Chapter 4 - SHADOWS OF THE DONATI FAMILY
The arrival of "guests" at the Russo estate was never a pleasant occasion. It meant increased security, heavily armed men standing at every corridor, and an oppressive cloud of danger hanging over the household.
By six in the evening, snow was falling heavily outside. Khloe had finished her duties in the East Wing and was helping in the main kitchen when the iron gates at the perimeter opened. A procession of sleek black sedans rolled up the winding driveway.
From the kitchen window, Khloe watched as guards opened the doors. Out stepped Leo Donati, looking even more frantic than he had weeks ago, accompanied by four heavy-set enforcers in long dark coats. Beside him was Isabella Donati, wrapped in a lavish white fur coat that made her look like an exotic bird trapped in a cage of iron and ice.
“Back to work, Bennett,” Mrs. Gable barked, slapping a tray onto the stainless-steel counter. “You’re serving drinks in the formal parlor. Keep your eyes down, drop the tray, and get out. Do not linger.”
Khloe picked up the silver tray, which held a crystal decanter of vintage scotch and four heavy glasses. Her hands were steady, but her nerves were raw.
She navigated the long, grand corridors until she reached the heavy double doors of the formal parlor. Two of Victor’s personal bodyguards—men with scarred faces and holstered sidearms beneath their tailored coats—nodded to her and pulled the doors open.
The room was vast, warmed by a massive stone fireplace where thick logs crackled and hissed. Victor sat in a high-backed leather chair near the fire, looking completely relaxed despite the tense men standing before him. Leo Donati was pacing near the rug, his face flushed red. Isabella sat stiffly on a velvet sofa, staring blankly into the flames.
“I told you, Victor, the shipment was intercepted by the syndicate from the south!” Leo raged, waving his arms wildly. “It wasn't my fault! They had inside information!”
“Inside information implies a leak in your organization, Leo,” Victor said calmly, pouring himself a small drop of scotch from a personal bottle on the side table. “Which makes it your failure. And your debt.”
“Give me two more weeks!” Leo pleaded, stopping in front of Victor. “Two weeks, and I’ll double the returns! I’ll give you fifty percent of the docks’ revenue!”
Victor lifted his glass, his eyes cold as ice. “You have until Friday, Leo. That was the agreement. I don't renegotiate with men who lose five million dollars of my cargo.”
Khloe stepped forward quietly, keeping her head lowered as instructed. She approached the side table to set down the heavy tray. As she bent down, her tray made a faint clinking sound.
Isabella Donati turned her head at the noise. Her sharp, heavily made-up eyes locked onto Khloe. Isabella’s gaze slid from Khloe’s plain maid uniform up to her face—and then her eyes narrowed in immediate recognition.
Isabella had seen Khloe coming out of the East Wing earlier that afternoon carrying linens. In a house where Victor allowed no women near his private quarters, a young, pretty maid moving freely through his private sanctuary stood out like a flame in the dark.
“Who is she?” Isabella snapped suddenly, pointing a manicured finger at Khloe.
The room went dead silent.
Leo stopped his ranting. Victor’s bodyguards shifted their weight, their hands instinctively drifting toward their jackets. Khloe froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
Victor didn't turn his head immediately. He took a slow sip of his scotch, swallowed, and then turned his slate-grey eyes toward Isabella. “She is staff.”
“She’s the maid from your private wing,” Isabella said, standing up, her expensive fur coat falling open. She looked at Khloe with pure venom. “I’ve heard the rumors among the lower syndicate families, Victor. They say you refused my father’s offer of a union because you’re keeping a little charity case in your bed!”
Khloe felt the blood drain entirely from her face. “That’s not true—”
“Silence,” Victor commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but the sheer weight of authority in it cut through the room like a blade.
Isabella flinched, but her pride kept her standing tall. “Is it true, Victor? You reject a Don’s daughter, an alliance that could secure the entire state, for a common servant girl?”
Leo Donati looked between his daughter and Victor, his eyes widening as a dangerous, desperate thought seemed to take root in his mind. “Victor... if this is about disrespecting my family—”
Victor stood up.
The motion was slow, deliberate, and terrifying. The physical presence of the man seemed to expand, casting a heavy shadow across the firelit room. He stepped past Leo and stopped directly in front of Isabella.
“You are in my house, Isabella,” Victor said softly, his voice dripping with lethal quiet. “You are alive right now only because your father once served my predecessor with some degree of honor. Do not mistake my patience for weakness.”
He turned his cold gaze onto Leo. “Take your daughter and leave. If I see either of you on my property before Friday without five million dollars in cash, my men will not open the gates for you. They will open fire.”
Leo’s face turned pale as ash. He knew Victor wasn't bluffing. “Victor, please—”
“Out.”
Leo grabbed Isabella’s arm, yanking her back. Isabella glared at Khloe with a look of murderous hatred before allowing her father to drag her toward the double doors. The enforcers followed silently, and the heavy doors slammed shut behind them.
The parlor fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Only the popping of the firewood broke the quiet.
Khloe stood frozen beside the side table, her hands clutching the silver tray so tightly her knuckles were white. She was shaking.
Victor turned slowly to face her. The rage that had flashed in his eyes toward the Donatis was gone, replaced once again by that unreadable, intense focus.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
Khloe swallowed the lump in her throat. “She... she thinks... people are talking about us.”
“People in my world always talk,” Victor replied, walking over to her. He reached out, his large, calloused hand lightly taking the edge of the tray from her trembling fingers and setting it down on the table. “They talk because they are afraid. They look for weaknesses to exploit.”
“I’m not your weakness, Mr. Russo,” Khloe said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. “I’m just a maid. If they think I mean something to you, they’ll—they might hurt my brother. They might hurt me.”
Victor looked down at her small, fragile frame. For the first time, Khloe saw a flicker of genuine emotion pass through his slate-grey eyes—a deep, dark shadow of protective instinct.
May you like
He leaned down slightly, his face inches from hers. “No one touches what is under my roof, Khloe. No one. If Leo Donati or his daughter so much as looks at you again, I will burn their empire to the ground.”
The use of her first name hit her like an electric shock. Khloe stared at him, caught between terror and a strange, overwhelming warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace behind them.
