Chapter 10
Damon turned his body, pivoting seamlessly on the polished marble floors, and focused his entire attention back on Megan and Mila.
Megan was still clutching the heavy leather wallet to her chest, her hands trembling violently. Her beautiful features were pale, her eyes wide with a mixture of residual terror and profound, overwhelming gratitude. She was looking down at Mila, who was holding tightly to the edge of her rumpled white apron.
Damon crouched down, his tailored suit shifting, and looked his daughter in the eye.
"Are you unharmed, Mila?" Damon asked, his deep voice softening significantly, losing its lethal, interrogative edge.
Mila looked at the towering mafia boss, her innocent eyes wide. "I'm okay, Daddy. Did Auntie go to timeout?"
"She did, sweetheart," Damon murmured, his thumb gently brushing his daughter's soft, rosy cheek. "You are a very brave girl. You helped us save the baby."
He stood back up and shifted his gaze to Megan.
The beautiful housemaid was watching him, her exhausted eyes drawn together in quiet empathy. She had endured psychological and physical torment, entirely willing to burn her own hands to save her child. The fierce, gentle loyalty she had displayed was a rare, precious commodity in Damon's dark, violent world.
"Vincent is preparing an armored convoy at the service gate," Damon stated, his voice a low, gravelly command laced with profound affection. "He will take you to the surgeon. My men will secure the entire hospital wing until your daughter is fully recovered."
"I don't know how to repay you, Mr. Sterling," Megan whispered, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. "This is more money than I could ever..."
"You do not owe me anything," Damon interrupted softly, stepping closer to her, his imposing frame casting a protective shadow over her trembling figure. "You are no longer a maid in this house. From this moment forward, you answer to no one but me. When your daughter is well, you will both move into the secure wing."
Megan’s breath hitched. The magnitude of the offer, and the safety it provided, was overwhelming. "Thank you, Damon," she breathed, the formality dropping away in the quiet intimacy of the room.
Before Damon could respond, the heavy mahogany doors of the salon burst open again. A bloodied security operative stumbled into the room, gasping for breath.
"Is the perimeter breached?" Damon asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching for the concealed weapon beneath his vest.
"Yes, Boss!" the operative choked out. "The Cross syndicate didn't wait! Vanessa's personal guards got a signal out before we disarmed them! They hit the outer gates! We have multiple hostiles on the grounds!"
Damon looked back at Megan, his cold, perceptive eyes burning with an unyielding, protective fire.
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"Get in the car. Vincent will get you out," Damon commanded, turning back to face the ruined doorway.
"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my family?" Damon asked the quiet room, racking the slide of his handgun as the estate's high-pitched security sirens began to wail, signaling the brutal beginning of a mafia war.
