Chapter 9
The transition from the opulent, massive dining hall to the quiet, secure residential wing of the mansion was a journey through changing light. The bright, airy luminosity of the lower floors gave way to a softer, more intimate golden warmth in the private corridors. Ivory-paneled walls lined with classical art passed in a blur as Lottie guided her steps beside the formidable Mafia boss.
Once inside the expansive, mahogany-paneled study, Lottie stood quietly near the door. The room was unusually still, the emotional toll of the evening finally catching up to her.
The heavy oak door of the study clicked shut softly.
Dorian stepped into the room, his towering frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. He had removed his suit jacket, his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing more of the refined artistic tattoos on his forearms. He walked quietly over to his massive desk, opening a drawer and retrieving a thick envelope.
“Do you believe a mere apology can rectify the cruelty you suffered tonight?” Dorian asked softly, his deep voice a mere whisper in the quiet room.
Lottie looked up, her expressive brows drawing together in empathy. “Nothing can bring her back, Mr. Westbrook. But your kindness tonight means more than I can say.”
Dorian looked at the beautiful housemaid, the golden light catching the delicate contours of her face. “Did you fear for your life when you contradicted my fiancée in that dining hall?”
“Yes, Mr. Westbrook,” Lottie assured him, her voice steady.
“Are you aware of the danger you placed yourself in tonight, Lottie?” Dorian finally asked, his eyes locking onto hers as he handed her the heavy envelope.
Lottie accepted the envelope, her fingers brushing against his cool skin. “I am, sir. But I couldn’t let her continue to treat the staff like property. Someone had to say something.”
“Does it surprise you to learn that loyalty to the truth is the rarest commodity in my world?” Dorian inquired, taking a slow, deliberate step closer to her.
“I suppose it is, sir,” Lottie whispered.
“Will you accept a new position in this household upon your return from your leave?” Dorian asked, his tone shifting into a formal, absolute decree. “Will you act as the head of my personal household staff, answering to absolutely no one but me, with a salary that ensures you never have to fear financial ruin again?”
Lottie’s eyes widened. It was a massive promotion, a shield of protection that would elevate her far beyond the reach of the regular staff, securing her future and her safety.
“Yes, Mr. Westbrook,” Lottie answered, a genuine, beautiful smile breaking through her grief. “I would be honored.”
“Have you realized yet that your courage exposed a traitor in my ranks tonight?” Dorian asked, offering a rare, subtle smile that completely transformed his handsome face. “My driver is waiting for you at the front gates. Will you take all the time you need?”
“I will. Thank you, sir,” Lottie nodded, bowing her head slightly before turning and exiting the study. Dorian watched her go, knowing that the dynamic of his household had just been permanently altered.
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