Chapter 9 - The Godfather's Vow
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“I’m confused, Mr. Castellano,” Amelia admitted, clutching the silk sheets to her chest. “Why did you bring me here? I’m just a waitress.”
Vincent pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his large hands together.
“You are an employee of my family, Amelia,” Vincent corrected, his voice a low, steady rumble. “When you put on that apron, you wear my name across your chest. That means you are under my protection. What happened yesterday was a profound failure on my part to secure my own territory.”
“You couldn't have known he was going to hit me,” Amelia argued softly.
“It is my business to know,” Vincent stated with absolute finality.
Amelia looked away, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. “What happened to Derek?”
Vincent’s eyes darkened, turning as cold as the winter ocean outside the estate windows.
“Derek Lawson will never drink coffee in Brooklyn again,” Vincent said smoothly. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Amelia shivered, understanding the heavy, unspoken implication. She had spent years running from a violent man, only to be rescued by a man who wielded violence like a scalpel.
“I appreciate you taking care of my medical bills, sir,” Amelia said, trying to maintain her independence. “But I can't stay here. I don't belong in a place like this. I need to get back to my normal life.”
Vincent studied her face, noting the genuine fear and fierce resilience warring in her eyes. He had read the background check his men ran on her when she was hired. He knew exactly what she had run from in Chicago.
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“Your normal life almost got you killed,” Vincent pointed out gently. “You can stay here until the doctor clears you. After that, you are free to go wherever you please. But know this, Amelia—my protection doesn't end when you take the apron off. Once you are part of my family, you are family for life.”
He stood up, adjusting his sweater, leaving her alone with the heavy weight of his vow.
