Chapter 10 - THE NEW CHATELAINE
-10
Three days had passed since the blood was washed off the floor of the Halsted warehouse.
Life inside the Marchetti estate had resumed its terrifying, immaculate rhythm, but the staff whispered that things were different. The brutal, ice-queen shadow of Camilla Ashford was gone—her father, Senator Ashford, had quietly checked her into a private European wellness clinic after Enzo publicly released the audio recordings of her attempting to frame an innocent girl.
And Adeline Croft no longer wore the French maid’s uniform.
Instead, she sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table on the third floor, dressed in a sleek charcoal pantsuit that mirrored the understated elegance of the estate. Spread out before her were shipping manifests, dock security logs, and financial audit reports from the newly acquired Halsted terminals.
Mrs. Higgins, the head housekeeper who had once warned her with a shake of her head, now stood respectfully by her side, pouring fresh coffee into a fine porcelain cup.
“The inventory for the grain storage is complete, Miss Adeline,” Mrs. Higgins reported, her tone carrying a newfound, absolute deference. “The dock foremen have all signed their loyalty oaths to the new management structure. Not a single union worker walked off the job.”
“Good,” Adeline said, not looking up from her tablet. “Tell the foremen I’m doubling the hazardous-duty bonus for the night shift starting tonight. My father knew what those men went through in the winter; I won't have them exploited the way Viktor exploited them.”
“Right away, Miss Adeline,” Mrs. Higgins murmured, bowing slightly before exiting the room.
The heavy oak doors opened again a moment later, and Enzo walked in. He looked relaxed, his jacket off, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the intricate dragon ink. He walked behind Adeline’s chair, leaning down to glance at the screen of her tablet.
“Doubling the hazardous-duty bonus?” Enzo murmured, a faint amusement playing in his dark eyes. “You’re going to bankrupt my shipping empire before the month is out, Adeline.”
“I’m stabilizing your workforce, Mr. Marchetti,” Adeline retorted smoothly, turning her head to meet his gaze. “Happy stevedores don't leak information to rival syndicates. It’s basic economics.”
Enzo chuckled—a deep, rich sound that rarely escaped him in public. He straightened up, walking over to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of whiskey.
“You’ve adapted to your new position remarkably fast,” Enzo observed, taking a slow sip. “A week ago, you were scrubbing marble floors to hide your identity. Now you’re running my most volatile logistics hub.”
“Necessity is a wonderful teacher,” Adeline replied, standing up and closing her tablet. She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the sprawling estate gardens where the morning frost was beginning to melt under the pale sun. “What happens now, Enzo? We eliminated Viktor, we acquired his docks, and Camilla is halfway across the Atlantic. Are we business partners, or am I still your guest?”
Enzo finished his whiskey, set the crystal glass down on the sideboard, and crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing just behind her. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You were never my guest, Adeline,” Enzo said softly, his voice dropping into that low, magnetic register. “And you certainly aren't my employee anymore.”
Adeline turned around, her stormy gray eyes locking onto his. “Then what am I?”
Enzo reached out, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin with surprising tenderness.
“You’re the only person in Chicago smart enough, cold enough, and brave enough to stand beside me,” Enzo said. “The engagement party was a disaster, Adeline. But the ring... the ring is still in my safe.”
Adeline’s breath caught in her throat. The man standing in front of her wasn't just a criminal mastermind; he was the apex predator of the city, a man who commanded fear from senators and judges alike. And yet, looking into his eyes, she saw no threats—only an invitation to rule an empire by his side.
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“Are you proposing to me over shipping manifests and coffee, Mr. Marchetti?” she asked, a faint, challenging smile touching her lips.
“I’m offering you a crown, Adeline,” Enzo corrected, his dark eyes burning with absolute certainty. “The question is... do you have the stomach to wear it?”
