Chapter 1 - The Lie Richard Told Too Early
Emily Turner’s eyes had almost closed for good when headlights cut through the white wall of snow.
At first, she thought the light was part of a dream. Then an engine slowed somewhere beyond the trees, tires crunching over the buried drive. She tried to lift her head from the trunk she had collapsed against, but her neck barely obeyed.
A black SUV stopped twenty feet away.
The rear door opened.
A man stepped into the storm without an umbrella.
He was tall, broad through the shoulders, dressed in a black overcoat that immediately began collecting snow. His dark hair was already wet at the temples. Even through Emily’s confusion, she noticed the hard square line of his jaw, the weathered face, the stillness in the way he looked at her.
Two men in suits climbed out behind him.
“Boss,” one warned, “the road’s icing over.”
The man ignored him.
He came straight toward Emily.
She tried to push herself upright.
“Don’t,” he said.
His voice was deep and calm, almost unnervingly calm.
“I have to get to the gate,” Emily whispered.
“You’re going nowhere on foot.”
He crouched in the snow and pressed two gloved fingers carefully against the side of her neck.
Emily flinched.
“Easy.” His eyes dropped to her thin uniform jacket, then to the darkening marks around her upper arm where Richard had gripped her. Something changed in his face. “Who put you outside like this?”
She tried to answer, but her teeth were chattering too violently.
Behind him, one of the suited men said, “Mr. Grimm, that’s one of the house staff.”
Emily’s blurred gaze snapped back to the man in front of her.
Nicholas Grimm.
She had seen photographs, of course. Every employee had. But photographs had never captured the weight of his presence. Nicholas looked less polished in the storm and more dangerous. Black wool, wet hair, black gloves, silver watch. A man who did not need to raise his voice to make other people move.
“Emily Turner?” he asked.
She nodded once.
Then the world tilted.
Nicholas caught her before her head struck the tree.
“Car. Now.”
The next few seconds came in fragments. His arm beneath her knees. Her cheek against the heat of his chest. Snow melting against his coat. One of the men opening the rear door.
Emily tried to speak.
“The vase—”
“I don’t care about the vase.”
“But Mr. Caldwell said—”
“Nobody in my house gets left outside to die over porcelain.”
The certainty in his voice made her eyes sting.
He carried her into the SUV and wrapped his own coat around her legs. The driver turned the heat high.
Nicholas did not sit across from her. He stayed beside her, one hand around her wrist, counting her pulse.
“Stay awake.”
“I’m trying.”
“Tell me something.”
“What?”
“Anything.”
Emily swallowed. “I hate silver garland.”
One of the bodyguards looked away to hide a smile.
Nicholas didn’t.
“Good. Keep hating it.”
The SUV reached the front steps less than two minutes later.
The mansion doors opened before Nicholas touched them.
Richard Caldwell stood in the entrance hall.
His face changed when he saw Emily in Nicholas’s arms.
Shock came first.
Then fear.
Then, almost instantly, calculation.
“Mr. Grimm,” Richard said quickly. “Thank God you found her. She ran off after breaking the eighty-thousand-dollar Milan vase. I tried to stop her, but she became hysterical—”
Nicholas stopped walking.
The entire entrance hall went quiet.
Emily felt his arms tighten around her—not enough to hurt, just enough to make sure she was secure.
Nicholas looked at Richard.
“I didn’t ask why she was outside.”
Richard’s mouth closed.
Three staff members stood near the dining room doors. Rosa, one of the housekeepers, stared at the floor. Mr. Ellis from the kitchen looked pale.
Nicholas said, “You gave me an answer before I asked the question.”
“I was explaining—”
“You were rehearsing.”
Richard’s face reddened.
Emily could barely keep her eyes open, but she saw the broken vase scattered near the stairs.
Nicholas saw it too.
He stared at the fragments for one second.
Then he laughed once.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“That’s not an eighty-thousand-dollar vase.”
Richard froze.
Nicholas carried Emily past him.
“The original is in a climate-controlled vault in Manhattan. My father cracked it twenty years ago and replaced it with a six-hundred-dollar reproduction.”
Richard’s lips parted.
Nicholas turned his head slightly.
“So now I have two questions. Why did you lie about the vase, and why does she have your fingerprints bruised into her arm?”
Richard stepped forward. “She’s lying to you. She’s been stealing. Ask anyone. She’s been digging through staff files, asking about payroll, making accusations—”
Emily’s eyes opened wider.
Nicholas looked down at her.
“Payroll?”
Richard realized his mistake too late.
Emily’s voice came out weak.
“He didn’t throw me out because of the vase.”
Richard snapped, “Shut your mouth.”
Nicholas turned so fast the room seemed to shift with him.
“Say that to her again.”
Richard went silent.
Nicholas carried Emily toward the downstairs guest suite.
As they passed Rosa, Emily reached out weakly and caught the woman’s sleeve.
“Under the linen inventory,” she whispered.
Rosa’s eyes filled with alarm.
Nicholas stopped.
“What’s under the linen inventory?”
Emily looked at Richard across the hall.
For the first time since she had dropped the vase, she did not look afraid of him.
“A second payroll book.”
Richard’s face emptied.
Emily forced herself to finish.
“He’s been taking money from all of us.”
Nicholas slowly turned toward his house manager.
Outside, the storm hammered the windows.
May you like
Inside, not one person moved.
Then Nicholas said, very softly, “Lock the gates.”
