Chapter 6 - The Shadows Shift
Two months passed like water wearing down stone, transforming the Rossi mansion from a cold fortress into something resembling a home. Under Beatrice’s management, the new staff was small, thoroughly vetted, and selected for their kindness rather than their social standing. The grand rooms were no longer silent; Lily’s laughter now drifted through the conservatory, and the scent of fresh shortbread often filled the kitchen.
But the city of Chicago did not forget who Leo Rossi was, and his enemies did not forget the vulnerability he had shown by breaking his alliance with the Kensington family.
It was a cold Tuesday evening in December. Beatrice was sitting at the small secretary desk in the corner of the library, reviewing the household ledgers, when Leo entered. He looked haggard, his coat damp with snow, his tie pulled loose at his collar.
“Marco’s gone,” Leo said without preface, walking over to the fireplace and throwing a fresh log onto the embers.
Beatrice stood up, her heart instantly tightening with dread. Marco had been Leo’s right hand for ten years. “What do you mean, gone?”
“The Kensington family made an alliance with the Moretti syndicate in the North Side,” Leo said, his voice hard as iron. “They intercepted Marco’s car near the river docks two hours ago. They sent a message to my cell line. They want the port records back, Beatrice. They want me to step down from the union council, or they’ll send Marco back in pieces.”
Beatrice walked over to him, her large frame moving with a new grace that had come from two months of security and respect. She stopped beside him at the hearth, looking into the flames. “What are you going to do, Leo?”
It was the first time she had used his first name without the formal prefix, and Leo turned his head to look at her, his gray eyes catching the orange light of the fire.
“In my world, Beatrice, when someone takes your man, you strike back twice as hard,” Leo whispered, his hand reaching out to wrap around her wrist—not with the violence of Victoria, but with a deep, desperate need for grounding. “But if I go to the North Side tonight, I leave this house unguarded. The Morettis aren't like Arthur Kensington. They don't care about rules. They don't care about children.”
“Go get Marco,” Beatrice said clearly, her hand turning within his grip until her fingers locked with his scarred knuckles. “Santos and three guards are here. I will take Lily down to the safe room behind the wine cellar. We will lock it from the inside. Nobody gets in unless they use your biometric key.”
Leo stared at her, his jaw tightening. “The safe room has enough provisions for three days, Beatrice. But if they bring heavy ordnance—”
“They won't get past the gates, Leo,” Beatrice said, her voice full of a certainty that surprised even her. “Go bring your brother home. We will be right here when you get back.”
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Leo looked down at their joined hands—the heavy, broad maid and the mafia Don, their fingers woven together in the dark room. He pulled her sudden and hard against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist with a fierce, possessive strength that made her breath hitch.
“If anything happens to you,” Leo muttered into her hair, his voice cracking with a raw vulnerability he had never shown to another soul since his wife’s death, “I will burn this city to the ground, Beatrice. Remember that.”
