Chapter 10
Hollie’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 fine lines framing his perceptive eyes, revealing a depth of character she had never fully appreciated.
"What kind of change, Mr. Calder?" Hollie asked, her heart racing.
"Would you prefer to assume the role of Maisie’s personal governess, answering to no one in this house but me?" Ambrose asked.
Hollie stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the offer. A personal 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 family.
"Are you serious, sir?" Hollie asked, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking across her fair, rosy face.
"Have I ever joked about the welfare of my daughter?" Ambrose asked, stopping just inches from her.
"I would be honored," Hollie whispered.
"Will you trust me to keep you safe when the war begins tomorrow?" Ambrose asked, his voice a low, gravelly promise.
"Always," Hollie replied without hesitation.
Ambrose 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?" Ambrose asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his jacket.
"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Sloan syndicate didn't wait! They are at the gates right now!"
Ambrose looked back at Hollie, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
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"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Ambrose asked the quiet room.
He racked the slide of his handgun with a sharp, metallic clatter as the estate's high-pitched security sirens began to wail. The war had officially arrived at their doorstep.
