Chapter 1 - The Punch That Saved His LifeThe sound of my fist connecting with Adrian Duca’s jaw cracked through his Tribeca penthouse like a gunshot.
His head snapped sideways.
The cognac glass flew from his hand and shattered against the marble fireplace.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then three armed guards stormed into the room.
“Down!”
A hand caught my shoulder.
A boot struck behind my knees.
I hit the Persian rug hard enough to lose my breath.
Cold steel pressed against the back of my skull.
I had just punched Adrian Duca.
Not shoved him.
Not slapped him.
Punched him hard enough to split his lip.
And in New York, men had disappeared for much less.
Adrian slowly turned toward me.
Thirty-eight. Tall. Black suit. Open collar. Dark hair swept back from a face that appeared on business magazines whenever Duca Development opened another billion-dollar tower.
A tattoo disappeared beneath his collar and another crossed the back of his hand.
Publicly, Adrian was a billionaire developer.
Privately, people lowered their voices when they said his name.
He touched his bleeding lip.
“Give me one reason,” he said quietly, “why I shouldn’t let them carry you out in pieces.”
The guard pushed me harder into the floor.
“The drink.”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change.
“What?”
“He poisoned your drink.”
Silence.
Then Vincent Rizzo laughed.
Vincent stood beside the wet bar, silver-haired and perfectly composed.
He had worked for Adrian for almost twenty years.
“She’s panicking,” Vincent said. “She attacks you, realizes what she’s done, and invents a story.”
“I saw you.”
His eyes moved toward me.
I swallowed.
“You dropped something into Mr. Duca’s cognac.”
Vincent smiled.
“Did you?”
“A capsule.”
“You’re a maid.”
“I have eyes.”
The guard pressed the gun harder against my head.
Adrian raised one hand.
“Enough.”
The pressure disappeared.
He looked at the shattered cognac spreading across the marble.
“Call Kline.”
Vincent’s smile vanished.
“Adrian.”
“Call him.”
“You cannot seriously believe her.”
Adrian looked at him.
“I believe chemistry.”
Ten minutes later, Dr. Martin Kline entered carrying a medical case.
Nobody spoke while he collected the spilled liquor.
I remained on my knees.
Vincent remained beside the bar.
Adrian stood by the windows with Manhattan glittering behind him.
Kline added a reagent to the sample.
The liquid turned violet.
His face drained of color.
“What is it?” Adrian asked.
“Aconitine.”
Nobody moved.
Kline looked at him.
“Highly concentrated. One sip could cause fatal cardiac arrhythmia within minutes.”
Vincent’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Adrian moved first.
A muffled shot cracked through the penthouse.
Vincent collapsed against the wet bar.
I screamed.
Adrian holstered his weapon.
“Take him out.”
Two guards dragged Vincent away.
I stared at the blood on Adrian’s lip.
Then at the broken glass.
Then at the door.
I wanted to run.
Adrian approached instead.
“What’s your name?”
“You know my name.”
“I know what the cleaning company calls you.”
He crouched.
“I asked what you call yourself.”
“Cara Jenkins.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-four.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Four months.”
“And during those four months?”
“I cleaned.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
His mouth almost formed a smile.
“Except tonight.”
I looked away.
“Except tonight.”
Adrian stood.
“You saved my life.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“That isn’t what concerns me.”
“I’ll quit.”
“No.”
“I’ll disappear.”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“I’m just a maid.”
“Vincent controlled access to half my organization. If he betrayed me, I don’t know who else has.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“You noticed something six armed men missed.”
“Because I was cleaning your study.”
“And right now, you are the only person in this building I know wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
“My brother.”
Adrian’s expression sharpened.
“What about him?”
“He’s sick.”
“How sick?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He glanced toward one of his guards.
“Find out.”
My blood went cold.
“No.”
The guard stopped.
“Leave Toby out of this.”
Adrian studied me.
“Your brother’s name is Toby?”
I realized my mistake.
“He needs me.”
“What does he have?”
I said nothing.
Adrian waited.
“Cystic fibrosis.”
Something changed in his expression.
Almost nothing.
But I saw it.
“He’s at Mount Sinai,” I continued. “There’s a treatment his doctors want to try.”
“How much?”
I hated answering.
“Almost three hundred thousand.”
“After insurance?”
“They denied it.”
Adrian turned to his guard.
“Get her brother’s full name. Hospital. Doctor. Account numbers. Everything.”
My heart stopped.
“What are you doing?”
Adrian looked back at me.
“Paying my debt.”
“I didn’t save you for money.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t leave debts unpaid.”
“That’s not your decision.”
His eyes held mine.
“It became my decision when you punched me in the face.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression hardened.
“When?”
A pause.
“Lock the building.”
He disconnected.
“What happened?” I asked.
Adrian looked toward the guards.
“Vincent wasn’t working alone.”
May you like
Then he looked directly at me.
“And whoever helped him knows Cara saw everything.”
