went perfectly still. “When was it formed?”

“Fourteen months ago.”

“Before Preston stole from me.”

“Eleven months before.”

Marcus traced the funding and found a Delaware trust connected to Adrian Salvato, head of Nikolai’s most aggressive rival organization within minutes. The debt had been staged. The marriage designed to give Delphine access to Nikolai’s financial network. The attack meant to gut his security, steal his files, and leave Preston and Delphine protected by the Salvatos.

Vivienne remembered her sister’s calm voice. *Forty minutes. An hour.*

“She used me as a distraction,” she said.

Nikolai looked at her. No pity in his face. She was grateful for that.

“She chose you because she knew you’d come,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Not because you were weak.”

“No. Because I was reliable.”

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

“They can be, when the wrong person profits from it.”

For a moment neither spoke. Then Marcus turned his tablet around. “The Salvato people think tonight’s attack succeeded. Their communications say they’re waiting on confirmation before moving Preston.”

“That’s a window,” Vivienne said.

Nikolai studied the tunnel map. “Can we get in without using the building?”

“There’s an access panel on Plymouth Court. The barrier’s meant to keep out utility workers, not determined criminals.”

Marcus almost smiled. “I can work with that.”

Nikolai assembled a small team — no unnecessary weapons, Preston taken alive, records preserved. Then he looked at Vivienne.

“You’ve given us what we need. A car can take you somewhere safe.”

“You don’t believe that.”