Chapter 5
The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the private wing, casting long, dusty beams across the hardwood floor. Amara sat at the edge of the massive four-poster bed, watching Elijah sleep peacefully amidst a sea of silk pillows.
True to his word, Xavier had relocated them both in the middle of the night. They were now deep within his personal sanctuary, a highly fortified, luxurious suite of rooms completely separate from the rest of the staff and the sprawling mansion. Her black maid's dress had been discarded, replaced by soft, high-quality loungewear Xavier had quietly procured for her.
The heavy mahogany door opened, and Xavier walked in. He was dressed in a dark, tailored suit once again, looking every inch the ruthless Mafia boss he was. The scent of expensive cologne and faint cigar smoke entered the room with him.
"Good morning," Xavier said, his deep voice carrying a strange, unnatural calm.
"Good morning, sir," Amara replied, instinctively standing up from the bed. She felt incredibly vulnerable in the soft, gray cashmere sweater and leggings, lacking the protective armor of her uniform.
Xavier’s eyes tracked her movement, taking in her appearance. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his cold eyes before he looked at Elijah.
"He slept through the night?" Xavier asked, walking toward a silver tray of coffee that had been left on a side table.
"Yes, sir. He didn't wake once," Amara said softly. "He feels safe here."
Xavier poured two cups of black coffee, picking up both and offering one to Amara. She hesitated before stepping forward and taking the delicate porcelain cup from his tattooed hand. Their fingers brushed briefly, and she suppressed a shiver at the contact.
"Sit, Amara," Xavier commanded gently, gesturing toward a pair of leather armchairs by the window.
She obeyed, holding the warm cup in her lap. Xavier sat opposite her, crossing his long legs. He watched her over the rim of his coffee cup, his expression calculating and intense.
"Vivian’s father, Marcus, has called for a sit-down," Xavier said, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather and not an impending mob war. "He is demanding restitution for the humiliation of his daughter."
Amara’s breath hitched. "Restitution? But she abused Elijah!"
"Marcus does not care about my son," Xavier replied smoothly. "He only cares about the alliance and the money. He demanded that I reinstate the engagement."
"And what did you say?" Amara asked, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Xavier leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. "I told him that if he ever contacts me again, I will send him his daughter’s head in a box."
Amara gasped, her hands trembling so hard she had to set her coffee cup down on the table to keep it from spilling. The brutal reality of who this man was crashed over her once again. He wasn't just a wealthy employer; he was a violent, dangerous kingpin.
"You are afraid of me," Xavier noted, his voice dropping an octave. It wasn't a question.
"You are a terrifying man, Mr. Holloway," Amara said honestly, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite her fear.
"Good," Xavier murmured, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "In my world, fear is necessary. But I want you to understand something very clearly, Amara." He set his cup down and leaned closer, his broad shoulders dominating her field of vision. "That violence, that terror… it will never be directed at you. Or my son."
Amara searched his face, looking past the sharp jawline and the intimidating tattoos. She saw a man deeply burdened by his power, a father desperate to protect his only child.
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"Why me?" Amara asked, her voice barely a whisper. "You have an army of men. You have nannies, security guards. Why entrust Elijah to me?"
Xavier reached out, his large hand gently resting on the arm of her chair, just inches from her arm. "Because an army fights for a paycheck. Security guards follow protocols. But you… you sat in the freezing dark to protect a child that wasn't yours. You defied a woman who could have destroyed your livelihood. You didn't do it for money, Amara. You did it for love."
