Chapter 1 - The Marble Floor.
The first thing Adrian Cafalli noticed when he entered his Manhattan penthouse was that one of the table lamps was still on.
The second was the shape of a woman sleeping on the marble floor.
He stopped between the white double doors, one hand still resting on the brass handle.
Claire Dawson, the young maid who had worked in his home for nearly a year, lay on a nest of couch pillows and folded blankets beside the windows.
A baby was tucked against her chest.
For one stunned second, Adrian thought he had walked into the wrong apartment.
Then Claire opened her eyes.
Fear hit her face before recognition did.
She sat up so quickly that the blanket slipped from her shoulder.
The infant stirred in her arms.
Adrian's confusion sharpened.
"What are you doing down there?"
Claire clutched the baby closer.
"Mr. Cafalli, please don't hurt him."
The words struck him harder than an accusation.
"Hurt him?"
Claire's lower lip trembled, but she forced herself to keep looking at him.
"He was sick."
She swallowed.
"They're watching my home. I had nowhere else to go."
Adrian crossed the room in three long steps and dropped to one knee beside them.
Claire recoiled until her back touched the sofa.
That movement irritated him more than he wanted to admit.
He had spent years building a reputation that made executives nervous and competitors cautious, but he had never wanted a frightened mother to look at him as if he were another threat.
"I'm not going to touch your son without permission," he said.
Claire stared at him.
"May I check his forehead?"
After a moment, she nodded.
Adrian placed the back of his fingers gently against the baby's skin.
The infant was warm.
Too warm.
His face changed at once.
"How long has he had a fever?"
"Since yesterday afternoon."
"Has a doctor seen him?"
Claire looked down.
That answer came without words.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Why not?"
"Because they followed me to the clinic."
The baby made a small, exhausted sound.
Claire kissed his forehead and whispered something Adrian could not hear.
He looked toward the dark city beyond the glass.
Thousands of windows glittered across Manhattan.
Any one of them could hide someone watching this building.
"Who's following you?"
Claire's fingers froze around the baby's tiny hand.
"I don't know their names."
"Then tell me what you do know."
She hesitated so long that Adrian heard the hum of the refrigerator in the next room.
Finally, she leaned closer.
"They have a tattoo."
"What kind?"
"A black scorpion."
Adrian went completely still.
Claire noticed.
"You know it."
He rose slowly.
The concern in his expression hardened into something colder.
"You're staying here."
Claire blinked.
"Mr. Cafalli—"
"You and the baby are not leaving this apartment tonight."
He reached for his phone.
Before he could unlock it, the private elevator chimed.
No one was supposed to have access to his floor.
Adrian looked toward the foyer.
May you like
Claire's face drained of color.
Then three slow knocks sounded against the double doors.
