Chapter 6 - Unspoken Rules
The transition from invisible waitress to Margaret Weston’s right hand was drastic.
Elena no longer wore a black apron. She wore sharp, understated tailored suits paid for by the Weston estate. She moved into a private suite in the Weston family compound in the Gold Coast neighborhood.
Her days were spent with Margaret. They visited art galleries, attended private symphonies, and drank tea in the sprawling gardens. Elena learned that Margaret had once been the fiercest woman in the syndicate, a matriarch who kept the family together through bloody wars in the 1980s.
But it was the evenings that changed the most.
Garrett was there. He joined them for dinner at the estate every night he was in town. Without Madison’s suffocating presence, the atmosphere shifted.
Garrett began to talk. He asked Elena about her grandmother in Guadalajara. He asked her about the books she read in the garden. He listened to her opinions with an intensity that made Elena’s pulse race.
One evening, after Margaret had retired to bed, Elena was in the estate’s massive library, searching for a book. The heavy oak doors clicked shut. She turned to see Garrett leaning against the doorframe, a glass of bourbon in his hand. He had discarded his jacket and tie; his collar was open, revealing the faint edge of a dark tattoo on his collarbone.
“You look exhausted,” he noted, walking into the room.
“Margaret has a lot of energy when she isn't being suppressed,” Elena smiled slightly.
Garrett stopped a few feet away from her. The dim light of the library cast deep shadows across his face. “I owe you a debt I can never repay, Elena. Not just for protecting her. But for bringing her back to life.”
“You don't owe me anything. She’s easy to care for.”
“I owe you,” he insisted, his voice dropping an octave. He took another step closer. The scent of his cologne—cedar and something sharp and metallic—filled her senses. “I spent two years looking past you. I look at you now, and I can't look away.”
Elena’s breath hitched. “Garrett...”
“I know the rules,” he said, his eyes tracing the line of her jaw. “I am a dangerous man. You are a good woman. The worlds shouldn't mix. But they already have.”
He reached out slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. When she didn't, his knuckles gently brushed against her cheek. His skin was warm, his touch remarkably gentle for hands that controlled so much violence.
Before the moment could escalate, a sharp knock on the library door shattered the quiet.
Thomas opened the door, his face grim. “Boss. We have a problem. The Cole family isn't taking the broken alliance well. They just hit two of our shipments at the docks.”
Garrett’s hand dropped. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by the ice-cold glare of the boss. The man who had been soft a moment ago was gone, replaced by the architect of a skyline of crime.
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“Lock down the estate,” Garrett ordered. He looked at Elena, his expression tight. “Do not let my mother out of your sight.”
He walked out, leaving the library suddenly very cold.
