Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN IN HIS ARMSVictor Romano stared down at the woman sleeping on his chest.
For several seconds, he did not move.
The pistol remained in his right hand.
Its barrel was still pressed against the back of Tessa Moore.
He had killed men for less than what this woman had done.
She had entered his private study without permission.
Touched him while he was vulnerable.
Climbed onto his body.
And, somehow, fallen asleep.
Victor slowly lowered the gun.
His expression hardened.
Who was she?
He knew every employee in the Romano estate.
Not personally.
But he knew their names.
Their records.
Their families.
Their debts.
Their secrets.
He knew which guards drank.
Which cooks had gambling problems.
Which servants had relatives working for rival families.
Yet the young woman sleeping on his chest remained strangely unfamiliar.
Her breathing was soft.
Steady.
Her fingers were still curled weakly into his shirt.
Victor looked down at her uniform.
Gray housekeeping dress.
Cheap shoes.
A small embroidered tag.
TESSA.
His eyes narrowed.
The name meant nothing.
That bothered him more than it should have.
He gently shifted his injured shoulder.
Pain exploded through his body.
His jaw tightened.
The movement woke Tessa.
Her eyes opened halfway.
She looked at the ceiling.
Then Victor.
Then the arm around her waist.
Then the gun in his hand.
Her face drained of color.
Victor watched the transformation carefully.
Fear.
Confusion.
Then absolute horror.
“Oh my God.”
She tried to move.
Victor's arm tightened automatically.
“Don't.”
She froze.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you in my study?”
“I was cleaning.”
“At three in the morning?”
“My shift ended earlier.”
“So?”
Tessa swallowed.
“So I was told to clean the mess.”
Victor looked at the Persian rug.
The broken crystal had been collected.
The bourbon stain was nearly gone.
“You fell asleep.”
“I know.”
“On me.”
Her cheeks burned.
“I didn't mean to.”
Victor stared at her.
Few people dared look uncomfortable around him.
Most people were terrified.
This woman looked embarrassed.
It was almost insulting.
“You should be afraid.”
Tessa's eyes lifted to his.
“I am.”
“Not enough.”
“I’m more tired than afraid.”
Silence.
Victor had no answer for that.
He slowly released her.
Tessa immediately slid backward, practically falling off the sofa.
She stood, smoothed her uniform and kept her head lowered.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Romano.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
Victor expected trembling.
Instead, he saw exhaustion.
Nothing else.
“Who do you work for?”
She blinked.
“You.”
“That's not what I meant.”
She hesitated.
“Housekeeping.”
“What is your full name?”
“Tessa Moore.”
Victor's eyes sharpened.
“Moore?”
“Yes.”
“Any relation to Liam Moore?”
The color vanished from her face.
Victor noticed.
He always noticed.
“My brother.”
That single sentence changed the atmosphere.
Victor's voice became colder.
“Leave.”
Tessa stiffened.
“Sir?”
“Leave the room.”
She grabbed her bucket.
Then Victor spoke again.
“Not the house.”
She stopped.
“Come back tomorrow morning.”
Her fingers tightened around the handle.
“For what?”
Victor looked directly at her.
“To discuss your brother.”
Tessa's stomach twisted.
She knew what that meant.
Liam's debt.
The reason she had come to this house.
The reason she worked eighteen-hour shifts.
The reason she had surrendered every last piece of dignity she possessed.
Victor knew.
And now he was interested.
Tessa left.
The door closed.
Victor remained alone.
He looked down at the place where her head had rested against his chest.
Then something caught his attention.
A tiny dark mark had appeared on the white fabric of his shirt.
Not blood.
Ink.
He touched it.
Then his expression changed.
Because beneath the ink was a shape.
A symbol.
Three intersecting lines inside a circle.
Victor had seen that symbol before.
Not in his house.
Not in his business.
Not in his city.
In a photograph taken fourteen years ago.
A photograph connected to the murder of his father.
Victor stood immediately.
Pain be damned.
He crossed the room and opened the locked drawer beneath his desk.
Inside was an old photograph.
His father's body had been found beside the river.
The same symbol had been carved into the wall behind him.
Victor stared at the mark on his shirt.
Then at the photograph.
His face turned cold.
Tessa Moore had accidentally fallen asleep on his chest.
But someone had deliberately placed that symbol on her.
May you like
And suddenly Victor was no longer wondering who she was.
He was wondering who had sent her.
