Chapter 6
The doctor finished wrapping the ankle with lightning speed, leaving a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table before fleeing the master suite as quickly as politely possible.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut, plunging the vast, luxurious room into a profound, intimate silence. The cinematic afternoon light began to shift into the warmer, golden hues of early evening.
Maura remained standing near the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her black maid dress. The adrenaline that had fueled her violent defense at the polo club was finally bleeding out of her system, leaving her trembling slightly.
Rafferty watched her carefully. He noted the slight shake in her fingers, the way her delicate cheekbones were paler than usual.
"Come here, Maura," Rafferty said quietly, patting the edge of the mattress beside him.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking around the bed and sitting gingerly on the edge, leaving a respectable distance between them.
"Are you aware of the penalty for striking a member of this family?" Rafferty asked, his deep voice a low, mesmerizing rumble.
Maura swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. "I know the rules, sir. But I couldn't watch her humiliate you. She was going to hurt you again."
"Did you stop to consider that she had armed guards standing three feet away?" Rafferty inquired, his perceptive eyes studying her profile.
"No," Maura admitted softly. "I only saw you."
Rafferty’s breath caught slightly in his broad chest. The quiet, unspoken affection they had shared for months in stolen glances and brief conversations was finally laid bare by the violence of the afternoon.
He reached out, his heavily tattooed hand gently grasping her chin, turning her face toward him. The contrast between his dark ink and her fair, rosy skin was stark.
"You are the bravest woman I have ever known," Rafferty murmured, his thumb lightly brushing the line of her jaw.
Maura looked up into his cold, dangerous eyes, finding a surprising depth of warmth hidden beneath their icy surface. "What happens now, Rafferty?" she asked, using his first name in private for the first time.
"Now," Rafferty replied, his voice hardening with lethal resolve, "I dismantle every piece of Gwendolyn's operation, and I make sure no one ever looks at you with disrespect again."
Before the quiet intimacy of the moment could deepen, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
"Boss," Marcus’s muffled voice called out. "We have a situation in the holding cells."
Rafferty’s romantic demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by the cold, lethal mafia king. He released Maura’s chin, sitting up straighter.
"Enter," Rafferty commanded.
Marcus stepped into the room, his face grim. "Gwendolyn is refusing to speak to anyone but you, sir. She says she has information about the port authorities that will compromise the entire syndicate if she isn't released."
"Does she believe I negotiate with traitors?" Rafferty asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, completely ignoring the doctor's orders.
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"Sir, you shouldn't walk on that," Maura said quickly, standing up and reaching for his arm.
"I am not walking," Rafferty stated, gritting his teeth as a sharp spike of pain shot up his leg. "Marcus, fetch a wheelchair from the medical wing. We are going to the basement."
