Chapter 1 - Before Lunch
Marco Duca knew something was wrong before he reached the kitchen.
Not because an alarm was sounding. An alarm would have been useful.
Every alarm in the mansion was perfectly silent. Every guard remained at his post. Every camera displayed exactly what it was supposed to display.
And sitting at Marco’s kitchen island, eating one of his pears, was a woman who had absolutely no business being there.
Marco stopped.
Behind him, Cal Foster stopped as well.
For 3 long seconds, the enormous kitchen was completely silent.
The woman was not.
She bit into the pear.
Crunch.
Marco’s eyes narrowed.
The sound somehow made the situation worse, because whoever she was, she was comfortable. Far too comfortable.
She sat with one curvy hip angled against the cream leather stool, one ankle crossed over the other. Dark trousers fitted neatly beneath a white blouse with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her hair was pinned loosely up, with a few dark curls escaping around her face.
A black coffee mug rested beside one hand.
A yellow folder sat beside the other.
She looked directly at Marco with the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Not even the ordinary discomfort people experienced when Marco Duca stared at them for longer than 4 seconds.
Amusement.
Interesting.
Potentially unwise.
Marco stepped into the room.
The woman smiled.
“Good morning.”
Cal remained behind him, silent. In 14 years working beside Marco, he had developed an extraordinary instinct for recognizing moments when participating in a conversation might shorten his life expectancy.
Marco’s attention moved slowly across the kitchen.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
No broken locks. No open windows. No shattered glass. No overturned furniture.
Nothing missing except, apparently, one pear.
His gaze returned to the woman.
“How did you get in?”
She glanced at the clock.
“11:37.”
Then she looked back at him.
A smile tugged at her mouth.
“Before lunch.”
Marco stared.
She took another bite.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I know.”
Marco’s jaw shifted.
Cal looked away.
The woman seemed to notice. Her eyes flicked toward him, then returned to Marco.
“Technically, you hired me to answer that question.”
Something changed.
Marco looked at the yellow folder, then at her face.
Recognition arrived.
“Tessa Morgan.”
She lifted the pear slightly in acknowledgment.
“Marco Duca.”
His expression remained unchanged.
Tessa’s did not.
“Good. We’ve identified each other.”
Cal made the mistake of breathing too loudly.
Marco glanced toward him.
Cal immediately looked at the refrigerator as though refrigeration technology had suddenly become fascinating.
Tessa Morgan, 32, was the owner and lead consultant of Morgan Security Consulting, specializing in private residential vulnerabilities, executive security audits, and penetration testing for wealthy clients who generally believed their homes were safer than they actually were.
Marco had reviewed her credentials himself.
Her references were excellent.
Her reputation was better.
Her fee was irritating.
He had approved it anyway.
3 days earlier, Cal had suggested an independent assessment of the Duca estate’s security. Marco had agreed, not because he expected her to find anything significant.
Quite the opposite.
The estate sat behind reinforced gates, layered surveillance, controlled access, professional guards, redundant systems, monitored interior zones, and several men whose entire careers depended on noticing people who were not supposed to be sitting in Marco Duca’s kitchen eating fruit.
Marco looked toward Cal.
Cal already knew.
“I’m reviewing it.”
Marco’s gaze hardened.
“You’re reviewing what?”
“How she got inside.”
Tessa took a sip of coffee.
Marco turned back toward her.
“You entered without being detected.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been sitting here how long?”
She considered the question.
“48 minutes.”
Silence.
Cal slowly turned his head.
Marco stared at her.
“48?”
“48.”
Not 4.
Not 8.
Tessa had apparently bypassed one of the most expensive private security systems in Chicago, entered the residence, found the kitchen, located coffee, selected fruit, and settled into a chair while approximately 12 trained security employees remained blissfully unaware that anything unusual had happened.
Marco looked at the mug.
“Is that my coffee?”
Tessa glanced at it.
“Probably.”
“You made coffee?”
“Yes.”
“In my kitchen.”
“That’s generally where I recommend making it.”
Cal’s mouth twitched.
Marco saw it.
“Cal.”
“Boss.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
Tessa looked between them, then nodded thoughtfully.
“You 2 have an interesting relationship.”
Marco ignored the comment.
His attention shifted toward the yellow folder.
“What is that?”
“My preliminary assessment.”
“You completed an assessment already?”
“Not completed.”
She pushed the folder toward him.
“Started.”
Marco did not immediately touch it.
The cover read:
Private Residential Security Assessment.
Below that:
Duca Estate.
And beneath those words, in Tessa’s handwriting:
Preliminary Score: 6/10.
Marco looked down.
Then up.
Then down again.
Tessa calmly finished chewing.
“6?”
“Yes.”
Marco stared at her.
Tessa waited.
Cal remained very still.
Marco tapped the folder once.
“Out of 10?”
Tessa’s eyebrows rose.
“Usually how that works.”
Cal turned away.
Marco’s head snapped toward him.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You turned away.”
“I was checking the door.”
“The door hasn’t moved.”
“Good security.”
Tessa laughed.
It was a warm, genuine laugh. Not polite. Not nervous. Not strategic.
She actually found this funny.
Marco looked at her, and for one inconvenient second, his irritation shifted slightly.
Her laugh changed her face.
The knowing expression disappeared. Her eyes brightened. Her shoulders softened.
And Marco had the deeply unhelpful realization that the woman currently humiliating his security operation was very attractive.
He rejected the information immediately.
There were priorities.
Security.
Property integrity.
The pear.
Especially the pear.
He opened the folder.
The first page contained photographs, timestamps, and observations. There were no dramatic claims, no smug paragraphs, only concise findings.
Human errors.
Complacent routines.
Poor assumptions.
Marco read silently.
One access procedure depended too heavily on familiarity.
One internal control had been left unchanged after recent work.
A staff routine had become predictable.
One monitoring process assumed someone else had already verified something.
Another relied on technology functioning perfectly, which technology rarely did.
Marco turned another page.
Then another.
The more he read, the less amusing the situation became.
Not because Tessa had exposed some spectacular flaw.
That would have been easier.
No.
She had found something worse.
Small weaknesses.
Ordinary weaknesses.
The sort people stopped seeing because nothing bad had happened.
Yet.
Marco looked at her.
“You didn’t defeat the system.”
Tessa smiled slightly.
“No.”
“You defeated people.”
“Habits.”
Marco said nothing.
Tessa leaned forward.
“You spent a fortune making this mansion difficult to enter.”
Her fingertip tapped the report.
“But expensive security has the same weakness cheap security has.”
Marco waited.
“People get comfortable.”
The humor in her expression faded.
Not completely.
Enough.
“You have good men.”
Cal looked at her.
“Good equipment.”
Marco remained silent.
“And enough redundancy to make most threats reconsider their career choices.”
That almost earned a smile.
Almost.
Then she continued.
“But everyone here believes someone else has already checked something.”
She tapped one of the photographs.
“That’s where mistakes start.”
Marco studied her.
The woman who had been joking over coffee 30 seconds earlier was gone.
This version of Tessa was focused and sharp. No theatrics. No boasting.
She knew exactly what she was talking about.
Marco felt his irritation acquire a very inconvenient companion.
Respect.
He preferred irritation.
Respect complicated things.
He closed the report.
“How did you enter?”
Tessa smiled again.
There it was.
“That’s page 12.”
Marco reopened the folder and flipped to page 12.
Blank.
He stared at it.
Then looked up.
Tessa took another sip of coffee.
“I’m still writing it.”
Cal lowered his head.
Marco inhaled slowly.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“You broke into my home.”
“You paid me to break into your home.”
“I paid you to test the security.”
Tessa gestured around them.
“Test complete.”
“Apparently not.”
Something shifted in Marco’s voice.
Tessa caught it.
So did Cal.
Marco put the folder down.
“Do it again.”
Tessa’s smile faded.
Not from fear.
Interest.
“What?”
“Tomorrow.”
Cal turned toward him.
Marco kept his eyes on Tessa.
“I fix the 6 weaknesses you found. Then you try again.”
Silence.
That, Tessa had not expected.
She studied him.
Not the feared name.
Not the expensive suit.
Not the tattoos disappearing beneath his collar.
Him.
Marco saw the assessment happening and disliked how much he enjoyed being the subject.
“You’re challenging me.”
“No.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m correcting a professional embarrassment.”
Cal coughed.
Marco looked at him.
“Something to add?”
“No, boss.”
Tessa smiled.
“Professional embarrassment seems accurate.”
Marco ignored her.
“Tomorrow. 8:00 a.m.”
“You know, giving me a start time makes this easier.”
“You won’t get inside.”
Tessa’s eyes brightened.
There it was again.
That look.
Challenge accepted before the words arrived.
She stood slowly.
Marco had seen her photograph, her credentials, and her professional profile.
None of them had adequately prepared him for the actual woman stepping around the kitchen island.
Curvy.
Confident.
Far more composed than anyone currently standing illegally inside his house had any right to be.
She stopped several feet away.
“You’re confident.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Is that a problem?”
Tessa glanced toward the folder.
“It cost you at least 1 point.”
Cal turned away again.
Marco pointed toward him without looking.
“One more time, Cal.”
“I’m thinking about lunch.”
“At 11:37?”
“I plan ahead.”
Tessa bit the inside of her cheek.
Marco saw it.
“You can laugh.”
She did.
That somehow made everything both worse and better.
He was becoming irritated by the distinction.
Tessa gathered her folder.
Marco’s eyes followed her hands.
“How did you know I’d be back before noon?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why wait here?”
She looked around the kitchen.
“Comfortable chairs.”
Marco stared.
“And your pears are good.”
“That’s theft.”
“You can deduct it from my invoice.”
His mouth twitched very slightly.
Tessa saw it.
Her eyes narrowed.
Marco’s expression immediately flattened.
“No.”
She smiled.
“You almost smiled.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Cal looked toward the ceiling.
Marco glanced at him.
Cal said nothing.
Tessa looked delighted.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying interesting.”
“You keep being interesting.”
That landed differently.
Only for a moment.
A tiny pause.
Her gaze held his.
His held hers.
May you like
The kitchen seemed quieter.
Chapter 1 above is preserved from the supplied source, including its opening setup, dialogue, and final beat. Văn bản đã dán (1)
