Chapter 10
The hours passed with agonizing slowness. Gemma sat by the window in Owen’s bedroom, staring out into the dark, manicured grounds of the estate. The moonlight cast silver shadows across the lawns, illuminating the heavily armed guards patrolling the perimeter. The threat of the Sutton family's retaliation hung over the mansion like a suffocating blanket, but the night remained eerily quiet.
Owen was sleeping soundly, his breathing deep and even, free from the chemical taint that had haunted him for weeks.
The heavy door of the bedroom clicked softly. The deadbolt slid back with a metallic scrape. Gemma jumped up from her chair, her heart pounding, but relaxed instantly when she saw Wesley step into the room.
He had discarded his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar, revealing the artistic neck tattoo and the exhaustion lining his angular face. The extremely short stubble on his jaw seemed darker in the dim light. He walked silently over to the bed, looking down at his sleeping son. His powerful shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, the heavy burden of command momentarily lifting from his frame.
“Is he resting peacefully?” Wesley asked, his deep voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, sir,” Gemma answered softly, moving to stand beside him. “He hasn't stirred once.”
Wesley watched the boy for a long time before slowly turning his head to look at Gemma. In the soft light of the nursery, her heart-shaped face and delicate cheekbones were exceptionally beautiful. The sophisticated black maid dress she wore felt entirely inadequate for the woman who had displayed such immense courage.
“Are you unharmed, Gemma?” Wesley asked, his observant eyes searching her face for any lingering signs of fear.
“I am fine, Mr. Blackwood,” Gemma whispered, looking up at him. “What happened to her? Did her family come?”
“Do you think I would allow her family to breach these walls tonight?” Wesley inquired. “Will they not have to answer to the commission tomorrow for her crimes against my blood?”
Gemma nodded slowly, realizing the political nightmare that was about to unfold in the criminal underworld. A war was inevitable, but for tonight, the fortress held.
“I should probably pack my things in the morning,” Gemma said, her voice trembling slightly. “I imagine you will want to move him to a secure location, and I am just a maid. I don't want to be a liability to your men.”
Wesley turned fully toward her. He reached out, his tattooed hand gently grasping her arm, stopping her from stepping away. The heat of his grip burned through the sleeve of her uniform.
“Did I ask for your resignation?” Wesley asked quietly.
“No, sir, but—”
“Do you truly believe there is a safer place on this earth than by my side?” Wesley interrupted, asking the question with a fierce, burning intensity that took her breath away.
Gemma stared up at him, her expressive brows drawing together. “Are you asking me to stay?”
Wesley did not smile, but the coldness in his eyes melted into something profoundly protective and deeply possessive. He reached up, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw.
“Will you stand with us when the war begins tomorrow?” Wesley asked.
May you like
Gemma looked at the sleeping boy, then back up at the ruthless, terrifying man who was offering her a place in his dangerous world.
“Yes,” Gemma whispered into the dark.
