Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Corridors
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Morning sunlight filtered through the library windows, casting pale beams of gold across the scattered ledgers.
Emma stirred slowly, her face buried in soft, luxurious wool that carried the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne.
She opened her eyes and realized with sudden, terrifying clarity that she was wrapped inside Dominic’s private overcoat.
The leather sofa was empty beside her, though a warm depression in the cushions proved someone had sat there for hours.
Emma sat bolt upright, her heart hammering against her ribs as the memories of the night flooded back into her mind.
She had fallen asleep on Dominic Bellini.
She had collapsed against the most dangerous crime boss in Massachusetts as though he were an old friend.
Panic seized her throat as she scrambled to her feet and smoothed down the creases of her white apron.
The library doors swung open, and Mrs. Alvarez walked into the room carrying a silver tray with hot breakfast.
Instead of the usual strict scowl, the older woman looked at Emma with wide, assessing eyes.
"You slept late, Miss Collins," the housekeeper noted, placing a plate of warm pastries and fresh fruit on the desk.
"I am so terribly sorry, Mrs. Alvarez," Emma rushed out, her face burning crimson.
"I did not intend to fall asleep; exhaustion simply overwhelmed me, and I—"
"Save your apologies for someone who demands them," Mrs. Alvarez interrupted in a hushed, conspiratorial tone.
The older woman glanced over her shoulder toward the corridor before leaning close to Emma.
"Mr. Bellini ordered the kitchen staff to prepare this specifically for you."
Emma looked at the fresh berries, the delicate brioche, and the steaming cup of dark coffee in astonishment.
"He did?"
"He sat beside you until five in the morning without moving so he wouldn't disturb your rest," Mrs. Alvarez whispered.
"I have served the Bellini family for thirty-four years, child."
"I have seen men executed for stepping onto his shadow without bowing."
"Whatever spell you have cast over that man, you had better pray it does not break."
Emma felt a dizzying mixture of dread and wonder swirling in her stomach.
Before she could take a single bite of breakfast, the heavy library doors creaked again.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back blonde hair and cold gray eyes stepped into the private sanctuary.
It was Marcus Vance.
His tailored gray suit could not hide the bulge of a concealed pistol beneath his armpit.
"Well, well," Marcus sneered, looking around the room before his predatory gaze landed on Emma.
"The little domestic mouse has been promoted to personal secretary, I hear."
Emma stood tall, stepping between Marcus and the desk where the incriminating financial documents lay open.
"Mr. Bellini is not in the library, Mr. Vance," Emma said, keeping her voice completely level.
Marcus took three slow, menacing steps toward her, his grin revealing sharp, uneven teeth.
"I'm not looking for Dominic, sweetheart; I'm looking for whatever garbage you’ve been whispering in his ear."
He reached out a heavy hand to grab the ledger, but Emma placed her flat palm firmly on the cover.
"These records belong to the master of this house," Emma declared, refusing to back down an inch.
Marcus’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, murderous glare.
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"Let me give you some friendly advice, little girl," Marcus growled, leaning down into her space.
"Pretty maids who meddle in business they don't understand have a nasty habit of washing up in the harbor."
