Chapter 4 - The Silk Armor
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I was escorted to the East Wing by two massive, silent guards who looked like they chewed gravel for breakfast. The master suite was a sprawling, opulent sanctuary of dark velvet, mahogany furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows now sealed shut by heavy steel blast doors.
Sitting on the edge of the massive king-sized bed were three large, black garment bags.
A quiet, terrified maid whom I recognized from the laundry room scurried into the suite, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. She unzipped the bags, revealing a stunning array of designer clothing—cashmere sweaters, silk blouses, tailored trousers, and several breathtaking evening gowns.
“Mr. Romano had his personal shopper procure these for you, Miss,” the maid whispered, refusing to look me in the eye.
“Thank you, Maria,” I said softly, recognizing the fear I used to carry.
When she left, I stood alone in the cavernous room. The transition was completely disorienting. Just six hours ago, I was scrubbing baseboards in the guest bathrooms, praying my rent check wouldn't bounce. Now, I was wrapped in a silk robe that likely cost more than my car, sleeping fifty feet away from the most dangerous man in Chicago.
I walked into the massive marble bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the scalding water wash away the sweat, the fear, and the lingering scent of gunpowder. When I stepped out, I dried off and slipped into a soft, charcoal-gray cashmere lounge set from the new wardrobe.
A soft knock echoed against the heavy bedroom door.
I opened it to find Damian standing in the hallway. He had changed into a fresh black dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing the edge of a fresh white bandage on his shoulder. He held two crystal glasses and a bottle of expensive bourbon.
“May I come in?” he asked quietly.
I stepped aside, my heart performing a chaotic flutter in my chest. He walked into the room, setting the glasses on a small coffee table near the fireplace, pouring a generous measure of bourbon into each.
“You look beautiful,” Damian murmured, handing me a glass. His dark eyes swept over me, stripping away the vulnerability and leaving me feeling strangely, incredibly powerful.
May you like
“I feel like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s life,” I admitted, taking a sip of the burning liquid.
“You are stepping into the life you were always meant to have,” Damian corrected gently. He took a step closer, the heat radiating from his large frame wrapping around me like a blanket. “I know you are terrified, Harper. But you do not have to be invisible anymore. I will teach you how to stand in the light, and I will ensure nothing in the shadows ever touches you again.”
