Chapter 1 - The Hand I Wouldn’t Release
The silver tray slipped from Naomi Parker’s fingers as she whispered, “Something’s wrong.”
Matteo Marino reached her before she hit the floor and found a folded linen trapped beneath the shattered crystal.
A dark red stain marked one corner.
It wasn’t wine.
Matteo suddenly realized this wasn’t exhaustion.
The crash had silenced thirty people.
One second earlier, the private reception inside the Marino mansion had been filled with low conversation, expensive crystal, and the soft music of a string quartet stationed beyond the marble foyer.
Now nobody moved.
Naomi swayed.
Her knees buckled.
Matteo crossed the distance between them with a speed that startled even the men who had worked for him for years.
“Naomi.”
She heard his voice as though it came from somewhere underwater.
Then strong arms caught her.
Matteo Marino was a man accustomed to people moving out of his way. At thirty-three, he controlled legitimate businesses stretching from Manhattan construction companies to shipping interests along the East Coast. Rumors attached darker words to his name.
Boss.
King.
Mafia.
People lowered their voices when Matteo entered a room.
Naomi had never done that.
Maybe that was why he had noticed her.
She had arrived at the mansion eleven months earlier with two suitcases, a recommendation from a hotel supervisor in Queens, and precisely eighty-seven dollars in her checking account.
She worked hard.
She spoke little.
She never flirted with Matteo.
She never asked him for anything.
And whenever somebody treated her cruelly because of her size or because she wore a maid’s uniform, Naomi simply lifted her chin and continued working.
Matteo had watched all of it.
He had also noticed something else during the past week.
She was becoming pale.
Too pale.
“Sir,” housekeeper Rosa Bellini said, hurrying forward. “Let us take her.”
Matteo looked down.
Naomi’s eyelids fluttered.
Her breathing was shallow.
“No.”
The single word stopped Rosa.
Matteo slipped one arm beneath Naomi’s knees and the other behind her back.
Then he lifted her.
Several people stared.
Naomi was not a tiny woman. She was plus-size, soft and curvy, and had spent most of her life hearing people make cruel assumptions about her body.
Matteo showed no hesitation.
He carried her through the foyer.
“Call Dr. Bennett,” he ordered.
His security chief, Luca Ferraro, immediately reached for his phone.
“Tell him now.”
Naomi stirred against Matteo’s chest.
“I can walk.”
“No.”
“I’m heavy.”
Matteo stopped.
His expression changed.
“Never say that to me again.”
Naomi blinked.
He continued toward the stairs.
Behind them, whispers began.
Matteo turned his head.
They stopped.
He carried Naomi upstairs into his private suite because it was closer than the guest wing.
The enormous white bed had been made less than an hour earlier.
Matteo lowered her carefully.
Her fingers caught his sleeve.
“Please…”
“What?”
Naomi’s eyes barely opened.
“Don’t fire me.”
Something tightened inside him.
“You collapsed.”
“I need this job.”
“You need a doctor.”
“I can still work.”
“No.”
Fear flashed across her face.
Matteo understood instantly.
“No,” he corrected. “You’re not fired.”
Her body relaxed.
He pulled the blanket over her.
When he tried to stand, Naomi’s hand slid down his wrist.
Her fingers closed around his.
Matteo froze.
Nobody touched Matteo Marino casually.
Not employees.
Not associates.
Sometimes not even members of his own family.
Yet this exhausted woman held his hand as if it were the only safe thing she could find.
“Please don’t go,” Naomi whispered.
Behind him, Luca stared.
Rosa stared.
Two security men standing near the doorway looked as though somebody had overturned the laws of physics.
Matteo slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m here.”
Naomi’s grip loosened slightly but did not release him.
Dr. Samuel Bennett arrived twenty-three minutes later.
He was sixty-one and had known the Marino family for decades.
He entered carrying a black medical bag and stopped when he saw Matteo sitting beside the unconscious maid.
Samuel wisely said nothing.
“Everybody out,” Matteo ordered.
Rosa hesitated.
“Sir, perhaps I should—”
“Out.”
They left.
Samuel examined Naomi.
Blood pressure.
Pulse.
Temperature.
Pupils.
He asked Matteo several questions.
“How long has she been unwell?”
“I don’t know.”
“You employ her.”
“I don’t monitor when people eat.”
“You monitor everything else.”
Matteo gave him a look.
Samuel continued.
“Has she complained of dizziness?”
“Yesterday.”
“You knew?”
“She dropped a glass.”
“And?”
“She said she hadn’t eaten breakfast.”
Samuel frowned.
He rolled up Naomi’s sleeve.
Matteo saw faint bruising near her inner arm.
His face hardened.
“What is that?”
Samuel examined it.
“Could be nothing.”
“That answer is unacceptable.”
“Then give me twenty minutes.”
He drew blood.
Naomi stirred again.
Her eyes opened.
For several seconds she looked confused.
Then she realized where she was.
Matteo’s bedroom.
Matteo beside her.
Her hand wrapped around his.
She released him immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I touched you.”
“That’s generally what hands are for.”
Naomi almost smiled.
Almost.
Then fear returned.
“I have to get downstairs.”
“No.”
“The dinner—”
“Is continuing without you.”
“Mrs. Bellini will be furious.”
“Rosa is worried about you.”
Naomi tried to sit.
The room tilted.
Matteo caught her shoulder.
“Stay down.”
She obeyed.
Samuel watched them.
“How have you been feeling lately, Naomi?”
“Tired.”
“How tired?”
She avoided his eyes.
“Normal tired.”
“There’s no medical diagnosis called normal tired.”
Matteo almost smiled.
Naomi didn’t.
“Have you been eating?”
“Yes.”
Samuel waited.
Naomi sighed.
“Mostly.”
“When did you eat today?”
Silence.
Matteo looked at her.
“Naomi.”
“I had coffee.”
“At what time?”
“Six.”
“It’s nine-thirty at night.”
“I was busy.”
Matteo stood.
His anger seemed to fill the room.
Naomi flinched.
He noticed.
Immediately, he controlled himself.
“I’m not angry with you.”
“You look angry.”
“I am.”
“With me?”
“No.”
That somehow frightened her more.
Samuel continued examining her.
“Any medication?”
“No.”
“Supplements?”
“Just vitamins.”
“Where are they?”
“My room.”
Matteo turned toward the door.
“Luca.”
The security chief appeared instantly.
“Bring everything from Naomi’s bedside table.”
Naomi pushed herself upright.
“No.”
Both men looked at her.
Her face had gone white again.
“Don’t.”
Matteo studied her.
“Why?”
Naomi swallowed.
“There’s nothing important there.”
“Then you won’t mind.”
“Mr. Marino.”
“Matteo.”
She stared at him.
“You call me Mr. Marino when you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then call me Matteo.”
“This is inappropriate.”
“You’re in my bed holding my hand. We passed inappropriate twenty minutes ago.”
Despite everything, Naomi gave a tiny laugh.
It disappeared quickly.
Luca returned carrying a small plastic basket.
“Toiletries. Aspirin. Vitamins.”
Samuel picked up the vitamin bottle.
He examined it.
The seal had been broken.
“Are these yours?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you taken them?”
“Three weeks.”
“Who bought them?”
Naomi hesitated.
“They were left for me.”
Matteo’s attention sharpened.
“By whom?”
“I assumed Mrs. Bellini.”
Rosa was summoned.
She arrived looking confused.
“I didn’t give Naomi vitamins.”
The room became still.
Samuel opened the bottle.
He smelled one capsule.
Then another.
“These don’t all look identical.”
Matteo took one.
Samuel slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch it.”
That was when Matteo knew.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“Lock the house.”
Naomi stared at him.
“What?”
“Nobody leaves.”
There were thirty guests downstairs.
Business partners.
Lawyers.
Executives.
Members of Matteo’s extended family.
Employees.
Security.
Matteo did not care.
Luca left immediately.
Naomi tried to protest.
“Matteo, you can’t imprison people because I fainted.”
“I can keep people inside my home while I determine whether someone poisoned an employee.”
The word poisoned emptied the color from Naomi’s face.
Samuel held up the capsule.
“I didn’t say poison.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking laboratory.”
Matteo called his private security laboratory.
The capsules would be tested immediately.
Naomi stared at the ceiling.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Maybe.”
“Why would anyone poison me?”
Matteo had been wondering exactly that.
Naomi was a maid.
She had no money.
No influence.
No enemies that he knew of.
But someone had entered the staff wing.
Someone had known which bedside table belonged to her.
Someone had replaced or tampered with something she consumed every morning.
That required access.
Planning.
Purpose.
Matteo sat beside her again.
“When did you first feel sick?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“Anything else unusual?”
“No.”
“Think.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“There were headaches.”
“What else?”
“Sometimes my hands shook.”
“What else?”
“Nightmares.”
Matteo frowned.
“About what?”
“I don’t remember.”
That answer sounded wrong.
Naomi knew it too.
She looked at him.
“There is one thing.”
“What?”
“Someone has been in my room.”
Matteo became perfectly still.
“How do you know?”
“My things kept moving.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I thought I was imagining it.”
“What moved?”
“A photograph.”
“Of?”
“My mother.”
Her voice softened.
“She died four years ago.”
Matteo said nothing.
“And my drawer was open twice.”
“What drawer?”
Naomi looked toward the basket Luca had brought.
“The bottom one.”
Luca returned just as Matteo asked, “What was inside it?”
Naomi hesitated.
“Letters.”
“What letters?”
“My father’s.”
Matteo glanced at Luca.
“Search the room.”
Naomi sat upright despite Samuel’s objection.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re private.”
“I don’t care about the letters.”
“I do.”
Matteo saw genuine panic.
“Fine. You come with us when Bennett says you can stand.”
Samuel objected.
Matteo ignored him.
Ten minutes later Naomi was in a wheelchair because Samuel refused to let her walk.
Matteo pushed it himself.
That caused another wave of stunned looks when they entered the staff corridor.
Naomi’s room was small but comfortable.
Everything appeared ordinary.
Until Luca opened the bottom drawer.
Empty.
Naomi gripped the wheelchair arms.
“No.”
“You said letters were here?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
“All gone?”
“Yes.”
Luca inspected the drawer.
Then he reached behind it.
His fingers found something taped beneath the wooden frame.
A small black device.
Naomi stared.
Matteo’s face changed.
Luca held it up.
“A tracker?”
“No,” Matteo said.
He recognized the model.
“Audio transmitter.”
Naomi stopped breathing.
Someone had been listening to her.
Inside Matteo Marino’s house.
Luca’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then slowly looked at Matteo.
“The lab has a preliminary result on one of the capsules.”
Matteo waited.
Luca’s expression hardened.
“It wasn’t a vitamin.”
Naomi whispered, “What was it?”
Luca opened his mouth.
Then the bedroom door behind them creaked.
Slowly.
May you like
Someone was standing on the other side.
And that person had Naomi’s missing letters.
