Chapter 9
Within ninety seconds, the massive, opulent room was entirely empty of guests. The only people remaining in the dining hall were Bastian, Lila, Eleanor, Colette, and a dozen heavily armed, white American security guards standing quietly in the shadows near the carved marble fireplace.
"What are you going to do to me?" Colette whispered, genuine fear replacing her arrogance as she stared at the men holding her arms.
"Will my men escort you to the lower levels, or will you walk there yourself to await my judgment?" Bastian asked softly, gesturing with a heavily tattooed hand toward the armed guards.
Colette let out a ragged, humiliated sob as the guards began to drag her toward the heavy double doors. Her furious, terrified screams echoed through the bright, airy room, fading only when the doors slammed shut, plunging the dining hall back into a profound, ringing silence.
Bastian slowly released his mother from the embrace, keeping one large hand securely on her shoulder. The cold, terrifying edge of the Mafia boss softened considerably as he looked down at the elderly woman.
"Are you safe now, Mother?" Bastian asked, his deep voice returning to a warm, comforting rumble.
"I am, Bastian. Thank you," Eleanor whispered, a tear of profound relief spilling over her lined, rosy cheek. "I am so sorry for making a mess of your dinner."
"Did you ever believe a plate of food was worth more to me than your presence?" Bastian asked softly, reaching out to gently untie the stained work apron from around her waist. He let the dirty fabric fall to the marble floor, a symbolic rejection of the humiliation she had endured.
Bastian then turned his perceptive gaze toward the housemaid who had risked everything to protect his mother. Lila stood quietly in her sophisticated black maid dress, her hands neatly folded over her white apron. Her softly tapered face was pale from the adrenaline, but her expressive brows were relaxed.
"Do you understand the magnitude of the debt I owe you tonight, Lila?" Bastian asked, looking deeply into her delicate features.
Lila’s fair, rosy cheeks flushed a delicate pink under his intense, perceptive gaze. "I only did what was right, sir. I couldn't let her suffer in the kitchen anymore."
"Is bravery not the rarest commodity in our world?" Bastian questioned, bowing his head slightly in a profound gesture of respect. "Will you assist my mother to her suite, Lila? Will you stay with her until I return?"
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"I won't leave her side, Mr. Ravenshaw," Lila promised, reaching out to gently take Eleanor's arm.
Bastian watched them walk toward the heavy double doors leading to the residential wing. His angular face, usually a mask of impenetrable authority, softened with a rare, genuine gratitude. A young woman in a maid's uniform had demonstrated a courage that surpassed his fiercest soldiers.
