Chapter 479
Chapter 479:
Château Margaux 1787. Domaine de la Romanée-Conti 1945. Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992. Millions of dollars sitting on a shelf.
Skye reached out. Her hand was shaking from the cold, but her grip was firm. She pulled the 1945 Romanée-Conti from the rack—a bottle worth half a million dollars.
She walked to the center of the room, directly under the camera.
She looked up into the lens. She raised the bottle.
And she hurled it against the reinforced glass door.
CRASH.
The sound was explosive in the small space. Dark red liquid sprayed across the glass wall and splattered on the floor, looking disturbingly like arterial blood. The smell of priceless, aged Pinot Noir filled the air.
Skye didn’t stop.
She grabbed the Château Margaux.
Smash.
Glass flew. Wine pooled around her feet, staining the hem of her black dress crimson. She was careful to stand back, avoiding the jagged shards, but she made sure the destruction was visible.
Outside in the corridor, Marcus was doing rounds. He saw the carnage on the monitors. He grabbed his radio.
“Boss! You need to come down here. Now! She’s destroying the collection p>
Skye picked up a third bottle—a 1992 Screaming Eagle. She held it poised, staring at the camera, daring him.
The electronic lock on the door beeped frantically. The heavy glass door swung open.
Lucian stormed in. He wasn’t composed this time. His face was twisted in genuine, ugly rage.
“Stop!” he roared.
He lunged at her, grabbing her wrist just as she was about to throw the bottle.
“Do you have any idea what that is?” he hissed, shaking her arm. “That bottle is worth more than your life p>
Skye looked at him. She was shivering violently now, her teeth chattering, standing amid a sea of broken glass and red puddles.
“I was… c-cold,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I needed… to warm up p>
R𝘦𝘢𝖽 𝗼n аn𝘺 𝘥e𝗏𝗶c𝗲 о𝗻 b𝖾𝗹ո𝘰𝘷e𝗅𝗌.𝘤𝘰m
Lucian raised his hand to strike her.
Skye didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, exposing her neck.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Kill me. And lose your only leverage against Alistair p>
Lucian’s hand froze midair. His chest heaved. He looked at the ruined wine, then at the bottle still in her hand.
He snatched the bottle from her and set it down on the table with a slam.
“You are testing my patience, Skye p>
“I’m not testing you,” Skye said, stepping back. “I’m offering you a deal p>
Lucian laughed, incredulous. “A deal? You are a prisoner in a glass box p>
“Alistair is smart,” Skye said, her voice gaining strength despite the cold. “He won’t come for a prisoner in a basement. He knows it’s a trap. He’ll wait. He’ll besiege you p>
She took a step closer to him. “He needs to see me. In the open. He needs to believe I’m vulnerable p>
Lucian narrowed his eyes. “Go on p>
“Take me to the casino,” Skye said. “Put me on the floor. Make me the bait. Let him see me dealing cards or spinning a wheel. If he sees me out there, exposed, his instinct to protect will override his tactical sense. He’ll come for me p>
Lucian studied her. He looked for the lie. He looked for the fear.