Chapter 6 - The Warning
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The tension in the mansion was a living, breathing thing. It crawled along the ornate wallpaper and lurked in the shadows of the marble staircases.
Emily was walking back to the kitchen to fetch Santino’s afternoon espresso when a hand shot out from the doorway of the billiards room, gripping her arm like a vice.
She was pulled roughly into the dark room.
Rafe Lombardi slammed the heavy door shut and pinned her against the wood. The massive security chief smelled of stale smoke and expensive cologne.
“You think you’re very clever, don't you?” Rafe growled, his face inches from hers.
Emily didn't struggle. She kept her breathing steady, staring blankly into his dead eyes.
“I am simply doing the job Mr. Ferrara hired me to do,” she replied calmly.
Rafe let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You think the boss keeps you around because you’re a good secretary? He keeps you around to humiliate Enzo and Victoria. You’re a prop. A stray dog he brought inside to prove a point.”
“If I am just a stray dog, Mr. Lombardi, why are you pinning me against a door in the dark?”
Rafe’s grip tightened painfully on her bicep.
“I ran your background check, Emily Taylor,” Rafe whispered, his voice dripping with menace. “No criminal record. Perfect credit. Boring apartment. You’re a ghost. But nobody is that clean. Everyone has dirt. And when I find yours, I am going to bury you in it.”
“You are hurting my arm,” Emily stated flatly.
“Listen to me,” Rafe leaned in closer. “Victoria runs the social side of this family. She runs the alliances. If you cross her, or if you hear something you shouldn't and decide to open your mouth, I won't just fire you. I will make sure they never find your body.”
Suddenly, the heavy brass handle of the door turned.
Rafe stepped back instantly, smoothing his suit jacket as the door swung open.
Santino sat in his wheelchair in the hallway. His face was a mask of terrifying, emotionless stone.
“Is there a problem here, Rafe?” Santino asked quietly.
“No, Boss,” Rafe said smoothly, plastering on a fake smile. “Just showing Miss Taylor the quickest route to the kitchens.”
Santino’s eyes flicked to the red, hand-shaped mark blooming on Emily’s pale arm. The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Miss Taylor knows the way to the kitchen,” Santino said softly. “If you ever touch my secretary again, Rafe, I will have your hands removed. Am I understood?”
Rafe swallowed hard, the color draining from his scarred face. “Yes, Boss.”
“Get out.”
Rafe hurried past them down the hall.
Santino looked at Emily, his dark eyes intense. “Are you injured?”
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“I am fine, sir,” Emily said, rubbing her arm.
“Good. Bring my espresso. We have work to do.”
