"I fired every nurse until a night maid talked back—unaware she’d end up in my bed holding a dangerous secret."

Her wide brown eyes darted around the grand master suite—taking in the soaring oak ceilings, the high-tech medical monitors in the corner, and finally, the six-foot-two man sitting beside her in a dark silk robe, watching her with unblinking gray eyes.

"Oh my God," Emma gasped, her voice cracking in pure, unadulterated terror. She scrambled off the bed so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet, her face flushing a deep, burning crimson. "Mr. Hayes! I... I am so sorry! I was folding the linens in the adjoining washroom and... and my head felt dizzy... I sat down on the edge of the bed for just a second..."

She clutched her hands together, her knuckles trembling violently.

"Please don't fire me," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Please. My mother's facility... they raise the memory-care fee on the first of the month. If I lose this night shift—"

"Shut up, Emma," I said flatly.

She snapped her mouth shut, her shoulders tense, waiting for the explosive rage every other employee in the house had suffered.

I picked up the silver tray resting on my bedside table, pouring a glass of ice water, holding it out toward her.

"Drink," I commanded.

Emma blinked, staring at the glass, then at me. "What?"

"You're dehydrated, you haven't eaten in twelve hours, and you're shaking like a leaf," I said, my baritone calm and even. "Drink the water before you pass out on my floor and force me to haul you up myself."

She hesitated, then stepped forward with slow, tentative steps, taking the glass from my fingers. Her hands were ice-cold. She drank the water in three long gulps, wiping her mouth with the back of her cracked hand.

"Sit down," I pointed toward the leather armchair beside the bed.

"Mr. Hayes, I have to finish the baseboards in the east hallway—"

"I said sit down, Emma," I repeated, a subtle edge of my old authority slipping into my voice. "The baseboards aren't going anywhere. My house isn't going anywhere. Sit."

She swallowed hard and sat on the very edge of the leather chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap.

I looked at her for a long moment, taking in the frayed collar of her jacket and the worn soles of her shoes.

"Luke," I called out toward the open doorway.

Within two seconds, my second-in-command, Luke, stepped into the master suite. He wore his usual dark suit and shoulder holster, but his eyes widened in total, speech-bound shock as he saw the night cleaning girl sitting comfortably in the Don's private quarters while I sat unarmored in bed.

"Danny...?" Luke stammered. "Is everything alright?"

"Tell the kitchen to send up two full breakfast trays," I ordered. "Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and black coffee. And tell the head housekeeper that Emma’s cleaning hours are being moved to a fixed twelve-hour schedule with double pay."

Emma jumped out of her chair. "Mr. Hayes! You don't have to do that! I didn't ask for—"