Chapter 9
The reinforced bunker was silent, insulated from the violent reality of the mansion above by feet of steel and concrete. The bright, clinical light of the safe room washed over the three figures, casting sharp shadows against the walls. Alistair stood mere inches from June, his towering, masculine frame radiating a profound, protective heat.
"I just did what I had to do, sir," June whispered, her American accent trembling slightly as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. She kept one hand resting reassuringly on Luke's shoulder.
"Is throwing your body over my son to shield him from bullets merely 'doing what you have to do'?" Alistair asked, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto hers.
June swallowed hard, her expressive brows drawing together. "I love him, Mr. Crowe. I couldn't let them hurt him."
"Does a woman who loves my son so fiercely belong in a servant's uniform?" Alistair asked, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly hum that sent a shiver down her spine.
He reached out, his long, tattooed fingers gently brushing a streak of plaster dust from her delicate cheekbone. His touch was incredibly gentle, a stark contrast to the lethal violence she had just witnessed him inflict. The warmth of his hand against her fair, rosy skin was electrifying.
"I don't understand, sir," June breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Will you permit me to offer you a different position within this household?" Alistair asked, his hand dropping slowly to rest on the edge of the desk behind her.
"What kind of position?" June asked, her softly rounded face flushing a deep, beautiful pink under his intense scrutiny.
"Would you consider becoming Luke's personal governess, answering to absolutely no one in this family but me?" Alistair asked.
June’s eyes widened in profound shock. The promotion was astronomical. It meant moving out of the staff quarters, a massive increase in salary, and a permanent, respected place within the inner circle of the most powerful man in the city.
"Are you serious, Mr. Crowe?" June asked, a radiant, hesitant smile touching her lips.
"Have I ever jested about the welfare and future of my son?" Alistair asked, his sharply defined jawline softening slightly.
"I would be honored," June replied softly.
"Will you trust me to keep you both safe while I dismantle the Waverly syndicate tomorrow?" Alistair asked, his eyes darkening with the promise of absolute, devastating war.
"I trust you," June said without hesitation.
Before Alistair could ask his next question, the secure intercom on the wall buzzed sharply.
"Are the remaining hostiles cleared from the property, Marcus?" Alistair asked, pressing the receiver button.
"Yes, Boss. The estate is fully secured. We have Selene in the holding cell. Her father’s men are dead or captured," Marcus reported, his voice crisp and professional. "What are your orders regarding the Waverly family?"
"Will you assemble the tactical teams and prepare the armored convoy for a dawn raid?" Alistair asked coldly.
"Consider it done, Mr. Crowe. We will burn their operations to the ground."
Alistair released the button, severing the connection. He turned back to June and Luke. The war had officially begun, and he would not rest until the threat was permanently eradicated.
"Will you and Luke try to get some sleep on the cots while I coordinate with my men?" Alistair asked, gesturing toward the comfortable beds set up in the corner of the bunker.
"We will," June nodded, gently guiding the exhausted seven-year-old toward the beds.
May you like
Alistair watched them go, his powerful shoulders relaxing imperceptibly. He had lost a fiancée, but he had found something infinitely more valuable in the beautiful, courageous woman who had saved his son.
"Will you be waiting for me when the sun comes up, June?" Alistair asked softly into the quiet room.
