Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Boss
The door to Adrian's office clicked shut, eliminating all sound from the rest of the house. The room smelled of expensive tobacco, aged leather, and an underlying scent of gunpowder that made Claire’s pulse quicken.
Adrian didn't sit behind his desk this time. He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured two fingers of scotch, and turned to face her.
"You are interfering with my children," he said, his voice dangerously low.
"I am taking care of them," Claire corrected, standing her ground despite the predatory aura radiating from him. "Which is what you paid me to do."
"I paid you to watch them, not to fill their heads with sentimentality. Miles was talking about his mother. I heard you through the door." Adrian stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. "In my world, Ms. Donovan, vulnerability is a death sentence. My sons will inherit an empire. They cannot afford to be soft. They cannot afford to cry over a woman who has been dead for three years."
"She wasn't just a woman, she was their mother!" Claire snapped, her anger overriding her fear. "They are six years old, Mr. Moretti! They don't want an empire. They want their dad to look at them without seeing a liability. They don't trap nannies because they're evil. They do it because it’s the only time they get to see if anyone cares enough to stay when things get messy!"
Adrian’s hand tightened around his glass until his knuckles turned white. For a second, Claire thought she had pushed him too far. The rumors of his ruthlessness flashed through her mind—men disappearing, businesses burning to the ground.
But instead of exploding, Adrian walked to the window, staring out at the expansive estate.
"You know nothing of my world," he said quietly. "Six months ago, a vehicle carrying my sons was shot at on the interstate. They survived because the glass was armored. Their mother died because she wasn't in an armored car. Every boundary I set, every rule I enforce, is to keep them alive. If they grow up soft, they die."
Claire’s anger deflated, replaced by a heavy wave of empathy. She walked up behind him, stopping just short of touching his arm.
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"There is a difference between being strong and being hollow, Adrian," she said softly, using his first name for the first time. "If you hollow them out completely, there won't be anything left of them to protect."
Adrian didn't look at her, but his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. "You have twenty-four hours left, Claire. Don't make me regret letting you stay."
