Chapter 6 - An Unprecedented Promotion
Mia clapped her hands together, letting out a victorious squeal that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "Yay! I'm the boss! Now give me a cookie!"
"Mia, no!" Clara gasped, finding her voice at last, her face flushing crimson as she reached for her daughter's wrist. "You do not ask Mr. Castalano for cookies! Mr. Castalano, I am so sorry, she doesn't know—"
"Clara," Vincent said.
The sound of her name on his lips was quiet, but it carried the weight of an iron vault door swinging shut. Clara went still, her wide brown eyes darting to his face.
Vincent rose smoothly to his feet, dusting an imaginary speck of lint from his trousers. He stood at his full height once more, but the suffocating, predatory menace that usually surrounded him had shifted into something entirely different—something warmer, heavier, and impossible to read.
He looked down at the young mother kneeling on his rug. His sharp gray eyes took in her trembling fingers, the clean, humble cotton of her mint-green uniform, and the fierce, desperate love that radiated from her every movement. She had been willing to throw herself between him and her child without a second thought. In Vincent’s world, where loyalty was bought with diamonds and sold for bullets, that kind of pure, unhesitating courage was rarer than gold.
"Stand up, Clara," Vincent commanded softly.
Clara scrambled to her feet, smoothing her white apron with frantic, nervous strokes, keeping Mia firmly tucked behind her skirts. Mia peeked out from behind the mint fabric, waving her little fingers at Vincent with cheerful insolence.
"Renzo," Vincent said, not turning his head.
"Yes, Boss?" Renzo managed to choke out, clearing his throat and trying desperately to rearrange his rugged face back into a professional, intimidating mask.
"Call the kitchen," Vincent instructed, his baritone smooth and unhurried as he walked back toward his mahogany desk. "Tell the pastry chef to send up a plate of those warm almond biscotti and a glass of milk with one of those little paper umbrellas. The pink ones."
Renzo blinked, his eyebrows flying up toward his hairline. "The... the umbrellas, sir?"
Vincent turned, casting a single, lethal side-glance toward his underboss. "Did I stutter, Renzo?"
"No, sir. Almond biscotti, pink umbrella. On it," Renzo said rapidly, pulling out his encrypted phone and stepping out into the corridor with suspicious haste, his shoulders still twitching with suppressed amusement.
Vincent walked behind his desk and sat down in the high-backed leather chair. He picked up his gold fountain pen, checking the nib, before looking back at Clara, who was standing near the center of the Persian rug looking like she was waiting for a firing squad.
"You have been working here for six months, haven't you?" Vincent asked.
"Y-yes, Mr. Castalano," Clara stammered, her fingers knotting together against her waist. "Since the autumn. Through the domestic agency."
"And your work has been satisfactory," Vincent noted, his eyes scanning a mental ledger. "Mrs. Gable says the east wing has never been cleaner. But I was not aware that our staff quarters accommodated children."
Clara’s heart dropped into her stomach like a lead weight. "Sir, please... my sister was supposed to watch her during my day shifts, but she moved to Ohio two weeks ago. I couldn't afford childcare in the city on my salary, and I didn't have anywhere else to leave her. I keep her in the laundry room, I swear! She sleeps in the bassinet, she doesn't make a sound—today was an accident, I swear to you on my life—"
"Relax, Clara," Vincent interrupted, his tone even and calm. He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his broad forearms over his chest, the black rose tattoos catching the warm morning light. "I am not firing you. And I am not docking your pay."
May you like
Clara blinked, stunned. "You're... you're not?"
"No," Vincent said, a faint, dry smirk playing across his bearded jaw. "As you heard, your daughter has just taken over management. It would be bad for business to fire the mother of the new boss."
