Chapter 2 - The One Rule She Had to Break
Hazel did not move.
Damian’s face had gone pale beneath the hard angles of his features, but his eyes remained sharp.
“Miss Brooks.”
She flinched.
He knew her name.
For some ridiculous reason, that frightened her almost as much as the blood.
“The kit.”
“Right.”
Hazel hurried around the enormous walnut desk. Her fingers shook as she opened the drawer he indicated.
Inside were a pistol, two passports, a stack of cash, and a red medical pouch.
She carefully ignored everything except the pouch.
When she turned around, Damian had lowered himself onto the leather sofa.
The same sofa where she had nearly fallen asleep thirty seconds earlier.
“Call a doctor.”
“Can’t.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
Another burst of distant gunfire echoed beyond the steel shutters.
Hazel froze.
Damian barely reacted.
“The house is secure,” he said. “If Sullivan’s men could get inside, we’d already know.”
That name again.
Sullivan.
Frankie Sullivan.
Hazel tried to hide her reaction.
She failed.
Damian noticed everything.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m a maid, Mr. Romano. Lying wasn’t part of the interview.”
Something almost resembling amusement passed through his eyes.
Then pain erased it.
“Open the kit.”
Hazel did.
Gauze. Antiseptic. Sutures.
Her stomach tightened.
“I can’t do stitches.”
“You don’t need to.”
Damian unbuttoned his blood-soaked shirt.
Hazel immediately looked away.
“This is going to require you to look at me.”
Her cheeks burned.
“I know.”
“Then why are you studying my bookshelf?”
“I’m preparing myself.”
“For what?”
“For possibly watching my employer bleed to death.”
That actually made him smile.
It lasted less than a second.
Hazel forced herself to look.
The bullet had apparently grazed his ribs rather than entered his body. The wound was ugly but shallow.
“You’re lucky.”
“People rarely describe me that way.”
She soaked gauze with antiseptic.
Then stopped.
To clean the wound, she would have to touch him.
Everyone knew Damian Romano’s rule.
No woman touched him.
Rumors around the estate offered explanations. Some said an ex-wife had betrayed him. Others claimed a woman had once tried to assassinate him in bed. One housekeeper insisted Damian simply hated intimacy.
Hazel had never cared enough to discover which story was true.
Until now.
“Mr. Romano?”
“What?”
“Your rule.”
His gaze settled on her hand.
Understanding came.
“You’re afraid I’ll fire you?”
“I’m afraid you’ll shoot me.”
“If I intended to shoot you, Hazel, I wouldn’t make you disinfect me first.”
It was the first time he had called her Hazel.
She slowly pressed the gauze against his skin.
Damian’s entire body went rigid.
Not from pain.
From her touch.
Hazel instantly withdrew.
“I’m sorry.”
“Continue.”
“But—”
“Continue.”
His voice had become quieter.
Hazel tried again.
She cleaned the blood carefully, keeping her movements slow.
Damian stared straight ahead.
His jaw tightened every time her fingertips accidentally brushed his skin.
“What happened to you?” Hazel finally asked.
“Business disagreement.”
“Do all your business disagreements involve bullets?”
“Only the unsuccessful ones.”
She nearly laughed.
Then her phone vibrated inside her apron.
Hazel’s blood turned cold.
She knew before looking.
FRANKIE SULLIVAN.
She declined the call.
Damian had seen the screen.
The room changed.
“You don’t know Sullivan?”
Hazel stopped breathing.
“I—”
Her phone vibrated again.
This time a message appeared.
FRIDAY. $60,000. NO MORE EXCUSES.
Damian read it upside down.
His expression became unreadable.
“Explain.”
“It’s personal.”
“Sullivan’s armed men are outside my home, and Sullivan is threatening an employee standing inside my locked study. It stopped being personal.”
Hazel lowered her eyes.
“My ex-boyfriend borrowed money.”
“From Frankie Sullivan?”
“I didn’t know.”
“How does his debt become yours?”
“He used my name.”
Damian stared at her.
Hazel explained everything.
Evan had promised they were building a future together. Instead, he had forged her signature on documents connected to a loan, disappeared, and left Hazel answering calls from men who knew where she lived and where she worked.
“Why didn’t you go to police?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“They said the documents looked legitimate and the threats weren’t specific enough.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Of course.”
Hazel wrapped fresh gauze around his ribs.
“You don’t have to worry. I’ve never told Sullivan anything about this house.”
“I know.”
She looked up.
“How?”
“If you had, tonight’s men wouldn’t have approached from the north tree line.”
That answer was terrifyingly calm.
Then the lights flickered.
A loud impact shook the floor.
Hazel instinctively stepped closer.
Damian’s hand went to his pistol.
“Stay behind me.”
“You’re injured.”
“I remain considerably more useful in a gunfight than you.”
“That’s rude.”
“That’s mathematics.”
Despite herself, Hazel smiled.
Twenty minutes became an hour.
The attack outside gradually quieted, but security protocols kept the third floor sealed.
Damian refused pain medication.
Hazel sat at the opposite end of the sofa.
At 2:30 a.m., she yawned.
At 2:42, Damian noticed her eyes closing.
“When did you last sleep?”
“I sleep.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Sunday.”
It was Wednesday morning.
Damian stared at her.
“You’ve been awake for two days?”
“I took a twenty-minute nap yesterday.”
“That doesn’t improve your answer.”
“I have two jobs.”
“You’re going to collapse.”
“I can’t afford to.”
“You’re already collapsing.”
“I’m fine.”
Hazel stood to prove it.
The room tilted.
Damian moved faster than an injured man should have.
He caught her.
Hazel’s hands landed against his chest.
Both froze.
Her face was inches from his.
Damian looked down at her hands.
Hazel immediately pulled away.
“I’m sorry.”
He said nothing.
But something strange had happened.
For the first time in four years, a woman had fallen against him.
And Damian had not felt panic.
He had felt warmth.
Hazel sat again, mortified.
“I won’t fall asleep.”
“Hazel.”
“I promise.”
Nine minutes later, her head slowly dropped onto his shoulder.
Damian looked down.
She was asleep.
Completely.
Her hand rested loosely over his chest.
He should have moved her.
Every instinct built over four years told him to stand up.
Instead, Damian remained motionless.
Minutes passed.
Then Hazel shifted closer in her sleep, curling against him as though his arms were the safest place in the world.
Damian slowly lifted one arm.
He hesitated.
Then wrapped it around her.
Outside, armed men searched for a weakness in his fortress.
Inside, Damian Romano stared at the sleeping maid against his chest and realized something far more dangerous had already gotten through.
At 3:17 a.m., his phone vibrated.
A message from his security chief appeared.
Boss, we caught one alive.
A second message followed.
He says Sullivan didn’t come here for you.
Damian looked down at Hazel.
May you like
Then read the final line.
They came for the girl.
