Chapter 9
Within ninety seconds, the massive, opulent room was entirely empty of guests. The only people remaining in the dining hall were Matteo, Cecily, Miles, Adriana, and a dozen heavily armed, white American security guards standing quietly in the shadows near the carved marble fireplace.
"What are you going to do to me?" Adriana whispered, genuine fear replacing her arrogance as she stared at the men holding her arms.
"Will my men escort you to the lower levels, or will you walk there yourself to await my judgment?" Matteo asked softly, gesturing with a heavily tattooed hand toward the armed guards.
Adriana let out a ragged, humiliated sob as the guards began to drag her toward the heavy double doors. Her furious, terrified screams echoed through the bright, airy room, fading only when the doors slammed shut, plunging the dining hall back into a profound, ringing silence.
Matteo turned his full attention back to the beautiful housemaid and his son. The cold, terrifying edge of the Mafia boss softened considerably. He looked down at Miles, his hand gently squeezing the boy's shoulder.
"Are you safe now, my son?" Matteo asked, his deep voice returning to a warm, comforting rumble.
"I am, Daddy. Thank you," Miles whispered, a tear of profound relief spilling over his rosy cheek as he hugged his father's leg.
Matteo then turned his perceptive gaze toward Cecily. The housemaid stood quietly, her hands neatly folded over her white apron, the bruise on her cheek stark in the bright light.
"Will you allow my private physician to examine your face immediately, Cecily?" Matteo asked, looking up into her eyes.
"Of course, Mr. Crowne," Cecily replied, her American accent steadying as she wiped a stray tear from her own cheek. "It is just a bruise. I am fine."
"Do you understand the magnitude of the debt I owe you tonight?" Matteo asked, looking deeply into her delicate features.
Cecily’s fair, rosy cheeks flushed a delicate pink under his intense, perceptive gaze. "I only did what was right, sir. I couldn't let her hurt Miles."
"Is bravery not the rarest commodity in our world?" Matteo questioned, bowing his head slightly in a profound gesture of respect. "Will you assist my son to his suite, Cecily? Will you stay with him until I return?"
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"I won't leave his side, Mr. Crowne," Cecily promised, reaching out to gently take Miles's hand.
Matteo watched them walk toward the heavy double doors leading to the residential wing. His angular face, usually a mask of impenetrable authority, softened with a rare, genuine gratitude. A young woman in a maid's uniform had demonstrated a courage that surpassed his fiercest soldiers, changing the entire trajectory of his family.
