Chapter 11 - The Uninvited Guest
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Before Clare could answer, the heavy mahogany doors of the library slammed open.
Gabriel rushed in, a suppressed pistol drawn and held at his side. “Boss. We have a problem.”
Sebastian’s hand dropped from Clare’s face. The vulnerable, broken man vanished in a millisecond, replaced by the lethal Mafia Don. He smoothly transferred himself from the sofa into his wheelchair with a terrifying, practiced agility.
“Who?” Sebastian asked, his voice like ice.
“Victor Romano. He’s at the front gates. He brought ten heavily armed men. He says he wants to pay his respects, but it’s a show of force.”
Clare stood up, her blood running cold. Romano was the rival boss Gabriel had warned her about.
“Hide her,” Sebastian ordered Gabriel.
“No,” Clare said, her voice shaking but resolute. “If I hide, and they find out I live here, it looks like a weakness. It looks like you have a secret.”
Sebastian paused, looking at her with a mixture of shock and profound respect. “She’s right,” he murmured. “Stand behind my chair. You are my physical therapist. Nothing more. Keep your face blank.”
Minutes later, Victor Romano strutted into the grand foyer, flanked by massive enforcers. He was a slick, greasy man with dead eyes.
“Sebastian!” Victor grinned, looking down at the wheelchair with thinly veiled disgust. “Still rolling around, I see. Such a tragedy.”
Sebastian smiled—a cold, dead thing. “Victor. To what do I owe the pleasure of you dirtying my floors?”
May you like
Victor’s eyes snapped to Clare. He licked his lips. “And who is this beautiful little nurse?”
“She’s my therapist,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping an octave. “And if you look at her like that again, Victor, I’ll have Gabriel mail your eyes to your mother.”
