Chapter 5 - THE SANCTUARY ON THE THIRD FLOOR
“Dominic!” Adriano called out.
The head of security appeared instantly from the glass doors. “Boss.”
“Clear the master suite on the third floor,” Adriano commanded. “Move all of Genevieve’s belongings into the basement storage. Prepare the master bedroom for Rebecca and Clementine.”
Rebecca gasped, trying to stand up, but her knees were weak. “Mr. Falcone, no! We can’t stay in the master suite! I’m a maid—!”
Adriano turned, his dark eyes locking onto hers with unwavering authority.
“You are not a maid in this house, Rebecca,” Adriano said firmly. “From this second forward, you are the most protected person in New England. You and Thomas’s daughter.”
He leaned down, picked Clementine up effortlessly in his left arm, and extended his right hand to Rebecca.
“Come inside,” Adriano said softly. “You’re cold. Let me take care of you.”
For eighteen months, Rebecca had walked through the service doors of the Falcone estate, sleeping in a windowless basement room beside the boiler.
Tonight, she walked up the grand central marble staircase behind Adriano Falcone, holding his jacket around her wet shoulders, while the man who controlled the city carried her daughter in his arms like she was made of fine porcelain.
They reached the third floor—an area of the mansion Rebecca had only ever entered to polish the heavy oak doors.
Adriano pushed open the double doors to the master suite.
It was vast, beautiful, and warm. A massive king-sized bed wrapped in white Egyptian cotton sat before a grand stone fireplace. Soft velvet sofas, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty valley, and a private balcony lined with blooming jasmine filled the room.
Adriano walked over to the fireplace, grabbed an iron poker, and stoked the embers until a warm, golden fire roared to life, filling the bedroom with rich warmth.
He gently placed Clementine on the soft velvet sofa near the fire.
“Dominic,” Adriano spoke to the door. “Have the kitchen prepare warm milk, honey, fresh chicken broth, and clean clothes. Call Dr. Mercer to inspect both of them for chills or fever.”
“Right away, Mr. Falcone,” Dominic nodded, closing the doors quietly.
Rebecca stood near the edge of the plush Persian rug, still dripping water onto the fine wool, feeling completely out of place in such luxury.
“I... I don't know what to say,” Rebecca whispered, her hands clutching the lapels of his suit coat. “Eighteen months... I thought you were just a cold man who didn't care about anyone.”
Adriano walked over to her, stopping just two feet away. He looked down at her face, noticing for the first time without the cover of darkness how beautiful her hazel eyes were, despite the lines of fatigue around them.
“I am a cold man, Rebecca,” Adriano admitted quietly. “In my world, softness gets you killed. But three years ago, a gentle man named Thomas taught me that there is honor worth dying for.”
He reached out, his fingers lightly touching the edge of his own heavy coat resting on her shoulders.
“I swore on Thomas’s grave that night,” Adriano said, his voice dropping into a solemn vow, “that if I ever found his family, I would build a fortress around them that no evil in this world could touch.”
Clementine yawned softly from the sofa, rubbing her eyes with her small fists. “Mommy... I’m sleepy...”
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Adriano looked at the little girl, a small, genuine smile touching his lips—a smile no one in Providence had seen in ten years.
“Go to your daughter, Rebecca,” Adriano said gently. “Get warm. Get rest. Tomorrow, the storm begins.”
