Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN ON HIS CHEST
Victor Romano woke with a woman in his arms.
His pistol was against her back before he was fully conscious.
One pull of the trigger.
That was all it would take.
Then Victor smelled vanilla soap, ammonia, and something he recognized immediately.
Exhaustion.
He looked down.
Tessa Moore, one of his housekeepers, was sleeping across his chest like the most feared man in Chicago was nothing more than a warm mattress.
Victor stared at her.
Nobody touched him without permission.
Men had lost teeth for less.
One man had disappeared after grabbing Victor’s shoulder during an argument.
Yet this twenty-three-year-old woman had somehow ended up curled against him while his own arm held her around the waist.
Then he remembered fragments.
The ambush.
The bullet tearing through his shoulder.
Paulie bringing him home.
Whiskey.
A nightmare.
Hands pressing against his chest.
His own voice saying one word.
“Stay.”
Victor slowly lowered the gun.
That was when Tessa woke.
Her eyes opened.
For two seconds, she looked confused.
Then she saw his face.
Then the pistol.
All the color vanished from hers.
“Oh, God.”
She tried to scramble backward.
Victor caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
Tessa froze.
“I can explain.”
“Can you?”
“I was cleaning.”
“On my chest?”
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Victor almost smiled.
Almost.
“You were having a nightmare,” she said quickly. “You were about to fall off the couch. I tried to push you back. You grabbed me.”
Victor’s expression changed.
“I grabbed you?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“You told me to stay.”
Victor said nothing.
Tessa swallowed.
“You wouldn’t let go.”
“So you decided to sleep?”
“I worked eighteen hours yesterday.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No, I didn’t decide to sleep.” Embarrassment flashed across her face. “My body apparently resigned without consulting me.”
That answer caught him off guard.
Victor released her wrist.
Tessa immediately stood, but her legs buckled.
Victor grabbed her elbow before she hit the floor.
She winced.
His eyes dropped to her shoes.
A dark stain had spread across the back of one sneaker.
“Your foot.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“It’s a blister.”
“You worked eighteen hours with that?”
Tessa glanced toward the door.
“I really need to finish the rug.”
Victor followed her gaze.
The bourbon stain was half-cleaned.
Broken crystal sat in a plastic bucket.
She had nearly collapsed from exhaustion while cleaning up after him.
Something cold settled in Victor’s stomach.
“Who assigned you eighteen hours?”
Tessa hesitated.
That hesitation answered him.
“Who?”
“Mr. Romano—”
“Victor.”
She stared at him.
He didn’t know why he had said it.
Neither did she.
Finally Tessa whispered, “Mrs. Bell schedules the house staff.”
Victor reached for the phone on the side table.
Tessa panicked.
“Please don’t get her fired.”
His hand stopped.
“Why?”
“Because then everybody will know I complained.”
“You did complain.”
“No. You interrogated me while holding a gun.”
Victor looked at the pistol still in his hand.
He placed it on the table.
“Better?”
“Marginally.”
There it was again.
That almost-smile.
Victor hated it.
Before he could answer, the study door opened.
Paulie entered.
He stopped dead.
His eyes moved from Victor to Tessa.
Tessa’s messy hair.
Victor’s open shirt.
The couch.
The gun.
Paulie’s face became unreadable.
“What happened?”
Victor answered before Tessa could.
“Nothing.”
Paulie’s gaze hardened.
“She wasn’t supposed to stay in here.”
“I know.”
“I’ll deal with her.”
Tessa went pale.
Victor’s voice turned quiet.
“No.”
Paulie looked at him.
Victor picked up the pistol.
“Touch her,” he said, “and you’ll deal with me.”
Tessa stared at Victor.
Paulie stared even harder.
And for the first time that morning, Victor realized the real problem.
He had just protected a housekeeper in front of one of his most dangerous men.
May you like
By noon, everyone in the Romano organization would know.
And somebody was going to wonder why.
