"I found my 'dead' mother's photo under a Las Vegas mafia boss's pillow—and on the back, she wrote six terrifying words." / Chapter 3 / 7

Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary Beneath the MarbleAdrian grabbed my hand, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around mine with an iron grip that pulled me effortlessly through the smoke-filled master suite toward a concealed bookshelf in his private study.

He tapped a six-digit code into a hidden keypad behind a leather volume.

The heavy oak bookcase swung inward with a soft pneumatic hiss, revealing a brightly lit, steel-reinforced private elevator.

Caleb slammed the heavy study doors shut, locking the steel deadbolts as gunfire hammered against the wood outside. "Elevator’s clear, Boss! Take her down! I'll hold the landing!"

"Don't lose the landing, Caleb," Adrian ordered, pushing me into the elevator before stepping in beside me.

The heavy steel doors sealed shut, cutting off the deafening sound of gunfire and alarms.

The elevator descended rapidly, three floors below the estate's foundation, into the subterranean rock beneath Las Vegas.

I stood against the mirrored wall of the elevator, my chest heaving, my black apron stained with drywall dust, staring at the man beside me.

"You knew," I whispered, tears of confusion and rage burning in my hazel eyes. "You knew who I was the second I stepped onto that stage at Velvet Noir."

Adrian stood tall, his pistol at his side, looking at his reflection in the glass.

"I didn't just know who you were, Elena," Adrian confessed softly. "I built Velvet Noir three years ago specifically to find you. I put out word across the West Coast that I was looking for a woman matching your description."

"Why didn't you just tell me?!" I cried out. "Why make me wear a mask? Why make me a maid?!"

"Because Victor Vance had eyes in every police precinct and private agency in Nevada," Adrian explained, turning to face me, his gray eyes shining with an overwhelming, unreserved devotion. "If I brought you to this house as Elena Carter, his hitmen would have killed you before sunrise. The maid uniform... the black mask... it was the only way to hide the heiress of the Carter empire in plain sight."

DING.

The elevator doors slid open.

The subterranean bunker was not a cold, dark cellar. It was a sunlit, state-of-the-art medical and living suite built with warm wood paneling, plush sofas, and a garden terrace lit by full-spectrum sunlamps.

Sitting near the sunlit garden terrace, wearing a soft cream cashmere cardigan, holding a cup of tea, was a woman with soft dark hair, familiar hazel eyes, and a gentle smile.

My breath caught in my throat. My knees nearly buckled.