Chapter 9
The transition from the opulent, massive dining hall to the quiet, secure residential wing of the mansion was a journey through changing light. The bright, airy luminosity of the lower floors gave way to a softer, more intimate golden warmth in the private corridors. Ivory-paneled walls lined with classical art passed in a blur as Daphne walked beside the towering Mafia boss.
Once inside the expansive, mahogany-paneled study, Daphne moved with elegant, polished efficiency. She laid the security dossiers out on the massive oak desk. The room was unusually quiet, the emotional toll of the evening finally catching up to her.
The heavy oak door of the study clicked shut softly.
Holden stepped into the room, his towering frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. He had removed his suit jacket, his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing more of the refined artistic tattoos on his forearms. He walked quietly over to the desk, looking down at the documents with a profound, aching intensity.
"Do you believe she is truly dead, Daphne?" Holden asked softly, his deep voice a mere whisper, breaking his own rule of exclusive questioning with a statement of raw vulnerability.
Daphne looked up, her expressive brows drawing together in empathy. "I don't know, Mr. Ravenshaw. If the coffin was empty, there is always hope."
Holden looked at the beautiful housemaid, the golden light catching the delicate contours of her face. "Did you fear for your life when you brought Walter into that dining hall?"
"Yes, Mr. Ravenshaw," Daphne assured him, her voice steady.
"Are you aware of the danger you placed yourself in tonight, Daphne?" Holden finally asked, his eyes locking onto hers.
Daphne looked up into his cold, observant eyes, refusing to shrink back. "I am, sir. But I couldn't let her continue to build a life on a grave she emptied."
"Does it surprise you to learn that loyalty is the rarest commodity in my world?" Holden inquired, taking a slow, deliberate step closer to her.
Daphne’s heart fluttered against her ribs. The sheer, deeply masculine power he projected was overwhelming, yet she felt entirely safe in his presence. "I didn't do it for a reward, sir. I did it because it was right."
"Will you accept a new position in this household?" Holden asked, his tone shifting into a formal, absolute decree. "Will you act as the head of my personal intelligence staff, answering to absolutely no one but me, with a salary that ensures you never have to wear a maid's uniform again?"
Daphne’s eyes widened. It was a massive promotion, a shield of protection that would elevate her far beyond the reach of the regular household staff, securing her future and her safety.
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"Yes, Mr. Ravenshaw," Daphne answered, a genuine, beautiful smile breaking across her face. "I would be honored."
"Have you realized yet that your courage gave me the key to finding my wife tonight?" Holden asked, offering a rare, subtle smile that completely transformed his handsome face.
