Chapter 5 - THE NEW ASSIGNMENT
-5
The revelation hit Tessa like a physical blow. Her brother was free, but she was anchored deeper than ever into the machinery of the Romano syndicate, bound by a contract she had signed without reading the fine print during her desperation three months ago.
Before she could process the full terror of her situation, the heavy doors of the study swung open without a knock.
Paulie marched into the room, his thick neck rigid, his face dark with suppressed urgency. He stopped short when he saw Tessa sitting across the desk eating brioche, a look of profound shock flickering across his rough features before he quickly masked it with professional coldness.
“Boss,” Paulie grunted, nodding stiffly toward Victor. “We got a situation down at the West Side docks. The shipments from the Italian freighter are held up by harbor inspectors. They’re asking for an increased envelope, and the port captain is threatening to impound the containers.”
Victor’s relaxed posture vanished instantly. The CEO of the underworld reemerged, his face hardening into granite. He stood up, wincing slightly as his shoulder pulled against the stitches, and buttoned his black suit jacket over his shirt.
“Tell them the envelope is doubled, but if those containers aren't cleared by noon, I’ll personally drop the port captain into the Chicago River with a concrete anchor,” Victor ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal register.
“Already handled the threat,” Paulie replied, though his eyes drifted sideways toward Tessa with visible suspicion. “Boss... are you sure you should be handling meetings today? You lost a lot of blood last night. Let me handle the dock run.”
“I’m fine, Paulie,” Victor snapped, walking around the desk. He stopped beside Tessa, looking down at her as she scrambled to her feet, clutching the silver tray to her chest like a shield.
Victor reached out, his large, calloused fingers gently brushing against her wrist. The touch sent a strange, electric shiver up her spine. He lifted the tray out of her hands, setting it back onto the desk.
“You’re done in the kitchens, Tessa,” Victor said, his dark eyes holding hers captive.
Paulie’s jaw dropped slightly. “Boss? She’s a scullery maid. If she’s not in the kitchen or scrubbing halls—”
“She is no longer in the kitchens,” Victor interrupted, never breaking eye contact with Tessa. “Effective immediately, Tessa is assigned as my personal administrative assistant and caretaker of the West Wing study. No more eighteen-hour shifts scrubbing baseboards. No more ammonia and bleach. Her duties are now restricted to this wing, and she answers only to me.”
The silence in the study was so absolute you could hear the logs crackling in the fireplace.
Paulie looked like he had been struck by lightning. “Boss, with all due respect, that’s a security violation! She’s an outsider! She knows where the ledgers are kept, she knows the layout of the private quarters—we don't even know her real background!”
“I know everything I need to know about her, Paulie,” Victor said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of absolute command. “And if I ever hear anyone in this house question my staffing decisions again, they won't have to worry about security violations because they won’t have a tongue left to speak with. Is that clear?”
Paulie swallowed hard, his face turning pale. He dipped his head stiffly. “Crystal clear, Boss.”
“Get the car ready. We leave for the docks in ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” Paulie shot one final, venomous glare at Tessa before turning on his heel and storming out of the study, slamming the heavy mahogany doors behind him.
Tessa stood frozen in the center of the room, her chest heaving. Personal assistant? Caretaker of the West Wing? It didn't make any sense. Men like Victor Romano didn't elevate debt-slaves to administrative positions out of charity. There was a reason—a dark, calculated strategy hidden behind his scarred facade.
“Why?” Tessa whispered, looking up at him as he adjusted his cuffs. “Why are you doing this?”
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Victor stopped, turning to face her. He stepped closer, towering over her, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that felt entirely too intimate.
“Because last night, when every instinct told me to put a bullet in the back of someone’s head, you kept me anchored to the living world instead,” Victor said quietly. “And in my world, Tessa... loyalty like that is the rarest currency of all.”
