Chapter 1 - THE NAME SHE WAS AFRAID TO SAY
The click of the deadbolt sounded like a gunshot in the empty kitchen.
Ivy froze.
Her bleeding lip stung as she stared at the heavy oak door.
Carmine stood there.
A man who owned judges, frightened police chiefs, and could order an execution before his morning coffee.
He never came into the staff kitchen.
Until tonight.
He didn't yell.
He didn't draw a weapon.
He simply stared at the fresh purple bruising around her neck.
Then he asked one question.
“Who did this?”
Ivy's fingers tightened around the copper pan.
“Nobody.”
Carmine's eyes narrowed.
She knew immediately that he didn't believe her.
At three in the morning, the Rossi estate was almost silent. The men who normally occupied the halls had disappeared into their rooms or security offices. Rain hammered against the basement windows.
Ivy had been crying over the sink for nearly twenty minutes.
She had thought herself alone.
She had been wrong.
Carmine took one step toward her.
“Look at me.”
She slowly raised her face.
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
That was what frightened her.
The colder Carmine became, the more dangerous he was.
He studied her swollen eye, split lip, torn uniform, and the bruises forming beneath her collar.
“You said you fell.”
“Yes.”
“Down stairs.”
“Yes.”
“And the stairs wrapped fingers around your throat?”
Ivy swallowed.
“I caught myself on the railing.”
“Interesting.”
He moved closer.
She instinctively stepped backward.
Her hip struck the counter.
Carmine stopped.
For one brief second, something flashed across his face.
He had frightened her.
He knew it.
He lowered his hand.
“I won't touch you.”
The simple statement surprised her.
She looked at him.
Carmine removed his suit jacket and placed it on the counter.
“Now tell me the truth.”
Ivy shook her head.
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he'll kill me.”
Silence.
Carmine's jaw hardened.
“Who?”
Ivy's eyes filled again.
“He said if I told anyone, he'd make sure my mother's debt wasn't the only thing I had to worry about.”
Carmine went still.
“Your mother?”
“She died two years ago.”
“I know.”
Ivy stared at him.
“How?”
“I know everyone who works in this house.”
That was only partly true.
Carmine knew their names.
Their histories.
Their addresses.
Their debts.
Their relatives.
But Ivy had never imagined he knew hers.
“You owe fifty thousand dollars,” he continued.
Her face went white.
“How do you know that?”
“Because the collection agency called my office.”
Ivy's breathing stopped.
Carmine's eyes remained fixed on her.
“They wanted to know whether you were still employed here.”
“Why would they call you?”
“Because you work for me.”
She stared at him.
The answer sounded simple.
Yet something about it made her chest tighten.
Carmine stepped toward the island and picked up his phone.
“One call,” he said.
“No.”
“One call, Ivy.”
“Please.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
He looked at her.
“You're protecting someone.”
Her lips trembled.
“No.”
“Then you're protecting yourself.”
She said nothing.
Carmine placed the phone down.
“I'll give you another choice.”
Ivy looked up.
“You tell me his name.”
He paused.
“And I promise you something.”
“What?”
“He never touches you again.”
She wanted to believe him.
That was the terrifying part.
She wanted to believe the most dangerous man in the city could protect her.
But there was one problem.
The man who had attacked her wasn't just one of Carmine's employees.
He was someone Carmine trusted.
Ivy finally whispered:
“Marco.”
Carmine's expression didn't change.
“Marco what?”
“Marco Bellini.”
The kitchen seemed to become colder.
Carmine stared at her.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Marco come after you?”
“I don't know.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Ivy closed her eyes.
“He found me behind the estate last night. He said he'd been watching me.”
Carmine's fingers curled slowly against the countertop.
“What else?”
“He said you wouldn't believe me.”
Carmine's eyes sharpened.
“And?”
“He said if I told you, you'd think I was trying to destroy him.”
Carmine stared toward the rain-streaked window.
Marco had worked for him for nine years.
He had saved Carmine's life twice.
He had been family.
Or so Carmine had believed.
Ivy suddenly whispered, “Please don't kill him.”
Carmine looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because then everyone will know I told you.”
“You're worried about everyone.”
“Yes.”
“You should be worried about yourself.”
“I am.”
Her voice cracked.
“I just don't want more blood on my conscience.”
Something changed in Carmine's eyes.
He had expected fear.
He hadn't expected compassion.
“Go upstairs.”
Ivy blinked.
“What?”
“You're not cleaning anything else tonight.”
“But—”
“That wasn't a request.”
She hesitated.
Then picked up her small bag.
As she passed him, Carmine spoke.
“Ivy.”
She stopped.
“Don't leave the estate.”
Her heart skipped.
“Why?”
“Because if Marco thinks you told me, he'll come looking for you.”
She turned.
Carmine's voice was almost gentle.
“And this time, he'll find me waiting.”
Ivy left.
Carmine waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then he called his head of security.
“Leo.”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Lock the estate down.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“Because we have a traitor.”
May you like
Carmine looked at the kitchen door.
“And I want to know how long he's been one.”
