Chapter 19

Delilah, feeling a mix of pride and exhaustion, decided it was time to retreat to the bedroom for some much-needed rest. 

The ceremony downstairs was still in full swing, but she needed a moment to herself. 

As she walked through the quiet corridors of the mansion, the thought of Marco’s new role as Capo swirled in her mind. 

With it came a sense of responsibility, not just for him, but for her too. She wasn’t sure what this new chapter would demand from her.

When she reached the bedroom, she quietly opened the door, expecting to find the space empty and inviting. Instead, what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Mrs. Hayden, the housekeeper, was standing by the bed, holding Delilah’s large black book—the book!

The one where Delilah had jotted down notes about her clients' gory requests. 

It wasn’t just any book—it was private, and Mrs. Hayden had it open, her eyes scanning its pages with a focused intensity.

"Mrs. Hayden, what are you doing?" Delilah’s voice cut through the silence, sharp but controlled.

Mrs. Hayden jumped, startled by Delilah’s sudden presence. 

She fumbled with the book, hurriedly closing it as if it had burned her fingers. 

Her face turned pale, and she began to stammer, the words spilling out in a messy rush.

"Oh, I-I… I was just— I didn’t mean to— I was… I was just straightening up, you know, the luggage... and this was... um… open, so I was just, uh, making sure it was... you know… closed."

Delilah’s brows furrowed deeply as she stepped further into the room, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

Why had Mrs. Hayden been so engrossed in that book? 

It wasn’t something one would casually flip through. Not unless they were looking for something.

"What were you reading in my book?" Delilah asked, her tone calm but firm, as she approached Mrs. Hayden.

"Oh, I wasn’t— I mean, I didn’t really read anything," Mrs. Hayden stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the book to her chest. "I-I was just arranging the luggage that Gino and his men had brought in. That’s all."

Delilah stopped in front of her, her gaze firm. "It’s fine, Mrs. Hayden. I’ll take care of the rest."

Mrs. Hayden nodded quickly, still holding the book tightly as if reluctant to give it up. 

Delilah’s eyes flicked to the book before meeting the housekeeper’s gaze again. "You should also hand over the book."

There was a pause—brief but telling—before Mrs. Hayden reluctantly extended the book toward Delilah. 

Her hands shook as she handed it over. "Of course, signora," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I just remembered… there’s something urgent I need to attend to."

Before Delilah could respond, Mrs. Hayden spun on her heels and rushed out of the room, almost tripping over the doorframe in her haste. 

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Delilah standing there, staring down at the black book now resting in her hands.

For a long moment, Delilah wondered if Mrs. Hayden had actually read anything. 

The thought gnawed at her. 

If the housekeeper had seen the contents—if she had read about the violent, bloody requests from some of Delilah’s clients—would she report it to Marco? 

And if Marco knew, would he tell her aunt, Mary? 

The idea of that information being passed around unsettled her, but she quickly brushed the thought aside.

She couldn’t dwell on that now.

Delilah tossed the book onto the bed, sighing as she did. 

It landed with a soft thud, barely making a sound against the plush comforter. She had other things to focus on. 

With a shake of her head, she moved to the luggage that still needed to be unpacked.

Working quietly, she began organizing her things, neatly folding clothes and placing them in the dresser she had claimed as her own. 

She had already chosen her side of the bed, the one closest to the large window overlooking the estate. 

It felt right, somehow, to have her own little corner in this vast, intimidating mansion. 

Her side, her space.

---

Delilah had barely unpacked and made the space her own when the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with her.

The soft sheets, cool against her skin, lulled her into a half-dreaming state. 

She had just started drifting off when the sound of the door creaking open pulled her back. 

Her eyes flashed open, instinctively alert, her gaze landing on the silhouette of long legs moving into the room.

"I was very quiet," Marco's voice came through, low and calm, as if he hadn’t meant to wake her.

Delilah, still on edge from being outside the familiarity of her apartment, turned to the other side of the bed, not acknowledging his comment. 

The room had grown quieter, and that’s when she realized it was raining softly outside. 

The sound of the raindrops tapping against the window sent a shiver down her spine. 

She hated the rain. 

She hadn’t liked it for five years now—ever since that night. 

The memories it stirred were ones she’d long fought to forget.

The mattress dipped beside her, a slight sinking feeling telling her that Marco had settled in next to her. 

She could feel the heat of him, even though there was a small gap between their bodies. 

The warmth radiated toward her, an unmistakable presence, making it feel as though he was much closer than he actually was.

Curious, Delilah shifted and turned toward his side of the bed, only to find him already staring at her, wearing a pair of dark, sleek pajamas. 

They fit him perfectly, accentuating his toned body even in their simplicity.

"Who says he's not handsome even in those?" she thought to herself, noting how the relaxed fit still managed to make him look impossibly attractive. 

He somehow looked even more handsome when dressed down, which she quickly brushed off with a shake of her head.

Unbeknownst to her, Marco’s thoughts mirrored hers. 

His eyes roamed over Delilah, taking in how the soft, silky fabric of her nightgown clung to her curves, hinting at the skin underneath. 

The nightgown had a subtle transparency to it, just enough to tease but not reveal too much, and the elegant neckline framed her face beautifully.

He swallowed, his thoughts veering toward her beauty, not just physically, but the strength he saw in her every day. 

Yet as his eyes trailed along the curve of her body, he couldn’t help but feel the desire to reach out, to explore the softness of her skin, to pull her close.