Chapter 8
Victor stood up, gently guiding Cora back toward her bed. "It is late, sweetheart. You need to sleep so Santa can visit. Violet will stay with you until you fall asleep, and I have guards right outside the door."
Once Cora was tucked securely under her heavy quilts, her eyes drooping with exhaustion, Victor gestured for Violet to follow him toward the door. They stepped out into the bright, luminous hallway, the heavy door clicking softly shut behind them.
The natural, cinematic lighting of the corridor highlighted the exhaustion in Violet's delicate features. She kept her head slightly bowed, maintaining the submissive posture expected of a maid, but Victor stepped into her line of sight, forcing her to look up.
"Why did you do it, Violet?" Victor asked, his voice a low, controlled murmur. "You knew Juliette would demand your execution. You knew the risk."
Violet met his gaze, her expressive eyes shining with unshed tears. "Because I know what it feels like to have someone you love taken away, Mr. Harrington. When Mrs. Bennett told me what happened... I couldn't just serve champagne and pretend I didn't know."
Victor studied her face, the fair, rosy skin and the stark contrast of her black dress. He admired her immensely. In a world full of hardened killers and corrupt politicians, this young woman possessed more integrity than the entire syndicate combined.
"You saved my daughter from growing up with a monster as a mother," Victor said slowly. "I owe you a debt I can never fully repay."
"You don't owe me anything, sir," Violet whispered, her breath hitching slightly under his intense scrutiny.
"I owe you everything," Victor corrected, taking a slow step closer. He reached out with his hand, the artistic negative space tattoos stark against the crisp white collar of her maid uniform. He didn't touch her, but his hand hovered protectively near her shoulder. "You are no longer a maid in this house, Violet. From this moment on, you are under my direct, personal protection. Whatever you need, whatever you want, you have it."
Violet’s eyes widened in shock. "Sir, I... I don't know what to say."
"Say you will help me," Victor said, his tone shifting abruptly back to the calculated focus of a mafia boss.
"Help you?"
"Juliette refuses to give up the name of the couple she sold the child to," Victor explained, his jaw tightening. "But she must have left a paper trail. A wire transfer, a meeting location, a burner phone. I am going to tear her suite apart. I need someone who knows how she organizes her personal belongings, someone who can spot what is out of place."
Violet nodded instantly, her graceful posture straightening with renewed purpose. "I clean her suite every morning. I know where she keeps her locked boxes and her private journals."
May you like
"Good," Victor said, his eyes flashing with dangerous intent. "Then let us go hunting."
They walked together down the luminous corridor, the towering mafia boss in his tailored suit and the gentle maid in her black dress, forging an unlikely, formidable alliance in the dead of the night.
