Chapter 5 - SECRETS IN THE WEST WING
The estate was on lockdown. The bodies had been cleared away before sunrise, leaving only the sharp smell of bleach on the marble floors. Clara awoke in a sprawling, dark bedroom that definitely wasn't her cramped nanny quarters.
It was the West Wing. Julian’s private sanctuary.
She sat up, wincing at the bandage on her head. Julian was sitting in a leather armchair in the corner, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, watching her. He had taken off his jacket; his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing skin marred by scars.
"The Moretti family," Julian said, his voice flat, staring into his glass. "They want my territory. Three years ago, they realized they couldn't kill me. So they went after my wife. Now, they want my heirs."
Clara pulled the silk sheets up. "Why are you telling me this? The NDA—"
"Screw the NDA," Julian snapped, standing up. He paced the room like a caged panther. "You saved my children, Clara. You put yourself between them and a bullet. I’ve had guards on my payroll for a decade who wouldn't have done that."
He walked over to the bed, looking down at her. The proximity made Clara’s breath hitch. He smelled of gunpowder, expensive cologne, and exhaustion.
"I'm doubling your pay. Tripling it. Whatever you want," Julian said, his eyes dropping to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her eyes again. "But I'm sending you away. To Switzerland. With the twins. It's too dangerous here."
"No," Clara said.
Julian blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Toby and Bella don't need a bunker in Switzerland. They need their father," Clara said, her voice trembling but fierce. "They think you hate them because you're never there. I'm not taking them away so you can die in a mob war."
Julian leaned in close, his hands gripping the mattress on either side of her hips. "You don't know what you're dealing with, little bird. I am not a good man."
"Then try being a good father," she whispered back.
May you like
The air between them crackled, heavy and thick. For a moment, Clara thought he might kiss her. Instead, he closed his eyes, let out a ragged breath, and stepped back. "Get some rest, Clara. Tomorrow, the real war begins."
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