Adeline woke up in a bed larger than the entire studio apartment she used to rent. The sheets were high-thread-count silk, soft against her bandaged arms. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her new room on the penthouse floor of the Marchetti estate.
A light knock sounded at the door. Before she could answer, two female tailors stepped into the room carrying racks of elegant, high-end dresses, silk blouses, and tailored trousers.
“Mr. Marchetti’s orders, Miss Croft,” one of them said respectfully.
Adeline felt uncomfortable as they measured her, dressing her in a high-collared, emerald-green silk dress that completely concealed the bandages on her arms. It was luxurious, beautiful, and felt entirely like a uniform of a different kind. She was no longer a servant, but she was still captive in a golden cage.
When she descended the stairs to the private dining room, Enzo was already seated at the head of a long table, reading through financial ledgers while sipping black coffee. He looked up as she entered, his dark eyes lingering on her for a fraction of a second before returning to his neutral mask.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the seat at his right.
Adeline sat down cautiously. Servants—people who had been her peers yesterday—quietly set down a plate of fresh fruit, poached eggs, and coffee before her. They avoided her eyes, looking at her with a mixture of fear and envy.
“You look better,” Enzo noted without raising his eyes from his paperwork.
“I feel like an imposter, Mr. Marchetti,” Adeline said honestly. “Yesterday I was scrubbing your floors. Today I am wearing clothes that cost more than my father earned in a year.”
“Power is an illusion, Adeline,” Enzo said, closing his ledger with a soft snap. “Yesterday you were a maid because you let people treat you like one. Today you are sitting at my table because you showed you have a spine. Do not apologize for surviving.”
Before she could process his words, Luca stepped into the dining room, his expression tense.
“Boss, Arthur Ashford is downstairs in the courtyard,” Luca reported. “He brought six armed men with him. He’s demanding to see you. He says the Morettis are already moving in on his shipping territory now that your alliance is broken.”
Enzo didn’t look flustered. He calmly picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Arthur always was a weak strategist. He relies on noise because he has no teeth.”
“Should we shoot them?” Luca asked casually.
“No,” Enzo said, rising from the table. He looked at Adeline. “Come with me.”
—¿Yo? —exclamó Adeline, sin aliento—. Señor, Arthur Ashford me odia. Si me ve…
—Si te ve, comprenderá que mis decisiones son absolutas —dijo Enzo con frialdad, extendiéndole el brazo—. Ahora estás conmigo, Adeline. Nadie en esta ciudad toca lo que me pertenece.
Adeline vaciló un instante y luego colocó su mano vendada sobre su antebrazo. Sus músculos se sentían como acero macizo bajo la fina tela de su traje.
Salieron al gran balcon de marbre avec vue sur le patio extérieur. Là-bas, Arthur Ashford est tombé en compagnie d’une berline noire, flanquée de ses fornidos guardias qui portaient des pesadas pistolets occultes dans ses chaquetas. Votre rostro estaba enrojecido de furia mientras miraba hacia el balcón.
—¡Marchetti! —gritó Arthur—. ¡Ha deshonrado a mi hija! ¡Has arruinado nuestro contrato por una sucia sirvienta!
Enzo s’est posé sur la barandilla de piedra, mirando al anciano con frío desdén. «Tu as deshonrado, Arthur. Trajiste un enfant maltraité à ma maison et pense que cambiaría mi honor por tus muelles podridos».
—¡Los Moretti están quemando mis almacenes! —gritó Arthur avec la voix quebrada—. Sans votre protection, nous sommes perdus ! Rétablir le compromis ou, juro por Dios, quemaré todos los cargamentos que lleguen por el río Chicago!
Enzo a trouvé une réponse, un son bas et un terrasseur qui faisait que l’air se repentait froidement.
— ¿Me amenazas en mi propia puerta, Arthur ? —preguntó Enzo en voz baja.
Avec un mouvement rapide et élégant, Enzo a sacé un revolver plat et réticent à son fond d’homme. Sans doute, appuyez sur le patio et appuyez sur le chateau deux fois.
¡BANG! ¡BANG!
Les bals impactèrent sur le trottoir à un centimètre des chaussures d’Arthur Ashford, ce qui fit que des fragments d’hormones furent dispersés dans les airs. Arthur grit, rétrocède un salto et cayó de rodillas sur la gravité. Vous avez des gardes-palmes qui gardent vos armes instantanément, mais avant de pouvoir les retirer, cinq hommes armés apparaissent sur les toits et les balcons de la finca Marchetti, munis de fusils automatiques.
Le patio était complètement silencieux.
— La prochaine fois, j’ai trouvé un peu plus d’arrivée — dit Enzo avec calme, gardant le pistolet dans son abri —. Sal de Chicago est cette nuit, Arthur. Si vous voyez ma mère dans cette ville, vous entretenez personnellement vos muelles à Los Moretti.
Arthur, terrorisé, s’est rendu dans un métro dans sa voiture, et il s’est envolé vers les portes d’entrée en hiver, se trouvant derrière un noyau de poussière.
Enzo s’est envolé vers Adeline. Elle l’a regardé fixement, avec le cœur latiendole avec force en el pecho.
—¿Tienes mio? —preguntó Enzo, bajando la voix à un susurro suave.
