Chapter 6
The sprawling staff quarters of the estate were isolated from the main mansion, a deliberate architectural choice to separate the servants from the elite. The bright, cinematic video colors of the engagement party were a distant memory here, replaced by simple, clean, and utilitarian lighting.
Anwen walked briskly down the narrow hallway, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Duncan walked silently beside her, his polished leather shoes making almost no sound on the linoleum floor. His presence in the staff wing was highly irregular, and the few maids and cooks they passed quickly averted their eyes, terrified by the cold, sharp gaze of the Mafia boss.
"He is usually asleep by now," Anwen whispered, stopping outside a simple wooden door at the end of the hall. She rested her hand on the brass knob, looking up at Duncan. Her beautiful, movie-star features were tight with anxiety. "Please, don't overwhelm him. He doesn't know who you are."
"I will be quiet," Duncan promised, his voice low and measured.
Anwen turned the knob and pushed the door open.
The small room was sparsely furnished but immaculately clean. A small bedside lamp cast a warm glow over a narrow twin bed. Sitting in the center of the mattress, surrounded by a few worn toy cars, was a three-year-old boy.
He had fair, rosy skin, perfectly mirroring his mother’s complexion, but his hair was thick, dark, and slightly wavy—an exact replica of the man standing in the doorway.
The boy looked up as they entered. His eyes, a striking, sharp blue, locked immediately onto Duncan. They were the exact same cold, intimidating eyes that struck fear into the hearts of rival syndicates, now resting in the innocent face of a toddler.
"Mommy!" the boy called out, his American accent high and sweet. He scrambled off the bed and ran to Anwen, throwing his arms around her legs. "Did you bring the food?"
Anwen knelt down, hugging him tightly, kissing the top of his head. "Not yet, Leo. But we will have plenty of food tomorrow. I promise."
Leo peeked out from behind his mother's white apron, staring unabashedly at the towering, masculine figure in the tailored three-piece suit. "Who is the big man, Mommy?"
Duncan slowly dropped to one knee, ignoring the fact that his expensive trousers were touching the cheap linoleum floor. He rested his arms on his thighs, his tattooed hands visible in the warm light. He looked at the boy, his own flesh and blood, and a profound, seismic shift occurred within his chest. The cold, measured Mafia boss felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of protective devotion.
"Hello, Leo," Duncan said. He spoke incredibly softly, ensuring his deep voice was comforting rather than threatening.
"Hi," Leo replied cautiously, stepping slightly out from behind Anwen. He pointed a small finger at Duncan's hand. "You have drawing on your skin."
"I do," Duncan smiled, a rare, genuine expression that transformed his angular face into something breathtakingly handsome. He held his hand out, palm up, allowing the boy to see the refined, sharp designs. "Do you like them?"
Leo took a hesitant step forward, his small fingers lightly touching the negative space of a tattoo on Duncan’s knuckles. "It looks like a bird."
"It is an eagle," Duncan explained softly. "It means strength. And protection."
Anwen watched the interaction with bated breath, her heart aching. Seeing the most dangerous man in the city kneeling on the floor, speaking so gently to her son, shattered every preconceived notion she had about him.
"Are you Mommy's friend?" Leo asked, looking up into Duncan's eyes.
May you like
Duncan looked at Anwen, holding her gaze for a long, heavy moment before turning back to the boy.
"I am," Duncan said, his voice dropping into a low, fiercely devoted whisper. "I am going to be the best friend you and your mommy ever had. And nobody is ever going to take your food away again."
