Chapter 1
By the time Norah Hayes arrived at the Rossi estate, 6 nurses had quit in 5 days.
One had left in tears. Another had suffered a broken wrist. The most recent nurse to approach Dominic Rossi while he was sleeping had been struck by a glass lamp and required 12 stitches.
The man they had been hired to treat was lying in a bedroom with a gunshot wound to his right shoulder and an infection that was getting worse. Blood had soaked through the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. He had refused medical attention, threatened the people attempting to help him, and made it clear that he would rather suffer than allow anyone to exercise authority over him.
Norah knew the reputation of the man waiting behind the estate's iron gates.
She also knew that her rent was due Monday, her bank account contained 74 cents, and her landlord was threatening eviction.
The warnings had not been enough to make her turn around.
Rain struck the windshield of her rusted sedan as she approached the estate. The car's heater had stopped working 3 months earlier, and moisture had gathered on the inside of the glass. Norah wiped it away with the frayed sleeve of her jacket.
Beyond the windshield, the Rossi property rose against the mountainside. The driveway was protected by iron gates approximately 10 feet tall, with stone gargoyles flanking the entrance.
Norah stopped the car and switched off the engine.
It sputtered before falling silent.
She remained behind the wheel for a moment, gripping it tightly enough that her knuckles turned pale.
This was a job.
A dangerous job, involving a man with a reputation for violence, but one that paid considerably more than the ordinary nursing work she had been unable to find.
Norah had spent 3 years working night shifts in a downtown emergency department before losing that employment. She knew how to care for injured patients. She understood severe bleeding, infected wounds, and the unpredictable behavior of people in pain.
What she did not know was whether Dominic Rossi would permit her to use those skills.
A man in a tailored black suit approached the driver's window.
He carried an umbrella but appeared unconcerned about the rain soaking the ground around him.
He tapped on the glass.
Norah lowered the window with the manual crank.
"Norah Hayes?"
She confirmed her name.
The man introduced himself as Leo.
He managed the household.
He looked briefly at her car and instructed her to leave it where it stood. Someone would move it to a less visible location.
Norah took a canvas duffel bag from the passenger seat and stepped outside.
Her inexpensive sneakers became wet almost immediately.
She followed Leo along the driveway toward the mansion.
The property was carefully maintained. The hedges were cut into precise shapes, and the landscaping consisted largely of stone and dark greenery.
There were no flowers.
Leo stopped beneath the large portico outside the main entrance.
Before allowing Norah inside, he explained the rules.
She was not to ask how Dominic received his injuries.
She was not to speak unless addressed, and even then she was expected to keep her answers brief.
Above all, she was to follow Dominic's instructions without argument.
If he ordered her to throw her medical supplies out a window, Leo said, she should ask which window he preferred.
Norah adjusted the strap of her duffel bag.
She had been told Dominic suffered a gunshot wound to the right shoulder with a secondary infection.
Leo confirmed it.
He then added the information about Dominic's temper.
The last nurse had attempted to change his dressings while he was asleep. Dominic woke and threw a glass lamp at her head.
She required 12 stitches.
Leo asked whether Norah had a weak stomach.
"I have rent due on Monday, Leo. My stomach can handle anything."
He examined her for a moment.
Then he nodded and opened the heavy oak doors.
The interior of the mansion was almost silent.
The air smelled of lemon polish, with a faint metallic odor beneath it.
Norah recognized the smell of blood.
During her years in the emergency department, she had encountered injuries severe enough that the odor became familiar. She knew what it meant when it lingered in a closed room.
Leo led her upstairs.
A thick runner covered the sweeping staircase, muffling their footsteps.
Her wet shoes left faint marks near the edges of the marble.
At the upper hallway, Leo stopped.
Dominic occupied the master suite at the far end.
Leo would remain downstairs.
There was a call button near the bedroom door, but Norah was not to use it unless there was a genuine emergency.
A bad mood, he emphasized, did not qualify.
Norah acknowledged the instructions.
Then she walked the remaining distance alone.
The double doors were made from dark, heavy wood.
She opened them and entered.
The bedroom was nearly dark.
Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows, allowing only a narrow strip of gray daylight through.
The temperature was uncomfortably high.
Norah could barely distinguish the furniture at first, but the outline of a large 4-poster bed dominated the center of the room.
A figure sat propped against the headboard.
"Get out."
The voice was low and rough.
Norah stopped and allowed her eyes to adjust.
She did not leave.
Dominic repeated the order.
His breathing was shallow and uneven. Norah heard a wheezing quality that concerned her, although she could not yet determine its cause.
She told him she could not leave.
He asked whether she was deaf or stupid.
Then he threw a heavy object toward her.
It struck the wall only inches from her head and fell to the floor.
Norah looked down.
It appeared to be a book.
She turned toward the windows.
Dominic ordered her to leave the curtains alone.
She opened them.
Gray daylight entered the room.
Dominic raised his left arm to shield his eyes.
For the first time, Norah could see him clearly.
His dark hair was wet with sweat. His face was pale, his cheekbones sharply defined, and his breathing remained labored.
Bandages covered his right shoulder and upper chest.
They were saturated with dark blood and yellow drainage.
The surrounding skin appeared inflamed.
Norah could already see enough to know the injury had not been cared for properly.
Dominic lowered his arm.
His dark eyes fixed on her.
"Who the hell are you?"
She placed the canvas duffel bag on an armchair.
"I'm Norah. I'm the seventh nurse, and I'm going to need you to lie flat. We have a lot of work to do."
Dominic did not move.
As the afternoon progressed and the rain grew heavier, he continued watching her with open hostility.
He told her he did not need a nurse.
He wanted her to leave, collect payment from Leo for the visit, and never return.
Norah opened her bag.
She began arranging medical supplies on a silver tray beside the bed.
Sterile gauze, saline, antibiotics, a scalpel, and suturing equipment were among the items she brought.
She moved a half-empty bottle of bourbon aside to make room.
Dominic reacted to the sound of the instruments.
He attempted to sit straighter.
The movement caused immediate pain.
His hand flew toward the injured shoulder.
Norah instructed him not to move.
Then she pulled on a pair of blue medical gloves.
Dominic ordered her not to touch him.
His hand moved beneath the pillow.
Norah stopped.
The shape beneath the fabric suggested a handgun.
She kept her own hands visible.
Dominic's pupils were dilated. He appeared feverish and exhausted, and his breathing had become increasingly difficult.
Norah estimated his temperature at no less than 103 degrees Fahrenheit.
She believed the wound was severely infected and warned that he needed urgent treatment.
Without adequate care, she told him, the infection could spread into his bloodstream and kill him.
Dominic stared at her.
"Then I die."
It was his blood, his home, and his decision.
Norah considered the answer.
She knew the medical danger.
She also understood how accustomed Dominic was to having people obey him.
Anyone else in the household might have accepted his refusal, or at least retreated until he became easier to approach.
But Norah could not afford another failed job.
Her rent was overdue.
Debt collectors were calling repeatedly.
And she had come to the estate because she needed the money promised for keeping him alive.
"No."
Dominic frowned.
He asked what she had said.
Norah repeated herself.
He was not going to die during her shift.
If he wanted to refuse treatment, he could dismiss her, wait until she had left the property, and make that choice without her.
But while she remained responsible for his care, she intended to keep him alive.
She needed the paycheck.
And she doubted Leo would reward her for allowing the patient to die.
Dominic studied her.
His grip on the object beneath the pillow loosened slightly.
He called her sharp-tongued.
Norah described herself as practical.
Then she picked up the medical scissors.
She explained that she was going to remove the saturated bandages.
It would hurt.
Dominic was welcome to swear, shout, or complain.
But if he pulled a gun on her, she would leave.
She stepped closer.
The smell from the wound was much stronger at the bedside.
Norah positioned the blunt end of the scissors beneath the adhesive securing the dressing.
Dominic reacted to the contact.
His left hand closed around her wrist.
The grip was powerful.
Norah stopped moving.
She did not attempt to pull away.
Dominic looked directly at her.
"I break fingers."
Norah maintained eye contact.
"And I fix them. Let go."
For approximately 5 seconds, neither moved.
Then Dominic slowly released her wrist.
His arm dropped toward the mattress.
He turned his face toward the wall.
"Get it over with."
Norah resumed removing the dressing.
The injury beneath it was serious.
The bullet had torn through the upper pectoral muscle, missing the collarbone but leaving a deep, irregular wound.
The surrounding tissue was swollen and inflamed.
Yellow discharge had collected around the damaged area.
The existing stitches were poorly placed and pulling against the swollen tissue.
Norah asked who had treated him.
"A vet," Dominic answered.
May you like
She began cleaning the wound with saline and sterile gauze.
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