Chapter 3 - SECRETS AND STRAWBERRIES
The following weeks transformed Khloe’s routine into a tightrope walk over an abyss.
Every morning at six sharp, she crossed the threshold into the East Wing master suite. What had once been a impersonal chamber of mahogany and leather now felt heavy with an unspoken tension. Victor was almost always there when she arrived. Sometimes he was dressed in a dark suit, reading documents at his desk while sipping black coffee. Other times he was still in his shirtsleeves, fresh from a late-night run or an unexpected raid across the city.
The new rule remained absolute: no other staff set foot in the wing.
Khloe moved quietly, dusting the heavy bookcases, vacuuming the plush rugs, and making the massive California king bed. The first few days were filled with suffocating silence. She kept her head down, strictly adhering to Mrs. Gable’s original warning. But Victor was not a man who allowed silence to remain empty for long when he wanted answers.
“How is the boy?” Victor asked one morning without looking up from a leather-bound folder.
Khloe froze, a polishing rag clutched in her hand. Her heart did a strange, violent flip against her ribs. She hadn't mentioned Tommy to anyone at the estate.
“I... I beg your pardon, Mr. Russo?”
Victor closed the folder with a soft thud. He leaned back in his leather chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. His grey eyes locked onto hers with surgical precision. “Your brother. Thomas Bennett. Fifteen years old. Admitted to St. Jude’s Memorial for end-stage renal failure. He requires three dialysis treatments a week.”
Khloe felt cold panic thread through her veins. “You investigated me?”
“I don’t keep people in my personal quarters without knowing every breath they’ve taken since birth,” Victor said smoothly. “You have no criminal record. You worked two jobs until six months ago. You sold your mother’s engagement ring to pay for his initial consults. You take the 5:15 AM bus every morning, and you skip lunch to save three dollars a day.”
Khloe felt exposed, stripped down to her barest vulnerabilities. A mixture of anger and shame burned in her throat. “Is my brother’s illness a threat to your security, Mr. Russo?”
A faint, almost imperceptible twitch appeared at the corner of Victor’s mouth. “No. But your desperation is. Desperate people make sloppy mistakes. Or worse, they take bribes from men like Leo Donati.”
“I would never—”
“I know,” Victor interrupted, standing up. He walked toward her, his long strides effortless and intimidating. He stopped just two feet away, towering over her. The faint scent of cedar and expensive tobacco drifted off him. “If I thought you were capable of betrayal, Bennett, you wouldn't be standing in this room. You wouldn't be breathing.”
Khloe held his gaze, refusing to look down despite the terror racing through her blood. “I came here to work. I clean your room, I take my pay, and I take care of my brother. I don't care about your wars, your money, or your enemies.”
Victor studied her face for a long moment. He saw the fire beneath her fatigue, a stubborn resilience that refused to break. It was a quality he rarely saw in his world, where people either bowed out of fear or plotted out of greed.
“Breakfast,” Victor said suddenly, turning away toward the small dining table near the balcony.
“What?”
“Mrs. Gable sends up enough food for three men every morning. I don't eat carbs. Sit down.”
“Mr. Russo, I’m not allowed—”
“That is another rule,” Victor said over his shoulder, sitting down and unfolding a silver napkin. “When I am in this room, my word supersedes Mrs. Gable’s. Sit.”
Khloe hesitated. The smell of fresh waffles, scrambled eggs, and toasted bread had already made her stomach growl traitorously. She hadn't eaten since yesterday noon. Slowly, she set down her cleaning caddy and walked over to the table. She sat on the very edge of the chair across from him.
On a silver tray sat a small bowl of fresh strawberries—bright red, plump, and perfect despite the freezing winter outside. Imported at astronomical expense, no doubt.
Victor pushed the plate toward her. “Eat.”
Khloe reached out with a trembling hand and took a strawberry. She took a small bite. The sweet, juicy fruit burst across her tongue, a stark contrast to the bland, cheap canned goods she normally lived on. She closed her eyes for a split second, savoring it before she could stop herself.
When she opened her eyes, Victor was watching her. The hardness in his slate-grey gaze had softened just a fraction, replaced by something deep and unreadable.
“You work too hard for someone who weighs ninety pounds,” he remarked, picking up his espresso cup.
“I do what I have to do,” Khloe said quietly, taking another bite. “Tommy is all I have left. My parents died when I was nineteen. If I don't hold things together, nobody will.”
“Family,” Victor muttered, his tone turning dark and bitter. “A convenient weakness enemies always aim for.”
“Is that why you live alone in this giant fortress?” Khloe asked before she could filter her thoughts.
She instantly regretted it, bracing for his temper. But Victor didn't snap. He simply looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the snowy hills surrounding the property.
“A fortress keeps things out,” Victor said slowly. “It also keeps things in. In my position, attachments are sentences executed by someone else’s hand. Leo Donati tried to sell me his daughter weeks ago. He views her as a bargaining chip. I view her as a target waiting to be hit. Isolation is the only real protection.”
Khloe looked at him—the powerful, terrifying mafia Don who commanded hundreds of armed men, sitting alone in a room full of luxury, convinced that feeling anything was a fatal error.
“That sounds like a very expensive prison,” Khloe whispered.
Victor’s eyes snapped back to hers. For a moment, the air between them grew thick, charged with an intensity that made Khloe’s pulse race. He didn't answer her. He simply set his cup down, stood up, and adjusted his cuffs.
May you like
“Finish the food,” Victor said, his voice cold once more as he pulled his suit coat on. “And make sure the linen closet is restocked by noon. I have guests arriving tonight.”
He walked out, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. Khloe sat alone at the table, staring at the half-eaten strawberry in her hand. Her heart was beating entirely too fast.
