Chapter 5
The sprawling estate of the Whitlock family was a fortress of silent, lethal activity by the time Rafferty’s armored SUV pulled through the iron gates. The bright, airy afternoon sun cast long, elegant shadows across the manicured lawns. The transition from the public chaos of the polo club to the heavily fortified privacy of the mansion felt jarring.
Maura stayed by Rafferty’s side the entire time. She helped him out of the vehicle, wrapping her arm around his waist and serving as his crutch as they navigated the marble steps into the grand foyer.
"Take him straight to the master suite," the estate's private physician ordered, rushing down the stairs to meet them with a medical bag. "I need to examine that ankle immediately."
"I am capable of walking to my own room, Doctor," Rafferty grumbled, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge of pain.
"You will lean on me, sir," Maura said firmly, her American accent leaving no room for argument. "You shouldn't put any weight on it."
Rafferty looked down at her. The cold, dangerous aura he projected to the syndicate softened instantly under her demanding, protective gaze. He didn't argue further. He allowed her to support his weight, his tattooed hand resting heavily on her shoulder as they slowly made their way up the sweeping staircase.
The master suite was a sanctuary of dark wood, rich leather, and heavy velvet curtains. The cinematic lighting of the afternoon poured through the tall windows, illuminating the massive king-sized bed.
Maura carefully helped Rafferty sit on the edge of the mattress. She immediately knelt on the plush carpet, her fingers flying to the laces of his polished leather shoe. She moved with practiced, gentle efficiency, carefully removing the shoe and the dark sock to expose his rapidly swelling ankle.
The doctor knelt beside her, examining the joint with professional detachment.
"It's a severe sprain, Mr. Whitlock," the doctor diagnosed after a moment. "No fractures, thankfully. But you need to keep off it for at least a week. I'll wrap it and provide pain medication."
"Wrap it quickly," Rafferty ordered, his jaw tight. "I have a family council meeting to lead tonight."
"You are not leading a meeting tonight," Maura stated, standing up and crossing her arms over her white apron.
The doctor froze, his hands hovering over the medical tape, absolutely terrified by the housemaid's insubordination.
Rafferty’s head snapped toward her, his cold, observant eyes locking onto her beautiful face. "Do you believe you can countermand my orders, Maura?"
"I believe you are in pain, sir," Maura replied, her expressive eyes refusing to back down. "And I believe showing the capos that you are pushing yourself too hard will make you look desperate, not strong. Let Marcus handle the preliminary interrogations. You need to rest."
The silence in the room was palpable. The doctor didn't dare breathe. No one spoke to Rafferty Whitlock with such blatant authority.
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Rafferty stared at her for a long moment, the lethal intensity of his gaze slowly dissolving into a look of profound, quiet respect. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad shoulders relaxing slightly.
"Finish wrapping the ankle, Doctor," Rafferty commanded smoothly. "And then tell Marcus he is running the council meeting tonight in my name."
