Chapter 8
Grayson stood up, gently lifting Luca and placing him back onto the center of the massive bed. He pulled the heavy duvet up to his son’s chin, pressing a lingering, fiercely protective kiss to the boy's forehead.
"Try to sleep, Luca," Grayson said, his deep voice a soothing rumble. "I will be right outside the door, and my guards are watching the hallway. Nothing can get to you."
Once Luca’s eyes began to droop with exhaustion, Grayson gestured for Nina to follow him toward the adjacent private sitting room. They stepped through the archway, the heavy velvet drapes muffling the sounds of the mansion. The natural, cinematic lighting of the sitting room highlighted the sheer exhaustion in Nina's delicate features. She kept her head slightly bowed, maintaining the submissive posture expected of a maid, but Grayson stepped directly into her line of sight, forcing her to look up.
"Why didn't you tell me, Nina?" Grayson asked, his voice a low, controlled murmur. "When I called to check in, why didn't you say she was hurting you?"
Nina met his gaze, her expressive eyes shining with unshed tears. "Because I know what the Shaw alliance means to your syndicate, Mr. Vale. If I told you, I knew you would break the engagement. I didn't want to be the reason you went to war."
Grayson studied her face, the fair, rosy skin marred by the faint, fading shadows of a bruise near her jawline that she had tried to cover with makeup. He felt a profound, burning disgust for his own blindness. In a world full of hardened killers and corrupt politicians, this young woman possessed more integrity and loyalty than his entire inner circle combined.
"You endured physical abuse to protect my political standing," Grayson said slowly, the artistic tattoos on his hands flexing as he clenched his fists. "I owe you a debt I can never fully repay."
"You don't owe me anything, sir," Nina whispered, her breath hitching slightly under his intense scrutiny. "I just wanted Luca to feel loved."
"I owe you everything," Grayson corrected, taking a slow step closer. He reached out with his hand, the negative space tattoos stark against the pristine white collar of her maid uniform. He didn't touch her, but his hand hovered protectively near her cheek. "You are no longer a maid in this house, Nina. From this moment on, you are under my direct, personal protection. Whatever you need, whatever you want, you have it."
Nina’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parting slightly. "Sir, I... I don't know what to say."
"Say you will stay," Grayson said, his tone shifting from the calculated focus of a mafia boss to a deeply vulnerable, quiet plea.
"Stay?"
"I cannot trust anyone else with my son," Grayson explained, his dark eyes burning into hers. "And... I cannot imagine this house without you in it. I have been blind, Nina. But I see you now."
Nina’s heart hammered against her ribs. The quiet, unspoken affection she had harbored for him for years was suddenly being acknowledged, dragged into the bright light of reality.
"I will stay, Grayson," Nina whispered, dropping his formal title for the first time.
May you like
Grayson let out a slow, ragged exhale. He finally closed the distance, his tattooed hand gently cupping her face. His thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a quiet sanctuary built in the middle of a warzone.
But before he could lean in, a frantic, heavy pounding echoed from the hallway outside the master suite.
