Chapter 11 - The Siege On The Estate
“They’re coming here?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“They are already here,” Adrian said, pulling his sidearm from his shoulder holster.
The massive iron gates of the estate groaned loudly in the distance.
“Marco!” Adrian shouted into his radio. “We have uninvited guests. Lock down the east wing. Get Evie and Leo into the panic room beneath the library.”
Alarms began to blare throughout the mansion, a piercing red wail that made the walls vibrate.
“Come with me,” Adrian grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the kitchen.
We sprinted down the grand hallway. The beautiful mansion I had cleaned for ten months suddenly felt like a fortress under siege. Outside, the sound of tires screeching on gravel echoed through the morning air, followed by the terrifying pop-pop-pop of suppressed gunfire.
Adrian pushed me into his office and locked the heavy oak doors.
“Stay away from the windows,” he ordered, moving quickly to a hidden wall panel behind a painting. He punched in a code, and a hidden armory slid open. He tossed me a heavy Kevlar vest. “Put this on.”
“I don't know how to shoot!” I panicked, holding the heavy vest.
“You won't have to,” Adrian said, loading a tactical rifle. “You just have to stay alive.”
The glass of the office window shattered inward, raining shards across the Persian rug.
Adrian fired blindly into the gardens, shattering a stone statue. Someone yelled in Italian outside.
“They want the watch,” I said, clutching the wooden box to my chest. “Give it to them! Let them have the money!”
“It’s not just money, Sophie,” Adrian said, ducking as another bullet embedded itself into his mahogany desk. “The coordinates lead to a ledger that names every corrupt politician and judge my father bought. If the cartel gets it, they own Chicago.”
Suddenly, the office door was kicked open.
A tall man in a black tactical suit stepped in, raising a shotgun directly at Adrian’s back.
I didn't think. I acted on pure instinct.
I grabbed the heavy bronze lamp off the nearest table and hurled it with all my strength. It struck the man squarely in the face.
He stumbled backward, the shotgun blasting a hole into the ceiling.
Adrian spun around and fired twice. The man dropped to the floor, motionless.
Adrian looked at me, breathing heavily. “Nice throw.”
“I played softball in high school,” I gasped, my hands shaking.
Before we could catch our breath, Marco burst into the room. His arm was bleeding, but his eyes were victorious.
“Boss, the police are swarming the gates. We held them off long enough. The cartel rats are retreating.”
Adrian lowered his rifle. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant wail of police sirens.
We had survived.
An hour later, the police had secured the grounds. I was sitting on the leather sofa in the office, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
Adrian walked in. He had washed the dirt and gunpowder from his hands. He looked at the ruined office, then at me.
He walked over to his safe, opened it, and pulled out a small velvet box.
It wasn't the watch box.
He walked over and sat beside me, placing the velvet box on the coffee table.
“I bought this three months ago,” Adrian said quietly. “I thought I was supposed to marry a woman from my world. Someone who understood power. But I was blind.”
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He opened the box.
TITLE: Not A Maid Anymore
