Chapter 5 - BEHIND THE GILDED DOORS
Three days later, Leo was moved to a private, heavily fortified recovery suite on the top floor of Massachusetts General Hospital, guarded around the clock by Raphael's elite men. But Josephine was not allowed to return to the servant quarters on the third floor of the Orsini estate.
Instead, when the black SUV rolled through the iron gates of the Providence manor, Raphael led her straight through the grand marble foyer, past the grand staircase, and into the master wing on the second floor—a wing forbidden to all staff for over a decade.
Mrs. Roz was standing by the entrance to the master suite, holding a freshly tailored cashmere dress and a pair of soft slippers.
"Mrs. Roz," Josephine stammered, stepping back. "I can't be in this wing. My uniform is in the basement laundry—"
"Child," Mrs. Roz interrupted with a warm, tearful smile, placing the soft fabric into Josephine's hands. "You will not be wearing that gray uniform in this house ever again."
"Raphael, please," Josephine turned to him, bewildered. "I am your maid. I have duties—"
"You were my maid," Raphael corrected her, loosening his tie as he entered the expansive study connected to the master bedroom. "As of this morning, Arturo Valenti knows your face. He knows your brother is under my protection. If you step outside these walls without an armed escort, you become a target. You stay here."
"As what? A prisoner?"
Raphael paused, turning to face her. The golden afternoon light poured through the tall leaded windows, catching the amber flecks in her brown eyes. For two years, she had kept her head bowed whenever he passed. Now, looking directly into his gaze, there was no subservience in her—only a fierce, desperate pride.
"As my guest," Raphael said softly. "As the only person in this godforsaken house who reached out to save me while I was driving her through the dark."
The air between them grew thick, charged with an intensity that had nothing to do with mafia wars or gunfights. Josephine stepped closer, her voice barely above a breath.
"You think you're a monster, Raphael. I’ve seen the files on your desk. I know what people say about the Orsini family. But that night, you saved a boy who was nothing to you."
"He was everything to you," Raphael countered, taking a step toward her until the distance between them vanished. "Which makes him my responsibility."
He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheekbone, wiping away a stray strand of hair. Josephine’s breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. Her pulse raced beneath his touch.
"Raphael..."
Before he could answer, the heavy mahogany doors of the study flew open.
Marco Morello—Raphael’s second-in-command and the capo of the Rhode Island docks—stood in the doorway, flanked by two lieutenants. His eyes widened in shock, then darkened with visible disgust as he took in the sight of his boss standing intimately with a servant.
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"Don Raphael," Marco said, his voice laced with venomous disrespect. "The Commission has called an emergency council. They heard you started a street war in Boston over a maid's dying bastard."
***
