Chapter 43 Lords Of Chicago

Mason adjusted his silk tie in the mirror, studying the reflection like a general inspecting troops. The hand-tailored Brioni suit - charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes - draped his frame like liquid money. A blood-red pocket square added the perfect dash of menace. "Looking sharp, boss." Eve lounged in the doorway of his private suite, already dressed to kill in a black Versace number that hugged curves like a second skin. "Though I still say you're making a mistake leaving me behind."