Chapter 1 - The Forbidden Door
Marin lunged after the puppy and shouted:
“Bruno, no!”
Dante Moretti stepped from the forbidden room holding a broken silver picture frame.
A date had been scratched into its back.
The date was tomorrow.
Dante stopped smiling.
Marin Holloway nearly collided with him.
The tray in her left hand tilted.
One champagne flute slid toward the edge.
She caught it with two fingers.
Another wasn't so lucky.
It hit the marble floor and shattered.
The ballroom went silent.
Bruno, the small golden-brown puppy responsible for the disaster, sat between Marin and Dante Moretti with a stolen black bow tie hanging from his mouth.
Nobody moved.
Marin's heart hammered.
Of all the people she could have embarrassed herself in front of, it had to be Dante Moretti.
The man wealthy businessmen lowered their voices around.
The man politicians greeted carefully.
The man newspapers described as a mysterious real-estate investor because nobody was foolish enough to print the other title people whispered behind closed doors.
Mafia boss.
Marin had worked in the Moretti mansion for eleven months.
She had never spoken to him directly.
She had certainly never entered his private west-wing room.
Every employee knew the rule.
That door stayed closed.
Always.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Marin said.
Her cheeks burned.
“I didn't mean to enter this room.”
Dante looked at her.
Then at Bruno.
The puppy shook the bow tie violently.
Dante's mouth twitched.
Marin stared.
Bruno sneezed.
Dante laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It lasted perhaps two seconds.
But the reaction behind Marin made it feel like someone had fired a gun into the ceiling.
Guests stopped breathing.
A waiter nearly dropped a bottle.
An elderly businessman turned toward his wife in disbelief.
Marin simply stood there.
Dante Moretti had laughed.
Because of her.
Or Bruno.
Probably Bruno.
Definitely Bruno.
“You're the first person in this house who made me laugh,” Dante said.
Marin swallowed.
“I think Bruno deserves most of the credit.”
Dante looked at the puppy.
“He stole Senator Bell's bow tie.”
Marin blinked.
“I suppose that makes him politically fearless.”
Dante laughed again.
That was worse.
Whispers spread through the ballroom.
Marin wished the marble floor would open.
Then she heard a woman's voice.
“Well, apparently standards have changed.”
Celeste Romano stood beside the champagne tower.
Thirty-two.
Beautiful.
Thin.
Daughter of one of the city's richest families.
Marin knew her reputation.
Everyone did.
For years, people had assumed Celeste would eventually marry Dante.
Celeste looked Marin up and down.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
“I didn't realize the entertainment tonight included the housekeeping staff.”
Several guests laughed.
Marin lowered her eyes.
She knew this game.
She had experienced versions of it her entire life.
The looks.
The jokes.
The fake concern.
The comments about what she ate.
The suggestion that a woman shaped like her should be grateful for whatever attention she received.
She had learned that defending herself often made cruel people crueler.
So she bent down and began collecting the broken glass.
“Leave it,” Dante said.
Marin stopped.
“I broke it.”
“I said leave it.”
His voice wasn't harsh toward her.
It was final.
A waiter hurried forward.
Celeste folded her arms.
“Oh, Dante. Don't embarrass the poor girl more than she already embarrassed herself.”
Marin's fingers tightened.
Dante turned toward Celeste.
“She hasn't embarrassed herself.”
Celeste smiled.
“Of course.”
“She was doing her job.”
“She was chasing a dog through your gala.”
“She was protecting my dog.”
Bruno immediately abandoned the bow tie and pressed himself against Marin's leg.
Dante noticed.
So did everyone else.
Celeste's smile faded.
Marin whispered, “Mr. Moretti, it's fine.”
“No.”
One word.
The room quieted again.
Dante stepped toward her.
He looked down at her gloved hands.
“Why are you wearing gloves?”
“Cleaning chemicals.”
“Your hands are injured?”
“Just irritated.”
He looked toward the head housekeeper.
Mrs. Voss stiffened.
“Why is an employee with injured hands carrying glass?”
Nobody answered.
Marin's embarrassment changed into alarm.
She didn't want anyone fired because of her.
“I volunteered.”
Dante looked back at her.
“Why?”
“Because we're short-staffed.”
“Why?”
Another silence.
Marin realized everyone knew the answer except him.
Three maids had been dismissed that morning.
Mrs. Voss claimed budget cuts.
Marin had believed her.
Now she wasn't sure.
Celeste gave an impatient sigh.
“This is ridiculous. We're discussing a maid at a gala raising millions of dollars.”
Marin rose.
She forced herself to meet Celeste's eyes.
“I'll return to the kitchen.”
“You should.”
Dante's expression changed.
The warmth disappeared.
He looked at Celeste.
“Enough.”
She laughed softly.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Celeste's face tightened.
Dante reached toward his right hand.
Marin noticed the silver ring.
She had seen it before.
Everyone had.
It wasn't a wedding band.
According to mansion gossip, it had belonged to Dante's mother.
He never removed it.
Until now.
He slid it from his finger.
The ballroom became so quiet Marin could hear Bruno panting.
Dante took Marin's hand.
She froze.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He removed her right glove carefully.
Her skin was red from detergent.
His jaw tightened.
Then he slipped the ring onto her finger.
Marin stared at it.
So did everyone else.
Celeste went white.
Dante turned toward the room.
“This woman is not someone you can humiliate.”
Nobody spoke.
Dante's voice remained calm.
“She is my future wife.”
Marin forgot how to breathe.
A glass dropped somewhere behind her.
Celeste whispered, “What did you say?”
Dante didn't look away from Marin.
She stared at him.
“This isn't funny.”
“I know.”
“You can't just—”
“I can.”
“Why?”
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Why would a man like Dante Moretti choose her?
A maid.
A woman he barely knew.
A woman currently wearing a stained apron and one rubber glove.
His expression softened.
“Because you were the only person in this house who treated me like a human.”
Marin's eyes filled.
But something didn't fit.
He didn't know her.
Not really.
Unless—
Her gaze moved to the forbidden room.
The broken silver frame was still in Dante's hand.
Inside it was an old photograph.
A woman.
Marin couldn't see the face clearly.
But she recognized the uniform.
Black dress.
White collar.
White apron.
A maid.
Exactly like hers.
Dante noticed where she was looking.
His expression hardened.
He quickly turned the photograph over.
Too late.
Marin had seen the writing beneath tomorrow's date.
Three words.
M.H. MUST DISAPPEAR.
Her initials.
Marin Holloway.
She stepped backward.
“What is that?”
Dante glanced toward the crowd.
Several guests were already recording on their phones.
His declaration was spreading through the city.
But his attention wasn't on them.
It was on the doorway behind Marin.
Someone had moved.
A man in a dark suit disappeared into the corridor.
Dante grabbed Marin's wrist.
“Stay beside me.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Why?”
“Because somebody expected you to enter that room tonight.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
He handed the photograph to his security chief.
“Lock the gates.”
The security chief stared at the writing.
Then immediately reached for his radio.
Celeste stepped forward.
“Dante, what is happening?”
He ignored her.
Marin looked down at the ring.
“What did you just drag me into?”
Dante's eyes met hers.
“Something that started before you ever came to work here.”
A scream came from the west corridor.
Bruno barked.
Everyone turned.
One of Dante's guards appeared at the doorway.
His face had gone pale.
“Boss.”
Dante moved in front of Marin.
“What?”
The guard held up a maid's identification badge.
Marin recognized it instantly.
Her own photograph stared back at her.
But her badge was clipped to her uniform.
She touched it.
Still there.
The guard slowly turned the duplicate over.
A message had been written across the back.
Dante read it.
His face changed.
Marin whispered, “What does it say?”
He didn't answer.
She took the badge from him.
Four words.
SHE WAS NEVER A HOLLOWAY.
Marin looked up.
May you like
Then the forbidden door behind them slowly opened from the inside.
Someone was waiting for her.
