Chapter 6
The morning sun filtered through the massive windows of the mansion, matching the bright, airy colors of the previous evening. The estate was buzzing with a quiet, lethal efficiency. The engagement was broken, and the entire security apparatus of the Lockwood syndicate had been placed on high alert.
Sage stood in the grand foyer, holding a small, worn overnight bag. She had changed out of her sophisticated black maid dress into a modest, dark navy mourning dress. Her hair was still pinned into a soft braided updo, her fair skin looking slightly pale in the morning light. In her hands, she carefully held a small, pristine white box containing the fragmented remains of her mother's wedding veil.
The heavy front doors opened, and Tristan stepped into the foyer. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, a dark overcoat resting over his powerful shoulders. The morning light caught the high-bridged angles of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw. He looked incredibly imposing, a king preparing his fortress for war.
"Are you ready to depart, Sage?" Tristan asked, his polished leather shoes echoing on the marble floor.
"Yes, Mr. Lockwood," Sage answered. "Thank you again for the transportation. I really appreciate it."
"Did you think I was merely sending a car?" Tristan asked.
Sage blinked, her expressive brows furrowing in confusion. She looked past him through the open doors. Sitting in the circular driveway was a massive, heavily armored black SUV. Standing around it were four heavily armed security operatives in dark suits.
"I don't understand," Sage said softly.
"Is it safe for you to travel unprotected when Cordelia’s family is currently seeking retaliation against me?" Tristan asked, moving to stand beside her.
"But why would they target me?" Sage asked, genuine fear creeping into her voice. "I am just a housemaid."
"Did you not inadvertently cause the severing of a multi-million-dollar syndicate alliance?" Tristan asked, his perceptive eyes holding hers. "Do you think Arthur Ames is a man who forgives a slight against his daughter?"
Sage’s grip tightened on the handle of her overnight bag. The reality of the mafia world was crashing down on her. She had lived on the periphery of this violence, cleaning its aftermath, but now she was squarely in the center of the crosshairs.
"Are you frightened?" Tristan asked, his deep voice lowering to a gentle, comforting rumble.
"A little," Sage admitted, her rosy cheeks flushing.
"Will you trust me to keep you safe?" Tristan asked. He reached out, his tattooed hand gently taking her overnight bag from her grip.
"I trust you," Sage whispered, looking up into his incredibly handsome, masculine face.
"Shall we go, then?" Tristan asked.
He placed a hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her out of the mansion and into the bright morning air. The security operatives immediately formed a protective perimeter around them as they approached the armored SUV. One of the men opened the rear door.
Sage climbed inside, expecting the doors to close behind her so she could begin the long journey alone with the driver. Instead, Tristan climbed in and sat directly beside her on the plush leather seat. The door slammed shut, sealing them in the quiet, secure cabin.
"Mr. Lockwood?" Sage asked, her eyes wide with shock. "You are coming with me?"
"Do you think I would let you face the burial of your mother without support?" Tristan asked, adjusting his dark overcoat as the heavily armored vehicle began to roll down the long, winding driveway.
"But the syndicate," Sage protested weakly. "The war with Cordelia's family. You need to be here to lead your men."
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"Is any war more important than honoring the dead?" Tristan asked, looking out the tinted window as the mansion faded from view.
Sage sat back against the leather seat, profoundly moved. The most dangerous man in the state was leaving his fortress on the eve of a mafia war, simply to attend a housemaid's funeral.
