“Her first husband.”

Josie swallowed hard, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The sheer, overwhelming presence of the mafia boss standing before her shattered every preconceived notion she had of him. He wasn't just a ruthless killer; he was a man who possessed a terrifying sense of justice, willing to burn his own empire to the ground to cut out a rot.

"I didn't know what to expect, Mr. Westbrook," Josie whispered, her expressive brows drawing together. "I just found his letters. She kept them in a locked vanity box. Letters begging her to leave him alone, detailing the poison she used. When I tracked him down... I knew I couldn't let you marry her."

"Did you think a monster would punish the only person with the courage to save his life?" Everett asked gently.

He didn't walk away. He stood there, his towering masculine frame casting a long shadow in the golden light. The rigid boundaries of class, wealth, and danger had been completely obliterated in the span of a single evening.

"Will you accompany us upstairs, Josie?" Everett asked, his gaze lingering on her softly heart-shaped face. "Do you think I trust anyone else in this house to watch over Arthur tonight?"

"I will come," Josie said softly, the reality of her new position settling heavily upon her.

"Are you prepared for the war that begins tomorrow?" Everett asked, turning his broad shoulders toward the heavy mahogany doors.

The private west wing of the mansion was a stark contrast to the opulent, echoing dining hall. The corridors here were lined with plush carpets and warm, muted lighting, designed specifically to be a sanctuary. Everett walked silently down the hall, keeping his pace slow for the elderly man. Josie walked a half-step behind them, her black maid dress swishing softly. Heavy, armed guards nodded respectfully as they passed, their eyes widening slightly as they registered the housemaid walking so closely with the boss.

They reached the heavy oak door of a luxurious guest suite. Everett pushed it open, stepping into the room bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp. He gently guided Arthur toward the large, plush bed.

"Will you help him settle in, Josie?" Everett asked softly, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Westbrook," Josie said, moving quickly to assist the exhausted seventy-four-year-old. She moved with practiced grace, helping Arthur off with his heavy coat and scarf, ensuring he was comfortable beneath the thick down comforters.

While Josie worked, Everett remained by the window, looking out over the dark, sprawling grounds of his estate. He removed his tailored suit jacket, draping it over a chair, then unbuttoned his crisp white shirt at the collar, revealing the artistic neck tattoo. He watched Josie interact with the old man in the reflection of the glass, observing the gentle, maternal care she offered the broken survivor.

Once Arthur was tucked securely into bed, asleep almost instantly from the emotional exhaustion, Josie stood near the door. She had folded the old man's clothes and stood with her hands resting neatly over her white apron.

Everett stood up slowly, the tension returning to his broad shoulders. He turned and walked over to Josie, stopping just a few feet away. His cold, observant eyes searched her face.

"Did you consider the danger you were putting yourself in by crossing her in front of the entire commission?" Everett asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the quiet bedroom.

"I only considered that a man was living in terror, and you were walking into a trap," Josie said, her expressive brows drawing together in fierce determination. "I couldn't walk away from that."

"Do you realize you are the only reason I am breathing tonight?" Everett asked, his gaze intensifying, a dark, terrifying warmth bleeding into his cold eyes.

"I just did what anyone should have done," Josie breathed, her heart fluttering wildly at his proximity.

"Have you met many people in my world who do what they should, Josie?" Everett inquired. He reached out, his refined, tattooed hand hovering for a fraction of a second before he gently tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.