Chapter 4 - The Fortress on the Hudson
By 2:00 AM, the rain over Manhattan had tapered into a cold, dense mist that hung low over the Hudson River.
The Sovereign was not a pleasure vessel; it was an eighty-meter, ice-class expedition yacht clad in dark-gray radar-absorbent steel, customized with private surgical suites, satellite command arrays, and ballistic bulkheads.
I lay in the master cabin beneath down quilts, wearing a clean, soft cashmere sweater and linen trousers. My shorn hair was covered by a warm silk turban Dr. Lin had provided, but the shame that Vivienne had intended to brand into my flesh had evaporated entirely.
Sitting in a leather armchair beside my bed was Roman.
He had changed into a tailored charcoal three-piece suit, his overcoat hanging from the wardrobe door, his custom Kimber .45 resting in its leather shoulder holster beneath his arm.
He held a porcelain mug of chamomile tea, gently blowing across the surface before handing it to me.
"Drink, my love," he murmured.
I took the mug, feeling the soothing warmth soak into my palms.
"Roman," I said softly, looking at his dark silhouette against the cabin window. "When you walk into that boardroom at dawn... Julian won't be alone. If Antonio Valenti brought his capos to New York, they will have thirty armed men inside that warehouse."
Roman walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my cheek.
"They could bring three hundred men, Bianca," Roman whispered, his baritone vibrating with sovereign certainty. "They do not have what I have."
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"What do you have?"
"A reason to burn the world down to the water," he said, leaning down to press his lips against mine in a slow, sacred kiss. "Sleep, Bianca. When you wake up, our daughter's future will be clean."
