Chapter 1 - The Woman in His Bed
Damian Cross had killed men for entering rooms they had been told to avoid.
That was the first thought that crossed his mind as he stood inside his dark bedroom, one hand wrapped around the pistol beneath his coat.
The second thought made absolutely no sense.
The woman in his bed was freezing.
He could see her trembling beneath the charcoal sheets. Her dark hair had come loose from its knot and spread across his pillow. One cheek was flushed red, the other almost colorless.
She wasn't reaching for a weapon.
She wasn't even awake.
Damian closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off her.
For several seconds, the only sounds in the room were rain hammering the glass and Elena's shallow breathing.
He moved closer.
Her gray maid's uniform was wrinkled, one sleeve pushed above her elbow. A cleaning cloth had fallen onto the carpet beside the bed.
Damian recognized her.
Hale.
The quiet one.
He had seen her twice in the East Wing during the past month. She always stepped aside before he reached a doorway. Never stared. Never whispered with the other staff.
Damian disliked people who were curious.
Elena Hale had never seemed curious about anything except finishing her work.
Now she was asleep in the only place in the entire estate no employee was allowed to touch except while cleaning.
His bed.
Damian stopped beside her.
"Hale."
Nothing.
His jaw hardened.
"Elena."
She stirred.
A weak sound escaped her throat.
Damian touched the back of his fingers to her forehead.
The heat startled him.
"Jesus."
Her eyes flew open.
For half a second she stared at him without recognition.
Then terror arrived.
Elena jerked upright so violently that the room spun. She tried to scramble backward, caught her foot in the sheet and nearly fell from the opposite side of the mattress.
"I'm sorry."
Damian didn't move.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Cross."
She stood, or attempted to.
Her knees buckled.
Damian caught her before her head struck the nightstand.
The pistol disappeared beneath his jacket as his other arm closed around her waist.
Elena went rigid.
"Please don't fire me."
Her voice was barely audible.
Damian looked down at her.
She was trembling harder now.
Not because she was afraid of him.
Because she could barely remain conscious.
"You have a fever."
"I can finish the room."
"You can barely stand."
"I just need five minutes."
"You already took four hours."
Her face drained.
"Four?"
Damian released her only when he was certain she could grip the bedpost.
Elena looked toward the windows. Darkness covered the estate grounds.
"No."
She grabbed for her phone on the dresser.
Seven missed calls.
All from the same number.
Ethan.
The panic on her face changed.
"I have to go."
Damian blocked her path.
"No."
"My brother is alone."
"You aren't walking outside like this."
"I take the bus."
His expression sharpened.
"In this storm?"
"The last one leaves at eleven."
"You'd collapse before reaching the gate."
"I don't have a choice."
Everyone had choices, Damian thought.
People simply hated the price attached to them.
He reached for the phone beside his bed.
Elena's eyes widened.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling a doctor."
"No."
Damian paused.
It was possibly the first time anyone working in his house had told him no.
"I don't have insurance for—"
"The doctor works for me."
"I can't pay—"
"I wasn't asking you to."
Her mouth closed.
Damian made the call.
"Pierce. My house. Now."
A sleepy male voice answered something Damian didn't bother responding to.
"Hundred-and-three-degree fever. Maybe higher."
Elena stared.
"I said I'm fine."
Damian ended the call.
"You passed out in a stranger's bed."
"Technically, I fell asleep."
"That improves nothing."
Despite herself, Elena almost smiled.
Almost.
Then her phone rang again.
Ethan.
She answered immediately.
"Ethan?"
Damian turned away, intending to give her privacy.
Then he heard the boy's voice through the speaker.
"Elena, I threw up again."
She closed her eyes.
"Did you take the nausea medication?"
"We're out."
"I left two tablets beside the microwave."
"I took those this morning."
Elena pressed a hand against her forehead.
"I'll get more."
"The pharmacy said we owe them."
Damian's gaze shifted back.
Elena lowered her voice.
"Don't worry about that."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't ever apologize for being sick."
There was silence.
Then the boy asked, "Are you coming home?"
Elena looked toward Damian.
"Yes."
"No," Damian said.
Her eyes flashed.
Ethan apparently heard him.
"Who's there?"
"No one."
Damian raised an eyebrow.
Elena glared at him.
"I'm working late."
"You're coughing."
"I'm okay."
"You always say that."
The sentence hit harder than Damian expected.
Elena turned away.
"I'll be there soon. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone."
She ended the call.
"I need to leave."
Damian picked up his own phone again.
"Rafael."
His head of security answered instantly.
"Boss?"
"Send a car to Elena Hale's address."
She stared at him.
Damian held out his hand.
"Address."
"No."
"Your brother is fifteen and sick."
"How do you know he's fifteen?"
"Employee records."
Her eyes narrowed.
Damian had not read her employee records.
He had simply remembered Mrs. Voss mentioning that one of the new maids supported a teenage brother.
He chose not to explain.
"Address."
Elena gave it reluctantly.
Damian repeated it to Rafael.
"Bring the boy here."
"What?"
She stepped toward him.
"No. Absolutely not."
Damian ignored her.
"Take Dr. Pierce with you if he arrives first. Make sure the boy has whatever medication he's missing."
He ended the call.
Elena looked furious now.
It suited her better than fear.
"You can't just take my brother."
"I can send a car."
"That's not the same thing."
"He can stay in one of the guest rooms until you're well enough to go home."
"We are not charity cases."
"I didn't say you were."
"You don't even know us."
Damian's expression became unreadable.
"No. I don't."
"Then why are you doing this?"
That question stopped him.
People rarely asked Damian why.
Most cared only what he could do for them.
Why was dangerous territory.
He looked toward the window.
Lightning illuminated Chicago beyond the glass.
"Because I don't want a dead employee discovered in my bedroom."
Elena blinked.
"That's your reason?"
"It's the one you're getting."
Twenty minutes later, Dr. Samuel Pierce arrived carrying a medical bag and a deeply irritated expression.
He was one of the few men alive who entered Damian Cross's house without fear.
Until he saw Elena.
Then amusement replaced irritation.
"Well."
Damian's stare hardened.
"Don't."
Samuel smiled.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"Probably."
Elena attempted to stand.
"I really don't need—"
"Sit."
Damian and Samuel said it simultaneously.
Elena sat.
Samuel examined her while Damian stood beside the windows.
"Temperature 103.4. Chest sounds rough. Severe dehydration. Probably influenza, possibly moving toward pneumonia."
Elena's face tightened.
"Can I work tomorrow?"
Samuel stared at her.
Damian actually turned around.
"No," both men said.
She looked offended.
Samuel handed her water.
"You need rest, fluids and medication. If your breathing worsens, hospital."
"I can't miss work."
Damian's eyes settled on her.
"You aren't missing work."
Elena misunderstood.
Relief crossed her face.
"I'll come in."
"No. You're getting paid."
Her expression changed again.
"I don't want—"
"You don't seem to understand how employment works in this house."
"It works by threatening people who miss a dust spot."
Samuel coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
Damian's mouth almost moved.
Almost.
"Mrs. Voss runs housekeeping."
"It's your house."
"Noted."
Elena looked as if she had just realized she had criticized the most feared crime boss in Chicago while sitting in his bed.
She became very interested in the glass of water.
Forty minutes later, Rafael returned.
But he wasn't alone.
Ethan came through the bedroom doorway wearing an oversized winter coat, his pale face emerging beneath a knit cap.
He was painfully thin.
Elena immediately tried to rise.
"Ethan."
The boy crossed the room and hugged her.
"I'm okay," he whispered.
Elena buried her face against his shoulder.
Damian watched silently.
He understood loyalty.
He understood sacrifice.
But there was something different in the way Elena held the boy as though her own body could protect him from everything in the world.
Samuel crouched beside Ethan.
"Your sister told us you're on dialysis."
The boy nodded.
"Three times a week."
"Kidney failure from autoimmune damage?"
Another nod.
Samuel glanced at Damian.
Damian didn't like the expression.
Professional concern.
"Let me look at your latest medication list."
Ethan handed him a folded hospital document from his pocket.
Samuel read the first page.
Then the second.
His eyebrows drew together.
"When did your dosage change?"
"Last week."
"Which doctor changed it?"
"Dr. Lawson."
Samuel stared at the paper.
Damian recognized trouble before Samuel spoke.
"There is no Dr. Lawson in pediatric nephrology at Mercy General."
Elena froze.
"What?"
Samuel turned the paper toward the lamp.
"This signature isn't from anyone in Ethan's treatment team."
Damian crossed the room.
"Meaning?"
Samuel's face had lost all humor.
"Meaning somebody altered this boy's medication orders."
Elena stared at her brother.
"Why?"
Samuel looked at Damian.
"I don't know."
Ethan swallowed.
"There was a man."
Elena pulled him closer.
"What man?"
"At the hospital yesterday. He asked if Dad ever gave you a key."
Silence filled the bedroom.
Damian's expression changed.
"What kind of key?"
Ethan looked at him.
"A little brass one."
Elena went still.
Damian noticed.
"You have it."
"No."
"Elena."
Her fear returned.
Not fear of him.
Fear of whatever memory had just surfaced.
She slowly reached beneath the collar of her uniform.
A thin chain appeared.
At the end hung a small brass key.
"My father gave me this before he died."
Damian stared at it.
Then at Elena.
"What was your father's name?"
"Arthur Hale."
For the first time in years, Damian Cross looked genuinely shaken.
Behind him, Samuel whispered, "Damian?"
But Damian barely heard him.
Arthur Hale.
A name buried five years ago.
A man Damian had been told died before he could reveal who betrayed the Cross family.
Damian looked at Elena as rain slammed against the windows.
"Your father didn't die in an accident."
Her face went white.
"What?"
Damian's voice became colder than the December storm.
May you like
"Arthur Hale was murdered."
And somewhere downstairs, an alarm began to scream.
