Chapter 9 - The Sovereign’s Vow
Clara set her tea down on the table. She looked at the leather folder, then at the broad, scarred man sitting across from her.
For eight months, she had lived in a world dictated by fear. Every decision she made—where she walked, where she worked, what time she came home—had been defined by a cruel man who wanted to make her feel small.
Now, in the span of a single evening, Arthur Moretti had completely reshaped her world. He hadn't just removed the threat; he had surrounded her with an army.
She stood up from her chair and walked slowly toward him.
Arthur didn't move. He sat motionless as she stepped into his space, her cream cashmere robe brushing against his dark trousers.
She reached out, her fingers gently touching the pale scar that cut through his left eyebrow.
Arthur’s breath hitched slightly, but he stayed perfectly still, letting her touch him.
"You are a terrifying man, Arthur Moretti," she whispered, her fingers tracing down the line of his cheekbone to his strong, stubbled jaw.
"Only to people who try to harm what is mine," Arthur replied, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that resonated deep within his chest.
"Am I yours?" she asked softly.
Arthur reached up, his large, warm hand covering hers where it rested against his jaw. He leaned his face into her palm, his gray eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, absolute intensity that made her heart leap.
"You have been mine since the first night you set a glass of whisky on my table and looked me in the eye without flinching," Arthur said. "I was simply waiting for you to realize it."
Clara smiled—a real, radiant smile that reached her hazel eyes for the first time in years.
She didn't pull away. She stepped closer, sliding her arms around his neck, feeling the dense, powerful muscle beneath his shirt.
May you like
Arthur’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into his lap with a smooth, effortless strength that made her feel entirely weightless. He pulled her flush against his chest, burying his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling the clean, warm scent of her skin.
"No one will ever hurt you again, Clara," Arthur swore into her skin, his voice carrying the absolute finality of an oath written in stone. "I promise you on my life."
