Chapter 9
The warm, muted light of the corridor cast intimate shadows across the space. Maura looked down into Rafferty’s cold, perceptive eyes, finding a surprising depth of warmth hidden beneath their icy surface.
"I believe my job is to take care of you, Rafferty," Maura smiled back, her expressive eyes lighting up gently.
Rafferty stared at her, captivated by the movie-star beauty of her softly pinned hair and delicate features. The sophisticated black maid dress cinched at her waist highlighted the feminine perfection of her silhouette, but it was the quiet courage and unwavering loyalty in her eyes that truly held him captive.
"Will you push me back to my study?" Rafferty asked, gesturing down the hall. "Is there much we still need to discuss regarding the events of today?"
"Yes, Mr. Whitlock," Maura nodded, stepping behind the wheelchair and pushing him smoothly toward the heavy oak doors of his private sanctuary.
The study was exactly as he had left it, the heavy velvet curtains drawn against the evening sun. Maura parked the chair behind his massive carved walnut desk and moved to pour a small measure of amber liquid into a crystal glass. She offered it to him.
"Would you care for a drink to calm your nerves before the real war begins?" Maura asked, a teasing lilt in her American accent.
Rafferty accepted the crystal glass, his fingers deliberately brushing against hers. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. "Thank you."
He took a slow sip, his cold, perceptive eyes never leaving her beautifully tapered face. The soft, elegant warmth of the desk lamp illuminated the powerful breadth of his shoulders in his tailored three-piece suit.
"Are you aware of the retaliation that will likely follow Gwendolyn's exile?" Rafferty asked, his tone shifting back to the calculating, serious cadence of a man preparing for potential war.
"I know she has allies in the city," Maura admitted, taking a step closer to the desk. "They won't accept her banishment peacefully. They will want revenge."
"Do you believe I fear the wrath of old men who backed a coward?" Rafferty asked, his eyes darkening with lethal intent.
"No," Maura replied softly. "I think you are going to destroy them."
Rafferty set his glass down on the desk. The war for the syndicate was no longer a possibility; it was an absolute certainty. The streets would be tense over the next few weeks as he rooted out the remaining traitors.
"Will you accept a change in your employment, Maura?" Rafferty asked suddenly, shifting the topic with whiplash speed.
Maura blinked, her expressive brows furrowing in confusion. "A change?"
"Do you believe your talents are best utilized dusting mirrors and serving champagne?" Rafferty asked, leaning slightly forward in his chair.
Maura’s breath hitched in her throat. The imposing frame of the mafia boss filled her vision.
May you like
"What kind of change, Rafferty?" Maura asked, her heart racing against her ribs.
"Would you prefer to assume the role of my equal, answering to no one in this house but me?" Rafferty asked.
