Chapter 6
The threat hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Vivienne looked at the stack of papers, her mind racing desperately for an exit strategy. Her entire identity, her self-worth, her very existence, was inextricably linked to her wealth. The thought of walking out of this hotel with nothing but the wet crimson gown on her back was a psychological torture she could not endure.
"There has to be a compromise," Vivienne said, her tone shifting from arrogant defiance to desperate negotiation. She leaned against the table, trying to project a seductive confidence she no longer felt. "You want your money back, fine. I can liquidate the offshore accounts. I can give you fifty million by Friday. We can be partners, Mr. Stallone. I have political connections you can't even dream of."
Stallone watched her, his expression unreadable. "Partners."
"Yes," she pressed, encouraged by his silence. "You have the muscle, I have the social capital. Together, we could control this entire seaboard. Why destroy an asset like me when you can use me?"
Arthur let out a soft, polite cough, adjusting his glasses. "Ms. Cross, I do not believe you fully grasp the severity of the situation."
"Shut up, Arthur," Vivienne snapped, before turning her pleading eyes back to Stallone. "Fifty million. Tax-free. And I keep the real estate and my name. That is more than a fair return on my grandmother's... indiscretions."
Stallone walked slowly to the massive windows, looking down at the glittering city below. The cars looked like tiny, moving jewels.
"Do you know where I have been for the last ten years, Vivienne?" Stallone asked, his voice low and reflective. "I have been in a hole in the ground in South America, surviving on dirty water and vengeance. I watched my syndicate crumble. I watched my family get hunted. And all the while, I watched your grandmother smile on the covers of magazines, spending the money she stole from my children."
He turned back around, the ambient city light casting deep, menacing shadows across his rugged face.
"I don't want fifty million," Stallone stated quietly. "I want it all. Every penny, every brick, every diamond. I want to see you scrubbing floors to pay for your next meal. I want to completely erase the Cross legacy from the face of the earth."
Vivienne felt a tear slip down her cheek, burning against the bruised skin. "Please. I didn't know. I swear to you, I didn't know what she did."
"Ignorance is not innocence," Stallone replied. "You reaped the rewards of her betrayal. You drank the champagne. You wore the silk. Now, you pay the check."
"I won't do it!" she shrieked, backing away from the table. "You are going to have to break my hands to get me to sign those papers!"
Stallone didn't move. He simply nodded slightly toward the heavy oak doors of the penthouse.
May you like
"As you wish," Stallone said calmly.
The doors opened, and two massive, heavily scarred men dragged a battered, bleeding figure into the room, throwing him violently onto the expensive Persian rug. Vivienne screamed. It was Marcus, her personal, highly-trained bodyguard—the man who was supposed to be waiting in the lobby to protect her.
