Chapter 9
Damon turned his back on Evelyn without waiting for a response. He walked across the sea of scattered tennis balls, his eyes fixed entirely on his daughter.
"Give her to me," Damon said softly as he approached the bodyguard.
The large man gently handed Hazel over. Damon took her into his arms, holding her tightly against his dark, three-piece suit. Hazel wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Are the bad balls gone, Daddy?" Hazel whispered, her voice still trembling.
"They're gone, little bird," Damon murmured, rubbing his tattooed hand up and down her back. "They're all gone. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
He turned his attention to Cora, who was still standing by the fence, her smartphone clutched tightly against her chest.
"Cora," Damon said, his voice returning to its slow, measured cadence.
Cora flinched slightly, intimidated by the sheer, imposing presence of the mafia boss. "Yes, Mr. Lockwood?"
"You stepped forward when you didn't have to," Damon said. "You risked your job, and potentially your life, to protect my child."
"I couldn't just stand there, sir," Cora said, her American accent steadying as she met his cold eyes. "What they were doing to her... it wasn't right."
"No, it wasn't," Damon agreed. He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a sleek, black business card with gold lettering. He held it out to her. "You no longer work at this club, Cora."
Cora’s heart sank. She looked at the card, then up at Damon. "You're... you're firing me?"
"I am hiring you," Damon corrected gently. "As Hazel’s personal caretaker and head of the nursery staff at my estate. Your salary will be quintupled. You will have a private suite, a car, and absolute authority over who enters her quarters."
Cora gasped, her fair, rosy cheeks flushing with shock. "Mr. Lockwood... I don't know what to say."
"Say yes," Damon replied quietly.
"Yes," Cora nodded quickly, taking the card from his hand. "Yes, of course, sir."
"Good. Pack your things. My men will escort you to the estate," Damon said.
Behind them, the sound of groaning filled the air. Miles was slowly regaining consciousness, clutching his jaw as he rolled onto his side. Evelyn was sitting up, wrapping her arms around her bruised ribs, glaring at Damon with sheer, unadulterated hatred.
"You think this is over, Damon?" Evelyn spat, her voice raspy and weak. "My father will not let this stand. He will pull his support from the Commission. You will lose half your territory by the end of the week."
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Damon didn't even turn his head to look at her.
"Let him pull his support," Damon said, his voice carrying over his shoulder. "I was getting tired of sharing the city anyway."
