Chapter 5
The night air was freezing, a sharp contrast to the soft elegant warmth of the mansion Nina had just left. She sat in the back of a heavily armored black SUV, the leather seats cold against her legs. Two of Conrad’s massive security operatives sat in the front, their tailored suits bulging slightly with concealed weapons.
Nina stared out the tinted window as the city lights blurred past. Her mind was a chaotic storm of grief and disbelief. Her mother was dead. The woman who had raised her, who had worked three jobs to keep food on the table, had finally succumbed to her illness. And yet, amidst the crushing sorrow, Nina could not stop thinking about the movie-star handsome mafia boss who had shielded her.
The SUV pulled into a modest, working-class neighborhood, the tires crunching over the cracked asphalt. They stopped in front of a small, faded blue house. The porch light was off.
"Are you sure this is the right address, Miss Whitaker?" the driver asked, turning his head slightly. His American accent was thick and professional.
"Yes, this is it. Thank you," Nina said, gathering her coat.
She reached for the door handle, but the passenger-side operative was already out of the vehicle, opening the door for her and standing guard on the sidewalk, his eyes scanning the dark street.
"Mr. Bellamy asks if you need anything else before we establish the perimeter," the operative said quietly.
Nina froze on the cracked sidewalk. "The perimeter? You aren't leaving?"
"Mr. Bellamy’s orders are to secure this location," the operative replied, his face an unreadable mask. "We rotate shifts. You are under his protection until further notice."
Nina looked back at the armored SUV, realizing the sheer magnitude of Conrad’s reach. He wasn't just offering her a ride; he had deployed his soldiers to guard a housemaid’s home.
"I don't need anything," Nina whispered, unlocking the front door of her mother's dark house. "Thank you."
Inside, the house was devastatingly quiet. It smelled of stale medicine and old floral perfume. Nina dropped her keys on the small entry table and collapsed onto the worn fabric sofa. The sophisticated black maid dress felt absurd in the small, cramped living room. She pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face in her arms, and finally allowed herself to break down. She wept until her throat was raw, mourning the woman she had lost and terrified of the dangerous world she had just been dragged into.
Miles away, inside the luminous, carved walnut study of his mansion, Conrad Bellamy poured two fingers of amber whiskey into a crystal glass. He stood by the tall, bulletproof windows, looking out over the manicured grounds.
The door to his study opened, and his underboss, Marcus, stepped inside.
"Are the borders secured?" Conrad asked, taking a slow sip of the whiskey.
"We have men on every major thoroughfare, boss," Marcus reported. "Valentina’s father, Victor Price, is mobilizing. He’s called in his hitters from the neighboring state. He wants blood for the broken engagement."
"Do they truly believe they can threaten what is mine?" Conrad asked, his deep voice vibrating against the glass.
"They think you’re weak for throwing the alliance away over a maid," Marcus said bluntly.
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Conrad turned around, the extremely short stubble on his jaw catching the light of the desk lamp. His cold, perceptive eyes locked onto his underboss.
"Will they still think I am weak when we leave Victor Price’s lieutenants bleeding in the streets tomorrow?" Conrad asked.
