Chapter 8
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. Rafael walked silently down the hall, carrying Theo’s exhausted weight effortlessly. Mina walked a half-step behind them, her black maid dress swishing softly. Heavy, armed guards nodded respectfully as they passed, their eyes widening in absolute shock as they registered the housemaid walking the private halls with the boss.
They reached the heavy oak double doors of Theo's nursery. Rafael pushed them open, stepping into the massive room bathed in the soft glow of bedside lamps. He gently lowered Theo onto the edge of the large, silk-draped bed.
"Will you help him change into his pajamas, Mina?" Rafael asked softly, looking over his shoulder.
"Right away, sir," Mina said, moving quickly toward the adjoining wardrobe.
While Mina gathered fresh, soft garments, Rafael remained by the bed. 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 knelt beside the bed, holding Theo’s small hands between his own heavily tattooed ones, offering a silent, steadying strength to the boy who had spent weeks in emotional terror.
An hour later, Theo was scrubbed clean, dressed in thick, warm cotton pajamas. He was tucked securely beneath heavy down comforters. The exhaustion of his grief and the adrenaline of the evening finally overtook him, and he fell into a deep, profound sleep.
Mina stood near the door, her hands folded neatly over her white apron. She watched the mafia boss—a man feared across the entire eastern seaboard—gently stroke his son’s hair with a tenderness that defied his ruthless reputation.
Rafael stood up slowly, the tension returning to his broad shoulders. He turned and walked over to Mina, stopping just a few feet away. His cold, perceptive eyes searched her softly oval face.
"How long have you suspected she was being cruel to him?" Rafael asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the quiet bedroom.
"I never suspected she would ask him for money, sir," Mina answered, her voice barely a whisper, afraid to wake the sleeping boy. "But she was always cold to him when you weren't looking. She would send him away, tell him he was a bother. When I heard her tell the staff to ignore him when he cried... I just felt something was wrong."
"Did you consider the danger you were putting yourself in by crossing her in front of the entire commission?" Rafael asked, the extremely short stubble on his jaw catching the lamplight.
"I only considered that a little boy was hurting, and you were marrying his tormentor," Mina said, her expressive eyes holding his gaze with surprising defiance. "I couldn't walk away from that."
"Do you realize you have just handed me the key to saving my son's spirit?" Rafael asked, his gaze intensifying, a dark, terrifying warmth bleeding into his cold eyes.
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"I just told you the truth, Mr. Ashford," Mina breathed, her heart fluttering wildly at the dangerous intensity radiating from him.
"Have you met many people in my world who speak the truth without a gun to their head, Mina?" Rafael 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, securing her low bun.
