Chapter 4
The nursery was bathed in the soft, warm glow of a small star-shaped nightlight. Amara sat in the plush rocking chair in the corner of the room, gently swaying back and forth. Elijah was finally asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm against her chest. She hadn't dared to put him in his crib yet; the boy would panic the moment he felt the loss of her body heat.
She leaned her head back against the chair, her mind racing. What had she done? She was just a housemaid. She had stood up to the fiancée of the most feared man in the city. By all rights, she should be packing her bags, running for her life. Yet, Xavier Holloway had defended her. The thought of his deep, rumbling voice commanding the room sent a strange, conflicting shiver down her spine—a mixture of profound relief and terrifying intimidation.
The heavy oak door of the nursery clicked open. Amara gasped softly, her arms instinctively tightening around the sleeping child.
Xavier stepped into the room. He had discarded his suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest, the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt straining slightly against the broad muscles of his chest. Without the jacket, the artistic tattoos climbing the sides of his neck were far more visible, trailing down beneath his collar. He looked tired, the sharp lines of his face drawn tight.
"He's asleep," Amara whispered quickly, not wanting to wake the boy.
Xavier closed the door silently and walked over to the rocking chair. He moved with a silent, predatory grace that belonged to a much smaller man. He stood over them, looking down at his son’s peaceful face.
"Did he cry?" Xavier asked, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.
"No, sir," Amara replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the intricate ink on the back of his hand, too nervous to look into his sharp eyes. "He was just very tired. The fear exhausted him."
Xavier knelt slowly beside the chair. He reached out, his large fingers gently brushing a stray curl from Elijah’s forehead. "I failed him."
Amara looked up, startled by the raw vulnerability in the dangerous man’s voice. "Mr. Holloway, you couldn't have known. She only did it when you were away."
"It is my job to know everything," Xavier stated coldly, his eyes briefly flashing with that terrifying intensity before softening as he looked back at his son. "And it is my job to protect him. I brought that woman into this house because it was strategically sound. I ignored my son's apprehension because I thought he was merely missing his mother."
"He does miss his mother, sir," Amara said softly. "But children know when someone doesn't love them. They feel the malice."
Xavier finally shifted his gaze from Elijah to Amara. His eyes swept over her face, taking in the beautiful, sophisticated lines of her features, the warm medium-brown of her skin, and the genuine care radiating from her.
"You knew," Xavier said slowly. "You knew what she was doing. Why did you not come to me, Amara?"
Amara swallowed hard. "I... I am just a maid, sir. Miss Prescott was going to be the lady of the house. Who would have believed me? I thought... I thought if I just stayed close to him, I could protect him."
"You locked yourself in that freezing room with him, didn't you?" Xavier asked, the pieces falling into place. "When she put him in there. You didn't just find him. You stayed with him."
Amara nodded slowly, shame coloring her cheeks. "She threatened to have me fired if I let him out. But she didn't say I couldn't go in with him. So I held him in the dark. It was the only thing I could do."
Xavier stared at her for a long, heavy moment. The silence between them was thick, charged with something Amara couldn't quite understand.
"You are no longer a maid in this house, Amara," Xavier said quietly, his tone absolute.
May you like
Panic seized her throat. "Sir, please! I need this job. I won't overstep again, I promise—"
"You misunderstand me," Xavier interrupted, his hand gently covering hers where it rested on Elijah's back. The heat of his skin burned through her sleeve. "You will never scrub a floor or serve a plate in this house again. From this moment on, you are Elijah’s primary caretaker. You answer only to me. And if anyone in this city ever tries to harm you or my son, I will burn their world to ash."
