Chapter 2 - The Contract Rewritten
Ten minutes later, I was seated in a leather armchair in Adrian’s private study, wrapped in an oversized cashmere blanket that smelled faintly of cedar, tobacco, and him. A mug of steaming black coffee sat untouched on the saucer beside me.
The door opened without a sound.
Julian, the man who had choked back a laugh during my grand entrance, stepped inside. He had slicked-back blonde hair, sharp eyes, and the relaxed posture of someone who could kill you with a fountain pen.
“The plumber arrived,” Julian said, ignoring me completely as he addressed Adrian, who was standing behind a massive ebony desk, fastening the cuffs of a dry shirt. “Second-floor pipe was tampered with. Saw marks near the joint. Someone wanted a flood.”
My head snapped up. “Tampered with? I didn’t touch anything! I just went to turn on the faucet to wipe the baseboards!”
Adrian didn't look surprised. He fastened his second cuff link—heavy platinum skulls—and turned his gaze to me. “She didn't do it, Julian. If Bennett wanted to sabotage this house, she wouldn’t have used a mop as a decoy.”
“You’re sure?” Julian asked, studying me with clinical detachment. “A burst pipe causes a distraction. A wet cleaner bursts into the war room just as Sal introduced the revised supply routes. If she’d been five seconds earlier, she would have seen the decoy plans. If she’d been five seconds later, she would have seen the real ones.”
My jaw dropped. “I was looking for the supply closet! There are forty-two doors in that hallway and none of them have labels!”
“She’s clean,” Adrian said flatly, cutting off his lieutenant. “Her brother is in St. Jude’s recovery wing. She works sixty hours a week between here and a diner on 22nd Street. She doesn’t have the time or the connections to work for the Marcone syndicate.”
A cold dread pooled in my stomach. “You ran a background check on me?”
“I run background checks on the crows that land on my lawn,” Adrian replied smoothly, stepping around the desk. He stopped three feet away from my chair, towering over me. “The question isn't why the pipe broke. The question is why someone in my inner circle wanted my meeting interrupted at precisely seven forty-five.”
Julian’s expression darkened. “A mole.”
“A clumsy one,” Adrian corrected. “They counted on the noise drawing my guards away from the south perimeter. But instead of an intruder, I got a dripping wet girl with an attitude problem.”
“I do not have an attitude problem,” I muttered beneath my breath. “I have a survival instinct with a smart mouth.”
Julian actually snorted. Adrian shot him a look that could have stripped paint, and the blonde man cleared his throat, smoothing his tie.
“So what do we do with her?” Julian asked. “If Marcone’s people realize the distraction failed, they might target her to find out what she overheard.”
“She stays,” Adrian said.
“Excuse me?” I blurted out, dropping the blanket a few inches. “I have a shift tomorrow morning. I have laundry. I have a life!”
Adrian leaned down, resting both hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in. His face was inches from mine again. The intensity in his dark eyes was suffocating.
“Your life changed the second you slipped on my floor, Maya,” he said, his voice a velvety threat. “From this moment on, you are no longer housekeeping. You are my personal assistant. You stay where I can see you. You eat when I tell you to eat. And you don’t leave this estate without my explicit permission.”
“And if I refuse?” I challenged, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my chest.
Adrian leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You won’t refuse. Because tomorrow, your brother’s medical bills will be paid in full. Every single cent.”
I stopped breathing. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. “How... why would you do that?”
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“Because,” Adrian whispered, pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes, “I don’t leave debts unpaid. And you just saved my life, whether you meant to or not.”
***