Chapter 4 - The Man Roarke Trusted Most
Roarke did not confront Silvio.
That frightened Adeline more than anger would have.
The following morning, Silvio sat across from him at breakfast as though nothing had changed.
Lucia complained about the coffee.
Posy attempted to feed strawberries to Mr. Pickles.
Adeline watched two dangerous men politely discuss hotel security while wondering whether one had entered Roarke’s suite and then sent someone into her apartment.
Silvio finally looked at her.
“You didn't sleep.”
“Neither did you.”
“I rarely do.”
“Maybe you should try falling asleep in your boss's bathroom. Apparently it changes your career.”
Lucia choked on her coffee.
Roarke lowered his cup to hide what might have been a smile.
Silvio didn't smile.
Later, Adeline accompanied Lucia through the garden.
The older woman moved slowly but stubbornly refused Adeline’s arm.
“You hover.”
“I'm supposed to.”
“I fired the last woman for hovering.”
“I heard about the fireplace poker.”
Lucia stopped.
“Roarke told you?”
“Yes.”
“He exaggerates.”
“He said you missed.”
“I did not miss. I struck exactly where I intended.”
Adeline stared.
Lucia smiled.
It was the first time Adeline understood where Roarke had inherited his unsettling sense of humor.
Over the next days, life assumed an impossible rhythm.
Posy attended school with a Castellano driver waiting outside.
Adeline cared for Lucia.
Roarke disappeared each morning into meetings and returned late.
And Silvio remained everywhere.
Watching.
Waiting.
Adeline couldn't decide whether he was guilty.
On the fourth night, she found Roarke alone in the kitchen at 1:00 a.m.
His jacket was gone. Sleeves rolled up. A bruise darkened his knuckles.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“So do you.”
“Charming.”
He opened the refrigerator.
“Why are you awake?”
“Checking Posy's nebulizer.”
“Attack?”
“No. Preventative treatment.”
Roarke nodded.
Adeline noticed blood on his cuff.
“You're hurt.”
“Not mine.”
She stared.
He looked at her.
“You asked.”
“No, I didn't.”
“You were going to.”
He poured water.
Adeline leaned against the counter.
“Do you think Silvio stole your ledger?”
Roarke became still.
“Why ask that?”
“Because you keep looking at his watch.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You notice too much.”
“I almost became a nurse. Observation mattered.”
Roarke looked away.
“The footage isn't proof.”
“But you don't trust him anymore.”
“I trust evidence.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Silence.
Finally Roarke said, “Silvio has been beside me since I was twenty-three.”
“So?”
“So if he's betraying me, I need certainty before I destroy something that took fifteen years to build.”
Adeline understood that.
More than he expected.
“My mother used to say betrayal hurts according to distance.”
Roarke looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“A stranger can only stab you from the front. The people you love already know where your back is.”
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Roarke asked, “What happened to your father?”
“Accident.”
“You said that already.”
“You're interrogating me now?”
“Conversation.”
“You're bad at it.”
“So I've been told.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then the kitchen lights went out.
Darkness.
Roarke moved instantly.
One arm caught Adeline around the waist and pulled her behind the island.
His other hand drew a pistol.
“Stay down.”
The entire estate had lost power.
Emergency lights should have activated.
They didn't.
Roarke touched his earpiece.
Nothing.
The security network was dead.
Then Adeline heard it.
Glass breaking upstairs.
“Posy.”
She stood.
Roarke caught her.
“No.”
“My sister is upstairs.”
“My men—”
“Your system is dead!”
She tore free.
Roarke swore and followed.
They reached the staircase as a masked man emerged from the second-floor corridor.
Adeline saw the gun first.
“Roarke!”
She shoved him.
The shot cracked through the hall.
Marble exploded behind them.
Roarke fired once.
The attacker disappeared.
Adeline ran upstairs.
“Posy!”
Her bedroom door was open.
Empty.
Adeline stopped breathing.
Then she heard coughing.
The closet.
She ripped it open.
Posy was crouched inside beside Lucia.
Lucia held the fireplace poker.
A masked man lay unconscious on the floor.
Adeline stared.
Lucia adjusted her robe.
“I told Roarke I didn't miss.”
Even Roarke looked momentarily speechless.
Security flooded the corridor seconds later.
Power returned.
The unconscious attacker was dragged downstairs.
He carried no identification.
But inside his pocket was a photograph.
Adeline.
Posy.
And Roarke.
Taken three days earlier in the garden.
On the back, someone had written:
THE GIRL WAS NEVER THE TARGET.
Adeline's blood chilled.
Roarke turned the photograph over again.
Below the first sentence, nearly hidden along the bottom, was another line.
SHE IS THE KEY.
Roarke slowly looked at Adeline.
And for the first time, she saw something in his eyes she had never expected from a man like him.
Fear.
May you like
Not for himself.
For her.
