Chapter 2 - The Private Suite
The grand ballroom guests cleared out within ten minutes, practically trampling each other in their hurry to escape the impending war between the Marchetti and Ashford families.
Enzo carried Adeline up the grand mahogany staircase, past the guest quarters, straight into the private east wing of the estate—a restricted area where no servant or lieutenant had been allowed to set foot for a decade.
He kicked open the heavy oak doors to his personal suite and carried her inside.
The room was vast, lined with leather-bound books, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the rain-slicked gardens of the Chicago estate, and a massive king-sized bed covered in dark charcoal silk sheets.
"Mr. Marchetti, please," Adeline whimpered softly as he laid her gently on the edge of the mattress. "You don't have to do this. The doctor... the house physician can see me in the staff quarters."
"Silence, Adeline," Enzo said softly, kneeling on the floor right in front of her.
He didn't call for a maid. He didn't call for a doctor. He reached for a silver medical kit stored in his bedside table, snapped open the locks, and pulled out antiseptic solution, sterile gauze, and medical tape.
With methodical, trembling hands—hands that had signed death warrants and executed rivals without a flicker of emotion—Enzo began peeling back the torn, blood-stained sleeve of her cotton uniform.
When the deep, angry red welts left by the leather riding crop were fully revealed, Enzo’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his tanned skin.
"She hit you four times," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave into a dark, murderous register.
"I've suffered worse," Adeline whispered, wincing slightly as he applied the cool antiseptic to her skin.
Enzo paused, his dark eyes rising to lock onto hers. "In this house?"
"No," she looked down at her lap. "Before I came here. My uncle... after my parents died... he wasn't a kind man."
Enzo felt an unfamiliar, uncomfortable tightening in his chest. For eleven days, she had moved through his estate like a shadow—quiet, efficient, never raising her voice, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor whenever he passed through the halls. He had assumed she was just another desperate girl looking for a paycheck.
He hadn't realized she was a survivor.
"You saved my life tonight, Adeline," Enzo said softly, wrapping the sterile white bandage around her forearm with practiced precision. "If that glass had reached my lips, I would have been dead in sixty seconds. Why did you risk yourself? You knew what Camilla was capable of."
Adeline looked up, her clear brown eyes meeting his without a trace of the fear that usually filled everyone who looked at him.
"Because you were fair to Mrs. Gable when her grandson fell ill," Adeline said softly. "Last week... I saw you sign the check for his surgery. You didn't tell anyone. You didn't broadcast it. You just paid it. A man who protects old women and sick children doesn't deserve to die by poison in his own home."
Enzo went rigid. He had written that check in secret, routing it through a shell charity so Mrs. Gable wouldn't feel indebted to him. He had no idea this quiet, observant maid had noticed.
Before he could answer, the heavy double doors of the suite burst open.
Dante stood in the doorway, his leather jacket drenched in rain, holding a blood-spotted satellite phone.
"Boss," Dante said, his face stern. "Arthur Ashford just mobilized his men. He’s refusing to surrender the shipping docks. He called the Commission in New York—he’s claiming you broke the treaty by holding his daughter hostage."
Enzo slowly stood up from his knees, wiping his hands on a clean towel. The tenderness in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by the terrifying, cold calculation of a mafia king preparing for war.
"Call the captains," Enzo ordered, stepping toward the door. "Tell them to shut down every Ashford-controlled warehouse in the state by midnight. If a single barrel of their cargo moves through my port, burn it."
"Yes, Boss. What about the girl?" Dante glanced at Adeline sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in Enzo’s coat.
May you like
Enzo turned back, his gaze lingering on Adeline’s pale, lovely face.
"She stays in my room," Enzo commanded flatly. "Assign four of our best men to guard this door. If anyone who doesn't bear the Marchetti name steps within ten feet of her... shoot them."
