Chapter 4
The heavy mahogany doors of Silas’s private study clicked shut, sealing them off from the chaotic exodus occurring in the grand foyer. The room was a sanctuary of dark leather, towering bookshelves, and a massive fireplace that crackled with burning oak. Silas set Theo down on a thick Persian rug, handing the boy a wooden puzzle to play with. Bruno immediately lay down next to the toddler, resting his large head on his paws.
Mara stood awkwardly near the door, her hands clasped tightly together over her creased white apron. She felt entirely out of place in the nerve center of the Ashford syndicate.
Silas walked over to a crystal decanter, pouring a small glass of amber liquid. He turned and offered it to her. "Drink. It will stop the shaking."
"I shouldn't, sir. I'm on duty," Mara protested weakly.
"You are off duty, Mara. Drink it," Silas insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
She took the glass, her fingers brushing against the intricate tattoos on his hands. She took a small sip, coughing slightly as the alcohol burned its way down her throat, but it did anchor her racing heart.
"How long?" Silas asked, his voice dropping its gentle tone, replaced by the terrifyingly calm interrogation of a mafia boss. "How long has Veronica been treating him like that?"
Mara looked down at her sensible black shoes. "She never did anything physical before tonight, sir. It was always... micro-aggressions. Small comments. Pinching his arm too hard when she held his hand. Taking his toys away when you weren't looking. I tried to keep him out of her way as much as possible."
"Why didn't you come to me?" Silas demanded, taking a step closer. The sheer, radiating menace rolling off him was suffocating, even though she knew it wasn't directed at her.
"Because she was going to be the lady of the house," Mara replied, her clear eyes welling with frustrated tears. "I am just a maid, Mr. Ashford. If I accused your fiancée of cruelty without proof, she would have had me fired. Or worse. And then who would have protected Theo?"
Silas’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered beneath his short stubble. He stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her quiet, desperate bravery. She had risked her livelihood, and potentially her life, to act as a shield for a child that wasn't hers.
"You are not just a maid, Mara," Silas said, his voice thickening with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher. "You are the only person in this house who put my son's life above the politics of this syndicate."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Dante, Silas’s towering, scarred underboss, stepped into the room. His expression was grim.
"Boss," Dante said, glancing quickly at Mara before focusing on Silas. "Vincent and Veronica are gone. But Vincent made a call from his armored car. We intercepted the chatter. He's pulling his men from the docks and assembling them at their main compound. They are gearing up for a strike."
"I expected nothing less," Silas nodded, his broad shoulders tensing with kinetic energy. "Lock down the estate. Triple the guard on the perimeter. No one sleeps tonight."
Mara’s breath hitched. She set the glass down on a nearby table. "Mr. Ashford, I should pack my things. If I leave the estate tonight, maybe they will consider the debt settled. I don't want to bring war to your home."
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"You aren't going anywhere, Mara," Silas said, closing the distance between them in two massive strides. He reached out, his tattooed hands gently but firmly gripping her shoulders. "If you step foot outside these gates, the Lanes will slaughter you just to send a message. You are under my personal protection now. Where I go, you go. Do you understand?"
Mara looked up into his fierce, unyielding dark eyes. "Yes, Silas," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs for an entirely different reason now.
