Chapter 8 - A Debt in Blood|
Vincent lifted the linen handkerchief and gently wiped away a stray tear that had dried on her cheek. The gesture was so surprisingly tender that Fay forgot to breathe.
"Why didn't you come to me immediately?" he asked, his dark eyes searching her face.
"Because I'm just a maid, Mr. Cross," Fay said honestly, looking down at her worn sensible shoes. "Capo Donovan moves millions for your family. I scrub your floors. In world's like yours, people like me are replaceable. People like him are protected."
A dark, dangerous smile touched the corners of Vincent's lips—a smile that held zero warmth.
"You fundamentally misunderstand how my world operates, Fay," Vincent murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Donovan moves money. That makes him useful. But no man in my organization is permitted to touch what belongs to this estate without my explicit permission. You are under my roof. That makes you mine to protect."
Fay looked up, her breath catching in her throat. "Mr. Cross—"
"Call me Vincent," he commanded softly.
He reached down, picked up the bag of frozen peas from the floor, and discarded it into the trash bin. Then he walked over to the subzero freezer, pulled out a clean ice pack, and wrapped it meticulously in a fresh towel.
He returned to her side and gently pressed the ice pack against her bruised jaw.
"Hold this," he instructed softly.
Fay raised her hand, taking the ice pack from his fingers. Their skin brushed, sending a sharp, electric spark trailing up her spine.
Vincent stepped back, turning toward the kitchen doors. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a sleek black smartphone.
May you like
He unlocked the screen, dialed a three-digit extension, and placed the phone to his ear.
"Marco," Vincent said into the receiver, his voice chillingly calm. "Bring Donovan to the glasshouse in the lower gardens. Now."
