Chapter 1 - The Shadow on the Marble FloorThe thunderstorm outside the grand estate in Long Island crashed against the high stained-glass windows, sending jagged bolts of blue light across the dark marble corridor.
My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird. I sat huddled on the freezing floor, my pale blue eyes wide with terror, my soft curves wrapped in a thin fleece blanket, clutching the brass fireplace poker against my chest until my knuckles turned stark white.
Adrian Moretti remained crouched flat in front of me at 3:19 A.M.
At thirty-seven, the head of the Moretti Crime Family was a terrifying sight to anyone in New York. Six-foot-five, built like a brick fortress, his broad chest and muscular arms covered in intricate black tattoos that snaked up his throat to his sharp, handsome jawline. His cold gray eyes could send senior syndicate bosses cowering into silence.
Yet right now, his eyes held no coldness for me. They burned with a deep, dark, terrifying fury directed entirely at the shadows of his own house.
"Repeat that, Claire," Adrian commanded softly, his voice dropping into a low, subsonic baritone that vibrated right through the marble beneath my bare feet. "Word for word."
"He... he was standing near the fire exit behind your study," I stammered, tears spilling over my lashes, my lower lip trembling violently. "Dean Russo was talking on an encrypted satellite phone. He told someone named Victor that the forty-seventh floor cameras and the perimeter motion sensors would be taken offline at midnight tomorrow. He said... he said your private elevator pass was already duplicated."
Adrian’s jaw locked into solid granite. The air around us seemed to drop into sub-zero freezing temperatures.
For three weeks, I had kept my head down in my fitted black maid’s dress, trying to earn enough money to pay off my late mother’s medical debts. I had tried to be invisible. But when Dean Russo—Adrian’s chief lieutenant—tried to force himself on me in the staff kitchen, and Adrian stepped in to humiliate him, Dean’s predatory eyes had turned lethal.
"He tried to scare you into staying in your quarters downstairs," Adrian realized, his gray eyes searching my face with an intense, unshakeable focus. "Because he knew if you wandered the upper halls at night, you might notice the security relays being tampered with."
"I... I was too scared to sleep down there," I whispered, holding my blanket tight over my fitted maid's uniform. "I knew no one would dare come near your bedroom door, Mr. Moretti. I didn't mean to intrude—"
Before I could finish, Adrian reached out.
His broad, warm, calloused hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear spilling down my cheek. The contrast between his immense, tattooed power and his tender touch made my breath hitch in my throat.
"You didn't intrude, sweetheart," Adrian swore, his voice an iron vow that shook the silent corridor. "You just saved my life. And you are never sleeping on a cold floor again."
He stood up, his massive six-foot-five frame towering into the dim light. He reached down, effortlessly sliding one broad arm under my knees and the other around my back, lifting me off the cold floor as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Mr. Moretti!" I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck, smelling the scent of cedarwood, rain, and expensive bourbon on his skin.
Adrian carried me straight into his private master suite, kicking the heavy oak doors shut behind us. He walked across the vast, luxurious room, placing me gently onto his massive king-sized bed, pulling his soft silk duvet over my lap.
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He reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a sleek, black custom sidearm, flipping the safety off with a sharp, lethal click.
"Stay inside this room, Claire," Adrian ordered smoothly, looking down at me with an unshakeable, protective flame in his gray eyes. "My private tactical team is taking Dean Russo into custody in thirty seconds."
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