Chapter 1
The natural, cinematic lighting of the afternoon sun spilled across the polished marble floor of Adrian Blackwood’s private study. The bright video colors were completely devoid of any dull yellow tint, illuminating the room with a crisp, pristine clarity. Large leather chairs sat arranged before a massive mahogany desk, while the walls were lined with old, framed family photographs. Stacked meticulously in the corner of the expansive room were several sealed charity-storage boxes, waiting to be shipped away. The air in the study was perfectly still, holding the heavy, quiet weight of a man who ruled an underground empire.
Adrian Blackwood stood near the center of the room. At thirty-two years old, he possessed a deeply masculine, movie-star handsomeness that commanded absolute fear and respect. His thick, slightly wavy dark hair was naturally slicked back, though a few loose strands fell over his forehead, giving him a charming, romantic look that sharply contrasted his lethal nature. His angular face, high-bridged nose, and sharply defined jawline were framed by extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble. His fair, rosy skin highlighted the cold, sharp, intimidating nature of his piercing eyes. He wore a dark, tailored suit trousers and a crisp dress shirt unbuttoned at the chest. Artistic tattoos crept up his neck and decorated his hands and fingers. The designs were refined and sharp, utilizing negative space so perfectly that they did not look dense; the neck tattoos were moderate, creating an attractive, dangerous look without covering his entire skin.
In his heavily tattooed hands, Adrian held a small, faded pink-and-white patchwork blanket. He gripped the soft fabric tightly against his broad chest, his cold eyes staring down at the faded stitches, lost in a memory that had haunted him for three agonizing years.
The heavy mahogany door to the study had been left slightly ajar. Small, hesitant footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor.
Three-year-old Ruby Cruz walked into the private study. Her fair, rosy cheeks were flushed with a child’s innocent curiosity. She wore a simple, light-blue child’s dress, a soft white cardigan, white socks, and bright yellow rain boots that squeaked faintly against the polished stone.
Ruby stopped a few feet away and froze, her bright blue eyes widening as she looked up at the towering, intimidating Mafia Boss. She saw the familiar fabric clutched in his large hands. She raised a tiny, trembling finger and pointed directly at it.
"Mr. Adrian," Ruby asked, her sweet American accent cutting through the heavy silence of the massive study. She tilted her head, her voice ringing with pure, unadulterated innocence. "Why do you keep my blanket?"
Adrian slowly lowered the fabric from his chest. He looked down at the three-year-old girl standing in her bright yellow rain boots. He spoke slowly, with controlled pauses between his words, keeping his volume low. Every sentence he delivered sounded measured, cold, and dangerous, even when speaking to a child.
"This blanket. Was in the charity boxes," Adrian replied softly, his sharp eyes searching the little girl's face. "You say. It belongs to you?"
"Yes, sir," Ruby nodded earnestly, taking a tiny step forward. "My mommy gave it to me. It keeps the monsters away when I sleep."
"Your mommy," Adrian murmured, his jaw tightening slightly. "Elena gave this to you?"
"Uh-huh," Ruby said, reaching her small hands out. "Can I please have it back? I don't want the monsters to come tonight."
May you like
Adrian knelt down on one knee, ignoring the cold marble pressing against his expensive trousers. He held the pink-and-white patchwork blanket out, his tattooed fingers brushing against the faded fabric.
"There are no monsters. In this house. Ruby," Adrian whispered, his piercing gaze locking onto her bright, innocent eyes. "But I need to know. Where your mother found this."
