Chapter 1
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"The Mafia Boss Pretended He Felt Nothing—Until His Mischievous Maid Whispered, “Then Why Are You Shaking?”
Lucy Parker had been working in the Moretti mansion for exactly 17 days when she discovered that Dominic Moretti, despite repeated claims to the contrary, was capable of feeling quite a lot.
She was 28, curvy, cheerful, observant, and entirely incapable of pretending nonsense made sense simply because a rich man delivered it in a calm voice.
Bianca Russo, the mansion’s senior housekeeper, politely described Lucy as having developed an unfortunate level of comfort.
Lucy preferred personality.
Dominic Moretti had been confined to his bedroom for 4 days after being shot during a private meeting across town. Someone had known where he would be. Someone had fired at his car as he left. Dominic survived, but his recovery had been strangely slow.
He was pale from blood loss. Bruising covered his ribs. A white bandage crossed 1 shoulder. His dark hair was slightly disordered, and 1 side of his black shirt hung open around the dressing.
Even injured, half-dressed, and surrounded by medicine and enough pillows to require their own postal code, Dominic somehow looked like a man who could have someone removed from the country without raising his voice.
Everyone treated him accordingly.
Lucy did not.
She had spent the morning changing his sheets while he complained that the replacement pillows were too soft.
The man had been shot, and apparently his greatest enemy was adequate lumbar support.
That morning, Dominic had made a very serious announcement.
He felt nothing.
Nothing in the shoulder beneath the bandage.
Nothing along his bruised ribs.
Nothing from the exhaustion Dr. Matteo Ferraro insisted would have made an ordinary man beg for something stronger than pride and expensive sheets.
Dominic said it with the authority of a man who apparently believed his nervous system worked for him.
Everyone in the room seemed prepared to accept that.
Everyone except Lucy.
Dominic sat propped against his pillows while Lucy adjusted the bedding around his injured shoulder.
Raphael Dantis, Dominic’s oldest friend and underboss, stood near the enormous bedroom doors beside 2 armed bodyguards who looked as though smiling had been removed from their employment contracts.
Lucy shifted 1 pillow behind Dominic’s shoulder.
His breath caught.
Barely.
Her eyebrows rose.
Dominic’s eyes became colder.
“Lucy.”
There it was.
The warning voice.
Lucy had heard that voice make grown men stop talking halfway through sentences. Once, she had watched a security guard apologize because a car door had closed too loudly.
She had spent the next 15 minutes wondering what volume officially qualified as organized crime.
Lucy adjusted the pillow another inch.
Dominic’s fingers tightened against the sheet.
She looked down at them.
Then at him.
“Still nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Shoulder?”
“No.”
“Ribs?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Annoyance?”
Dominic stared at her.
Lucy nodded thoughtfully.
“Ah. We found 1.”
A sound escaped Raphael.
Not quite laughter.
More like a man choking on his own happiness.
Dominic turned his head.
Raphael cleared his throat.
“Dust.”
Lucy looked around the immaculate room.
“Where?”
Raphael stared at the ceiling.
“Very aggressive dust.”
1 of the bodyguards suddenly developed an intense interest in his shoes.
Dominic closed his eyes for 1 second.
Lucy suspected he was praying for patience.
Or murder.
Possibly both.
Then Lucy placed 1 hand lightly against Dominic’s chest while shifting the bedding.
She felt it.
A tremor.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Definitely there.
Her fingers stopped against the warm skin just above the open collar of his shirt.
Slowly, Lucy raised her eyes.
Dominic was already watching her.
Judging by his expression, he knew exactly what she had noticed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Lucy’s lips started to curve.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t.”
That only made her smile wider.
His hand, resting beside his thigh, trembled again.
Tiny.
But there.
Lucy looked down.
Then back up.
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Oh.”
He said nothing.
“This is delightful.”
“Lucy.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
She glanced toward his shaking fingers.
Then at him.
“Remarkable.”
Raphael’s mouth twitched.
Dominic noticed.
Raphael immediately became fascinated by a painting on the opposite wall.
Lucy leaned slightly closer.
Dominic went still.
Not ordinary stillness.
Dominic Moretti stillness.
The kind that made other people reconsider recent decisions.
Lucy had reconsidered hers.
She simply had no intention of changing them.
She shifted closer again.
His fingers tightened.
This time, Lucy covered his hand lightly with hers.
The tremor stopped.
Dominic opened his eyes fully.
Lucy froze.
That was different.
For 1 strange second, neither of them joked.
Her hand was warm over his.
Dominic’s gaze dropped to where their fingers touched.
Then slowly returned to her face.
Lucy felt something shift beneath her ribs.
Annoying.
Very inconvenient.
Dominic Moretti was much easier to tease when she remembered him as her terrifying employer and much harder when he looked at her like that.
Naturally, Lucy chose self-destruction.
She leaned closer.
Very close.
Close enough that Raphael’s eyebrows climbed.
Close enough that Dominic’s breathing changed.
Close enough that Lucy could feel the heartbeat beneath the hand still resting against his chest.
Except it was no longer steady.
His heart was beating faster.
Lucy’s eyes widened.
Dominic saw the realization arrive.
“Lucy.”
Too late.
She leaned toward his ear.
“Then why are you shaking?”
The room died.
Not quieted.
Died.
1 bodyguard inhaled at exactly the wrong moment and started coughing.
The other slapped him once between the shoulder blades without taking his eyes off Dominic.
Raphael turned completely away.
His shoulders shook.
Dominic stared at Lucy.
Lucy stared back.
And because she had apparently inherited none of the survival instincts given to ordinary people, she smiled slowly and triumphantly.
Dominic’s face became dangerously blank.
Lucy knew that look.
It was the expression he wore whenever people discovered they had made a mistake, usually shortly before Raphael escorted them somewhere private.
But Lucy had evidence.
The shaking hand.
The heartbeat.
The breathing.
The prosecution rested.
“It’s the injury,” Dominic said quietly.
Lucy gasped.
“The injury you don’t feel?”
Raphael made another strangled sound.
Dominic looked toward him.
“You can leave.”
Raphael turned back, completely serious.
“I’m here for security.”
“You’re laughing.”
“No.”
“You are visibly shaking.”
Lucy pointed toward Raphael.
“Maybe he feels nothing too.”
That finished him.
Raphael coughed into his fist and walked toward the window.
Dominic looked at Lucy as though trying to understand how 1 woman had created this much disorder in 17 days.
Lucy smiled sweetly.
“I’m simply concerned for your recovery.”
“You are enjoying this.”
“That can also be true.”
The corner of Dominic’s mouth moved.
Barely.
Almost a smile.
Lucy caught it.
Her eyes widened.
Dominic erased it immediately.
Too late.
“There.”
“What?”
“You nearly smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“No.”
Lucy looked toward Raphael.
“Witness?”
Without turning around, Raphael raised 1 hand.
“Confirmed.”
Dominic’s stare could have refrigerated meat.
Raphael lowered the hand.
“Allegedly.”
Lucy laughed.
For 1 fleeting second, Dominic simply watched her.
Not annoyed.
Not threatening.
Watching.
There was something unexpectedly warm in his eyes.
It disappeared so quickly that Lucy almost wondered if she imagined it.
Almost.
Then Dominic shifted.
Pain flashed across his face.
Fast.
But real.
Lucy’s smile disappeared immediately.
His shoulder tightened.
His fingers began trembling harder.
“Dominic.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“No, you’re not doing that with me.”
“Doing what?”
“The ridiculous statue routine.”
Raphael glanced over.
Lucy moved closer again, but the teasing was gone.
Dominic reached toward the glass of water beside the bed.
“I said I’m fine.”
His hand closed around the glass.
It shook.
Once.
Twice.
Water touched the rim.
Dominic tightened his grip.
Lucy caught the bottom before it slipped.
The room changed instantly.
Nobody laughed.
Dominic looked at his own hand.
For the first time that morning, Lucy saw something almost like uncertainty in his face.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
Dominic Moretti did not look uncertain.
He looked prepared.
He looked irritated.
Occasionally homicidal.
But uncertain?
No.
Lucy steadied the glass.
“Easy.”
His gaze snapped toward hers.
She immediately corrected herself.
“Fine. Not easy. Very masculine and intimidating.”
Raphael snorted.
Lucy kept holding the glass.
“But let me help.”
Dominic hesitated.
Then allowed it.
That small surrender did something irritating to Lucy’s chest.
She ignored it.
She was good at ignoring things.
Unlike Dominic, she simply did not announce it as a philosophy.
She began to hand him the glass.
Then stopped.
Something was floating near the bottom.
Lucy frowned.
She tilted the glass toward the light.
A faint cloudy residue swirled through the water.
“Did you put something in this?”
Dominic looked at the glass.
“No.”
“Medicine?”
“No.”
Lucy turned toward Dr. Matteo Ferraro, who had been standing near the far table examining Dominic’s chart.
“Doctor.”
Matteo came closer.
“What?”
Lucy held out the glass.
“There’s something in the water.”
Matteo took it.
1 look and every trace of humor disappeared from his face.
Raphael saw that.
He stopped smiling.
Dominic’s voice became very quiet.
“What?”
Matteo tilted the glass beneath the lamp.
The pale residue moved slowly near the bottom.
“Did you drink this?”
Dominic nodded once.
“This morning.”
May you like
“How much?”
“Not much.”
