Chapter 1 - The Morning After
His hand moved instantly to his waist, searching for the cold steel that was not there.
Only when the scent of cheap lavender soap and old paper filled his lungs did his muscles relax.
Arthur Moretti was still on the lumpy mattress in the servant’s quarters.
Clara stood across the small room.
Her gray maid’s uniform was immaculate.
Her hair was pulled into the same tight, utilitarian bun she wore every single day.
She looked entirely unbothered by the fact that the city’s most dangerous man had just spent the night in her bed.
Arthur sat up slowly, feeling the brutal ache in his skull from the scotch.
He looked down at his right hand.
The knuckles were perfectly wrapped in clean white gauze.
The memory of her warm fingers touching his skin rushed back, cutting through the fog of his hangover.
“You didn’t wake anyone,” Clara said, keeping her voice low.
“The shift change happens in ten minutes.”
“If you leave now, you can take the service stairs to your private elevator without being seen.”
Arthur stared at her.
He was accustomed to women who clung, women who asked questions, women who tried to use his moments of weakness as leverage.
Clara just wanted him out before her supervisor caught her.
He stood up, his massive frame dwarfing the small room.
He buttoned his ruined shirt, his dark eyes never leaving her face.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice a rough gravel.
“I was doing my job, Mr. Moretti,” she replied smoothly.
“Keeping the estate clean.”
Arthur paused at the door.
He knew it was a lie.
She had not cleaned a mess; she had anchored a drowning man.
He stepped out into the dark hallway, moving like a ghost through the shadows.
When he reached his penthouse suite, his second-in-command, Enzo, was already waiting.
Enzo’s sharp eyes immediately dropped to the white gauze on Arthur’s hand.
“We had a problem last night, boss?” Enzo asked, his hand hovering near his jacket.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Arthur replied coldly, walking past him to pour a black coffee.
“The hit on the docks went perfectly, but the men were wondering where you disappeared to.”
“I do not report my movements to my men, Enzo.”
The warning in Arthur’s voice was absolute.
Enzo bowed his head slightly, stepping back.
“Of course, boss.”
“I’ll have the car ready in an hour.”
Arthur nodded, but his mind was not on the hostile takeover planned for the afternoon.
His mind was on the ground floor, lingering in a room that smelled of lavender.
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He had built a fortress of isolation to protect his empire.
Now, a girl with a mop had accidentally found the back door in.
