Chapter 10
Clara held the crystal glass tightly, the amber liquid catching the soft light of the desk lamp. She looked up at the movie-star handsome face of the mafia boss, knowing the sheer magnitude of the danger they were now facing.
"I know her father is a very powerful man," Clara admitted, taking a small sip of the liquor to soothe her dry throat. "Victor Price won't accept a broken engagement peacefully."
"Do you believe I fear the wrath of a man who raised a monster?" Hugo asked, his eyes darkening with lethal intent.
"No, sir," Clara replied softly. "I think you are going to destroy him."
Hugo set his own glass down on the desk. He stood to his full height, his powerful, masculine shoulders squared. The war with the Price syndicate was no longer a possibility; it was an absolute certainty. The streets would run red before the weekend was over.
"Will you accept a change in your employment, Clara?" Hugo asked suddenly, shifting the topic with whiplash speed.
Clara blinked, her expressive brows furrowing in confusion. "A change, sir?"
"Do you believe your talents are best utilized dusting mirrors and serving dinner?" Hugo asked, taking a slow step toward her.
Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. The imposing frame of the mafia boss filled her vision as he stepped closer. The warm golden light of the study caught the extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble on his jawline.
"What kind of change, Mr. Caldwell?" Clara asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Would you prefer to assume the role of Benjamin’s personal governess, answering to no one in this house but me?" Hugo asked.
Clara stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the offer. A governess was a position of high respect and immense trust, offering security that far exceeded her role as a housemaid. It meant she would no longer be invisible; she would be a central figure in the life of the mafia boss's only son.
"Are you serious, sir?" Clara asked, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking across her fair, rosy face.
"Have I ever joked about the welfare of my child?" Hugo asked, stopping just inches from her.
"I would be honored," Clara whispered.
"Will you trust me to keep you both safe when the war begins tomorrow?" Hugo asked, his voice a low, gravelly promise.
"Always," Clara replied without hesitation.
Hugo raised his tattooed hand, his knuckles gently brushing against the soft curve of her jawline. It was a fleeting, electric touch that promised a future far more complicated than employer and employee.
Before either could speak again, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open. A bloodied security operative stumbled into the room, gasping for breath.
"Is the perimeter breached?" Hugo asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his jacket.
"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Price syndicate didn't wait! They are at the gates right now!"
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Hugo looked back at Clara, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Hugo asked the quiet room, racking the slide of his handgun as the sirens began to wail. The war had officially arrived at their doorstep.
