Chapter 10
Maren held the crystal glass with both hands, the amber liquid catching the soft light of the desk lamp. She looked at Atticus, the formidable mafia boss standing just a few feet away, and knew she could not hide anything from him. The safety of the household depended on absolute honesty.
"Since the week she moved in," Maren admitted, her voice steady. "She would smile when you were in the room, but the moment you left, she would order Evan to the kitchens or his bedroom. She told him that little boys should be neither seen nor heard by people of importance."
Atticus’s eyes darkened, the cold fury returning to his gaze. "Did you ever hear her speak of Julian Vance before tonight?"
"Not by name," Maren replied, taking a small sip of the liquor to soothe her dry throat. "But she took many private phone calls in the conservatory. She would lock the doors. She always sounded frantic, like she was arguing with someone who was demanding things from her."
"Do you suppose she was feeding Julian information about my operations while attempting to pass his bastard off as my heir?" Atticus asked, the lethal calculus of the betrayal fully forming in his mind.
"It seems likely, sir," Maren agreed softly.
Atticus set his glass down on the desk. He stood to his full height, his powerful shoulders squared. The war with the Vance syndicate was no longer a possibility; it was an absolute certainty. Julian had tried to plant a cuckoo in the nest, an insult that demanded payment in blood.
"Will you accept a change in your employment, Maren?" Atticus asked suddenly, shifting the topic with whiplash speed.
Maren blinked, her expressive brows furrowing in confusion. "A change, sir?"
"Do you believe your talents are best utilized dusting mirrors and serving dinner?" Atticus asked, taking a slow step toward her. "Or would you prefer to assume the role of Evan’s personal governess, answering to no one in this house but me?"
Maren’s heart soared. It was a massive promotion, a position of profound trust and respect that would keep her close to the boy she loved and elevate her far above the status of a common maid.
"Are you serious, Mr. Rowan?" Maren asked, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking across her fair, rosy face.
"Have I ever joked about the welfare of my son?" Atticus asked, stopping just inches from her.
Maren looked up into his handsome, masculine face. The sheer intensity of his gaze made her breath catch. There was a magnetic, undeniable pull between them, a spark ignited in the fires of the evening's chaos.
"I would be honored," Maren whispered.
"Will you trust me to keep you both safe when the war begins tomorrow?" Atticus asked, his voice a low, gravelly promise.
"Always," Maren replied without hesitation.
May you like
Atticus 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.
"Should I prepare my men for battle, then?" Atticus asked the quiet room, his eyes never leaving hers as the shadow of the coming conflict fell over the luminous estate.
