Elodie Finch gently rocked the bassinet

Elodie stared at him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. The movie-star handsome face of the mafia boss filled her vision as he stepped closer. The warm golden light of the bedroom caught the extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble on his jawline.

"What kind of change, Mr. Blackwell?" Elodie asked, her voice a fragile whisper.

"Would you prefer to assume the role of Alice’s personal governess, answering to absolutely no one in this house but me?" Soren asked.

Elodie stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the offer. A personal governess was a position of high respect and immense trust, offering security that far exceeded her role as a housemaid. It meant she would no longer be invisible; she would be a central figure in the life of the mafia boss's family.

"Are you serious, sir?" Elodie asked, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking across her fair, rosy face.

"Have I ever joked about the welfare of my children?" Soren asked, his sharply defined jawline softening slightly.

"I would be honored," Elodie whispered.

"Will you trust me to keep you safe when the war begins tonight?" Soren asked, his voice a low, gravelly promise.

"Always," Elodie replied without hesitation.

Soren raised his tattooed hand, his knuckles gently brushing against the soft curve of her jawline. It was a fleeting, electric touch that promised a future far more complicated than employer and employee.

Before either could speak again, the heavy oak doors of the suite burst open without a knock.

Marcus, Soren’s fiercely loyal underboss, stood in the doorway. He was breathing heavily, a customized assault rifle gripped tightly in his hands.

"Is the perimeter breached, Marcus?" Soren asked, spinning around, his hand already reaching seamlessly beneath his tailored vest for his concealed weapon.

"Not yet, Boss!" Marcus reported, his American accent crisp and tense. "But we have a location on Marcus Thorne. Our scouts found his safe house on the edge of the city. We believe Theo is inside."

Soren’s cold, perceptive eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The time for waiting was over.

"Are the tactical teams fully mobilized and ready for deployment?" Soren asked.

"Yes, sir. Four SUVs are idling in the courtyard. We are heavily armed," Marcus confirmed.

"Will you ensure the perimeter of this estate is locked down tight while I am gone?" Soren asked, walking toward the door.

"Consider it done, Mr. Blackwell. No one gets in or out."

Soren turned back to look at Elodie. She was standing by the bed, her sophisticated black maid dress stark against the luxurious linens where Alice lay sleeping. Elodie’s expressive eyes were wide with fear, yet she remained entirely resolute. She was not running.

"Are you prepared to lock these heavy oak doors behind me?" Soren asked, walking back toward her.

"Are you leaving us?" Elodie cried out, panic finally lacing her American accent. "They will be waiting for you, Soren!"

"Will you survive running through a crossfire if I attempt to take you with me?" Soren asked bluntly, his imposing frame blocking the exit to the hallway.

"I can't just stay here and wait to hear if you are dead!" Elodie pleaded, stepping closer to him, her hands trembling.

Soren stared at the beautiful woman before him. She possessed a profound, quiet courage that completely eclipsed the shallow, venomous nature of the elites he normally dealt with. She was willing to stand in a gunfight to protect his family.

"Are you willing to follow my exact orders to keep Alice safe?" Soren asked, his cold eyes burning with a fierce, protective fire.