Chapter 4 - THE RECEIVING ROOM
The ground-floor receiving room was windowless, its walls lined with dark oak panels and iron storage racks.
Underneath the harsh glare of overhead fluorescent tubes, Elena Whitlock stood with her arms crossed, tapping a high-heeled shoe against the concrete floor.
"What is the meaning of this, Rafe?" she demanded as the heavy steel door swung open.
"Abel pulled me out of my bed in the middle of the night like a common criminal! Some ridiculous nonsense about a waitress—"
She stopped talking.
Rafael Santoro walked into the room.
He didn't look at her.
His dark eyes were fixed on the doorway behind Abel, where Marin Hollis stood hesitating in the threshold.
Marin wore her plain black service uniform, her hair tied back in a simple bun.
The bright red mark of Elena's hand was still faintly visible across her left cheekbone.
"Come in, Marin," Rafe said.
His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of an absolute command.
Marin stepped inside, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.
She kept her left hand tucked firmly behind her back.
"Is this the little rat?" Elena scoffed, stepping forward with a haughty tilt of her chin.
"She dropped a tray, Rafe! She's incompetent! I only taught her some manners since apparently her parents failed to do so!"
Rafe turned his head slowly.
He looked at Elena.
His gaze was so cold that Elena actually took half a step backward, the words dying in her throat.
"You struck her," Rafe stated.
"She dropped the silver! She—"
"You struck someone who was not allowed to strike back," Rafe interrupted.
His voice did not rise.
It remained frighteningly flat.
"She is a member of my staff, Elena. In this house, my staff are under my personal protection."
"She's a hired servant!" Elena shrieked, her composure finally cracking as panic flared in her eyes.
"I am your fiancée! We are getting married in two months! You're humiliating me over a dishwasher?!"
Rafe didn't blink.
He walked past Elena as though she were nothing more than a piece of furniture, stopping directly in front of Marin Hollis.
He reached out.
Very slowly, so as not to startle her, he lifted his hand and gently touched the red mark on her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Marin flinched, her breath catching in her throat.
Her eyes darted upward for a single second, meeting Rafe's dark, searching gaze.
And in that fraction of a second, Rafael Santoro saw something in her eyes that made his blood run cold.
It wasn't just fear.
It was recognition.
The recognition of a person who had spent their entire life hiding from monsters.
Rafe lowered his hand.
He turned back toward Elena, whose face had gone completely white.
"Abel," Rafe said without looking back.
"Sir?"
"Pack Miss Whitlock's belongings."
Elena let out a choked gasp.
"You can't do this! My father will destroy you! The Whitlock shipping lines—"
"The Whitlock shipping lines," Rafe whispered, "will be liquidated by morning."
He looked at Abel.
"Escort her off the property. And make sure she never sets foot in this city again."
Elena screamed—a sharp, piercing sound of absolute disbelief and rage—as Abel grabbed her arm firmly and hauled her toward the door.
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind them.
Silence returned to the receiving room.
Only Rafe and Marin remained under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Marin stood frozen, her hands trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her black apron.
Rafe took one step closer to her.
"What is your full name?" he asked softly.
"Marin Hollis, sir," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Rafe shook his head slowly.
"No," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"That's the name on your employment badge."
He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the small brass key tag he had noticed earlier, and held it up between his fingers.
"Tell me your real name, Marin."
May you like
Marin stared at the brass tag in his hand, and for the first time all night, all the color drained entirely from her face.
THE END OF CHAPTER 4
