Moving around the dining table, I survey my staff, watching how they all straighten and offer me every bit of their attention as I snake my way to the head of the table.
Everyone is here. My housekeeper. Rohan, my doorman. My personal butler. The maids and the groundskeepers.
They all remain standing. knowing they all have duties to attend to and that I don't usually waste any time.
"Some of you may have noticed that we currently have a woman occupying the private suite on the second floor," I start as I settle at the top of the table, not bothering to take a seat. "She is my guest and is to be treated with the utmost respect, just as you would anyone else who steps foot inside my home. Not a single hand is to be laid on her, or any wandering eyes feasting upon her beauty. She has already been through enough, and I wish for her to find comfort within my home."
My gaze subtly meets Krista's across the formal dining table, and when her lips press into a hard line and her gaze fills with pity, I know she understands exactly what kind of life I have stolen this woman from. And let's be clear when I say stolen, Krista knows exactly what that means. After all, I stole her just as I did Chiara, and hopefully as she begins to find solace in my home, she will be able to connect with Krista and the two of them can heal together, or in the least, offer the other some kind of friendship.
Focusing back on the many faces around my table, I continue with my expectations. "I have granted her full access to my estate, including the outdoor facilities. However, it is imperative that I be made aware of her daily movements. Until I know she can be trusted, she is to be watched like a hawk. I need to know her whereabouts at all times of the day, and it is to be noted that she is not permitted to step even a foot outside my estate without my approval. Is that understood?"
Everybody nods their head, and I turn my attention back to my personal chef. "Krista, I trust you will find some time in your day to meet with our new guest and discuss her dietary requirements."
"Of course, Sir," she responds with a subtle drop of her chin. "Anything else she requires for her stay? Clothes? Prescriptions? Electronics? Toiletries?"
"No electronics," I state firmly. "As for clothes and toiletries, yes. Please see to it that her closet is fully stocked. She will be staying indefinitely, so be sure to provide clothing for all seasons and occasions. Stock her bathroom with basic necessities to get her started, and when she wakes and is feeling up to it, you can ask her about her preferred brands."
"Yes, Sir," Krista says with another nod.
Digging my hand into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and fish for my credit card when Rohan's tone sails through the dining room. "Her name, Sir? What shall we refer to her as?"
I blindly hand my credit card to Krista, and she takes it without question, being one of the only members of my staff I trust with it. "Her name is not important," I say, choosing to keep them in the dark. After all, the less they know, the better. However, considering the strict level of professionalism and how it directly stands against my requirements to show respect to my guests, I relent and offer an alternative. "You may refer to her as ma'am, and nothing more until further notice."
Rohan nods in acknowledgment, and to be honest, out of all of my staff, Krista and Rohan are probably the only ones my new prize will have to deal with. The rest are to be seen and not heard. However, if she wishes to make friends with them down the line, I suppose that will be okay.
"Are there any questions?"
"Sir," one of my security team pipes. "What are your expectations security-wise? Does she require a shadow, someone stationed outside her door? Or will the security footage surveillance be satisfactory?"
I consider his question, trying to figure out exactly what I want. On one hand, I want her comfortable here, and having some ex-con stationed outside her bedroom door isn't going to help with that. On the other hand, I don't know anything about this girl. | don't know her capabilities or her intentions, and until I can look her in the eye and read exactly what she's thinking, I have to play it safe.
Unsure how to answer it just yet, I meet his waiting stare.
"Let me get back to you on that. I need to look further into her history before making an informed decision on how to move forward. Expect a response before lunch.
He nods. "I'll let my head of security know to expect your instructions."
"Good," I say before looking back at everyone else. "Unless there are any further questions, this meeting is adjourned. Please get back to your posts."
With that, the dining room quickly empties until I'm left with just Krista's heavy stare on me. I arch a brow, waiting to hear what she needs.
She lets out a heavy breath, and her lips flinch in the corners as if she's trying to be brave.
"Trafficking?" she asks in a small tone.
I hold her stare a moment longer. She's usualy not so bold when it comes to the details of my house guests. She tends to turn a blind eye, knowing exactly what kind of company I keep, but she can tell that this one is different. It hits harder and because of the respect I hold for her and the challenges she's had to overcome, I won't disrespect her by lying about it now. "Yes."
Krista nods, and as she slips my credit card into the back pocket of her jeans, she forces a smile across her face.
"You're a good man, Killian. You did the right thing," she tells me, reaching out and squeezing my arm tenderly. "I'Il do everything I can to help her feel at home."
I nod. And without another word, Krista is gone.
Letting out a heavy breath, I brace my fists against the table and lean into them. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. That's what my grandfather always told me, and I never truly understood it until he was murdered in cold blood. Before his body was even cold, I took over as head of the DeLorenzo Mafia family. Now, I understand it as clearly as if the words had been engraved on my skin. It's a lonely life here at the top, and with the lives of so many in the palm of my hands, I can't afford to put even one foot out of line. One wrong move, and this whole family could burn to ashes. That much was proven last night during the raid at my warehouse. While it wasn't my family members who were slain, they were my workers. They were my responsibility, and last night, I failed them. The blood of those twenty-three workers is on my hands, and I will make this right.
Having too much to get through, I scoop my coffee off the dining table and cringe at the circle it left on the hardwood.
I've always been a fan of a good coaster, only whenever I need one, there's never any in sight. I suppose it doesn't matter. The second I walk out of here, my housekeeper willI sweep through and leave the room looking untouched.
Moving through my home, I find myself passing the main staircase that leads up to the private suites, right where Chiara sleeps, and I feel a pull, urging me to go check on her. I pause, my gaze sweeping up the long staircase, and I immediately berate myself. I shouldn't feel this way. She's just some random woman who I happened to find locked in a cage at Ezekiel's auction. She isn't anyone special, certainly not someone who is worthy enough for me to take time away from work.
Anger at my lack of self-control surges through my body, and I push myself to keep walking toward my office, but a movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. I pause again, watching Rohan reach for the front door and pull it open just in time for Sergiu to stride through, not bothering to spare a single second to thank Rohan for opening the door.
"Cousin," Sergiu booms as he stalks through my foyer and meets me in the middle with two manila folders tucked under his arm.
He claps me on the back, making a move to greet me, but I hold back, not having the patience for it today and needing answers about last night's bullshit raid. "Have you got a name for me?"
Sergiu nods. "Im waiting for the call to come through any minute now," he says before handing me the manila folders.
"In the meantime, I come bearing gifts. Everything you requested on your new pet. And the names and contact details of the workers killed in the raid last night."
I nod and flip through the list of names, not recognizing any of them, and yet each one seems to sting harder than the last.
There are a million more questions I need to ask to follow up on the conversation we had last night, but I move on to the next folder instead, and right on top, I find a photograph of Chiara. She must be only a few years younger here, maybe nineteen or twenty. Her cheeks are full, and her green eyes are so bright, a stark contrast to the girl I met last night.
One thing is for sure, when she's not plagued by fear, starved, or covered in grime, she's fucking gorgeous.
My attention is piqued, and I flip through the pages inside, quickly scanning over her birth certificate and the copy of the missing person's report that was filed two days ago when she failed to show up for her shift at the bar she worked at. "I trust you've taken care of this?" I ask Sergiu.
"Just about," he says. "The report mysteriously went missing from police records, but this was filed a few days ago, so I can't guarantee that there aren't physical copies on a desk somewhere, but with her name scrubbed from existence and her birth certificate suddenly gone, we should be okay. I've got men keeping a close eye on that though."
"Good, and–"
Sergiu's ringing phone cuts me off, and as he reaches for it and glances at the caller ID, a familiar excitement flashes in his eyes. He holds up a finger, telling me to hold that thought while he takes his call. "Speak to me," he says into the phone.
I listen to his call, keeping a keen eye on my cousin as he takes in the information that's being shared, and the second his lip quirks up into a wicked grin, I know we've got exactly what we need.
Sergiu ends the call with his gaze locked on mine. "We got 'em."
"Call a meeting," I tell him, excitement drumming through my veins. "We're going hunting tonight."