Chapter 9
The towering iron gates of Conrad’s mansion swung open, granting the damaged, bullet-scarred SUV entry into the heavily fortified estate. The cascading crystal chandeliers inside the grand foyer cast their familiar, warm golden light over the marble floors as Nina and Conrad stepped inside. The bright, luminous colors of the interior felt like a surreal dream after the violence of the afternoon.
The mansion had been transformed into an armed fortress. Dozens of men in dark suits and tactical gear patrolled the carved walnut hallways, their weapons visible. The war with the Price syndicate had fully erupted, and the estate was locked down.
Conrad carried an exhausted, sleeping Molly in his arms. He looked at Nina, whose sophisticated black maid dress was wrinkled and stained with grass from the cemetery.
"Will you accompany me to the secure wing?" Conrad asked, his deep voice echoing in the vast foyer.
"Yes," Nina replied, following closely behind his powerful, broad shoulders.
They walked in silence through the opulent corridors until they reached a heavily reinforced set of double doors. Inside was a luxurious suite, bathed in the same airy, elegant light as the rest of the house, but possessing no windows.
Conrad gently laid Molly down on the plush, king-sized bed, pulling a thick quilt over her small frame. He stood up and turned to face Nina.
"Will she be safe here?" Nina asked, her expressive brows drawn together in lingering worry.
"Is this not the safest room in the entire city?" Conrad answered, stepping away from the bed. He ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair, pushing the loose strands back from his forehead. He looked exhausted, the extremely short stubble on his jawline seeming darker in the soft light.
Nina watched him, her heart aching. He had thrown away a crucial alliance and started a bloody war, all to protect her dignity and her life.
"Mr. Bellamy," Nina began, her voice soft but firm. "You cannot keep fighting them for me. I am just a housemaid. I will pack my things and leave the state. If I am gone, Victor Price will have no reason to keep attacking you. You can make peace."
Conrad stopped moving. His cold, perceptive eyes locked onto her beautifully oval face. The silence stretched, tight and crackling with unspoken tension.
"Do you believe my war with Victor Price is still about you serving dinner?" Conrad asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying, intimate whisper.
He closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. The polished leather shoes made no sound on the thick rug. He stopped mere inches from her, his towering, masculine frame forcing her to look up.
"Did you think I would let you walk out of my house and disappear?" Conrad asked, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
"I don't belong in this world, Conrad," Nina breathed, using his first name for the first time. Her rosy skin flushed a deep, beautiful pink. "I clean mirrors. I serve plates."
"Are you not the woman who held my daughter while bullets tore through the air?" Conrad asked, lifting his hand. The refined artistic tattoos on his fingers brushed gently against the side of her neck, his thumb resting lightly on her jawline.
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"Am I not the man who would burn this city to ash before I let anyone take you from me?" Conrad asked.
Nina’s breath hitched. She leaned slightly into his touch, completely mesmerized by the raw, dangerous affection radiating from the mafia boss.
