Chapter 2 - The Maid Who Saw His Foot Move
Bruno Vale arrived the following afternoon without an invitation.
Damian heard him before he saw him.
The sound of angry male voices traveled down the penthouse corridor.
A guard objected.
Bruno ignored him.
Then the bedroom doors swung open.
Bruno was forty-six, broad enough to fill most doorframes and vain enough to wear a gold chain over every shirt he owned.
He entered with two men.
Carlo stepped between them and Damian.
“Your appointment appears to be missing.”
Bruno smiled.
“I’m family.”
“No,” Damian said from the wheelchair. “You're payroll.”
Bruno's smile weakened.
Hannah was beside the bed changing a pillowcase.
Exactly where Damian wanted her.
Bruno looked toward him.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I heard you fired the nurses.”
“I dislike strangers.”
Bruno's gaze shifted toward Hannah.
“But apparently not all strangers.”
Hannah ignored him.
Bruno walked closer.
“Docks are complicated right now.”
“So I heard.”
“We lost personnel.”
“You lost my money.”
Bruno spread his hands.
“Collections are slow.”
Damian watched him carefully.
Before the accident, Bruno would never have entered without permission.
Never walked this close.
Never brought armed men upstairs.
The wheelchair had changed him.
Exactly as Damian predicted.
“The payment is due tonight,” Damian said.
Bruno laughed.
“No offense, boss, but things are changing.”
Carlo's posture tightened.
Damian remained still.
“How?”
“Guys need leadership.”
“I’m sitting in front of you.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
Hannah's hand stopped for half a second.
Damian noticed.
“So explain.”
Bruno leaned against the desk.
“You can't visit the docks.”
“No.”
“You can't handle meetings.”
“I’m handling one.”
“You can't defend yourself.”
The room became silent.
Carlo took one step forward.
Damian raised a hand.
Bruno smiled.
There.
The teeth.
“People are wondering whether temporary arrangements should be made.”
“Are you people?”
“I’m practical.”
Damian nodded slowly.
“You'll have your answer tomorrow.”
Bruno frowned.
“To what?”
“Whether you're still employed.”
Bruno laughed.
“You really think you're firing me from that chair?”
Damian stared at him.
“Yes.”
For one instant, old fear returned to Bruno’s face.
Then he remembered the wheelchair.
It vanished.
He walked toward the door.
As he passed Hannah, he grabbed her tray.
“What’s this?”
“Medication.”
He opened a bottle.
Hannah reached toward it.
“Please don't touch that.”
Bruno looked at her.
“Did you give me an order?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
He deliberately tipped the bottle.
Tablets scattered across the floor.
Hannah stared.
Bruno smiled.
Then stepped on one.
Damian felt heat climb through his chest.
Hannah knelt.
She began gathering the pills.
Bruno looked down at her.
“That's where staff belongs.”
Damian spoke.
“Bruno.”
Bruno turned.
“Pick them up.”
A laugh.
“What?”
“Every pill.”
Carlo watched quietly.
Bruno shook his head.
“You've got maids for that.”
Damian's voice became softer.
“Pick them up.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then something old and instinctive apparently entered Bruno's mind.
A memory of what Damian Russo had been before the wheelchair.
He crouched.
Hannah looked surprised.
Bruno gathered the tablets.
When he finished, Damian pointed toward the wastebasket.
“Throw them away.”
“They're probably fine.”
“Your shoe touched them.”
Bruno disposed of them.
Damian looked toward the door.
“Now get out.”
Bruno left.
His men followed.
Carlo closed the doors.
“That bought you twenty-four hours.”
“Enough.”
Hannah finished cleaning.
Then she turned toward Damian.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make him pick them up.”
“He dropped them.”
“He could have hurt you.”
Damian almost smiled.
“You're concerned for me?”
“I’m concerned about having to clean blood off the carpet.”
Carlo laughed.
Hannah gave him a look.
Then left.
Damian waited until the doors closed.
“She knows.”
Carlo stopped laughing.
“What?”
“She knows I can move.”
“How?”
“My foot cramped yesterday.”
“That's not proof.”
“She watches my legs.”
“Maybe she thinks you're attractive.”
Damian stared.
Carlo cleared his throat.
“Unlikely.”
Damian grabbed a paperweight and threw it.
Carlo caught it.
That night, Damian decided to test Hannah.
At 2:30 a.m., she entered with fresh water.
The penthouse was silent.
Carlo had supposedly gone downstairs.
Damian sat beside the bed.
Hannah replaced the glass.
Then moved toward the bathroom.
Damian let the blanket slide partly off his knees.
She returned.
Her eyes dropped.
Damian deliberately moved his left big toe.
Barely.
Hannah froze.
There.
He had her.
Their eyes met.
Damian spoke quietly.
“You saw that.”
Hannah did not answer.
“I said you saw it.”
She placed the pitcher down.
“Do you want me to say I didn't?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
Damian's expression hardened.
“How long have you known?”
“Not known.”
“Suspected.”
“Four days.”
“Why?”
“You have muscle tension.”
Damian blinked.
“What?”
“My mother worked rehabilitation after an accident.”
Hannah gestured toward his legs.
“People with the injury you supposedly have don't stabilize themselves the way you do when someone bumps the chair.”
Damian said nothing.
“You also shift your weight when your ribs hurt.”
“Anything else?”
“Your shoes.”
“My shoes?”
“The soles.”
She almost smiled.
“They were clean when you returned from the hospital. Three mornings later, there was dust on them.”
Damian stared.
Damn.
“You told anyone?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Not my business.”
“That answer is becoming less convincing.”
Hannah crossed her arms.
“You're pretending for a reason.”
“You aren't curious?”
“Of course I am.”
“Yet you stayed silent.”
“I work in a house where curiosity looks unhealthy.”
Damian laughed quietly.
Then his expression changed.
“If you expose me, people die.”
Hannah's smile vanished.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I trust you?”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“You shouldn't.”
Not the answer he expected.
“You don't know me.”
Hannah continued.
“You're testing everyone because somebody betrayed you.”
Damian became still.
“How do you know that?”
“You aren't hiding from enemies.”
“How can you tell?”
“Enemies already know you're injured.”
She looked toward the door.
“You're hiding the truth from people close enough to visit.”
Damian stared.
The maid was far more dangerous than her résumé suggested.
Hannah stepped toward the hallway.
“Good night, Mr. Russo.”
“Hannah.”
She stopped.
“Why won't you tell Vivien?”
Hannah turned.
A flicker of disgust entered her face.
“Because the first time she saw you in that wheelchair, she looked at you like you were spoiled food.”
Damian absorbed that.
Then Hannah added:
“And because she slapped me yesterday.”
“What?”
Hannah immediately regretted speaking.
“When?”
“In the service corridor.”
His hands tightened.
“Why?”
“I spilled coffee.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Damian started rising from the wheelchair.
Hannah's eyes widened.
“Sit down.”
He stopped halfway.
“What?”
“If you walk out there angry, your secret is over.”
Damian stared.
She was right.
He sat.
Hannah approached.
“She wanted a reaction.”
“From you?”
“Maybe from everybody.”
Damian's voice dropped.
“Did she hurt you?”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“My cheek stung.”
She touched his shoulder.
The gesture was instinctive.
Then she seemed to realize what she had done and removed her hand.
“Don't ruin your plan over me.”
Damian looked up.
“You think that's what I’d be doing?”
“Yes.”
“I disagree.”
Something shifted between them.
Small.
Dangerous.
Hannah stepped back.
“Good night.”
She left.
Five minutes later, Carlo entered.
“You look murderous.”
“Vivien hit Hannah.”
Carlo raised an eyebrow.
“That's what has you angry?”
Damian looked at him.
“What else happened?”
Carlo handed him a phone.
Security photographs showed Vivien entering a private restaurant.
Across from her sat Lorenzo Moretti.
Damian’s rival.
In the next image, they were holding hands.
Carlo said:
“Vivien isn't just leaving.”
Damian stared at the screen.
“She’s negotiating.”
“Yes.”
“With Moretti.”
“Yes.”
Damian handed the phone back.
He felt surprisingly little.
Then Carlo showed him another photograph.
This one stopped him.
Bruno Vale leaving the same restaurant twenty minutes later.
Damian leaned forward.
“Both of them?”
“Looks that way.”
“So Bruno isn't making his own move.”
“No.”
“He's taking orders.”
Carlo nodded.
Damian looked toward the hallway.
Vivien.
Bruno.
Moretti.
Perhaps one of them ordered the ambush.
Perhaps all three.
Then Carlo said:
“There’s one more problem.”
“What?”
“The security system recorded Hannah entering your office last night.”
Damian frowned.
“So?”
“She opened your safe.”
Damian's expression changed.
“What did she take?”
“We don't know.”
“Find her.”
Carlo did not move.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“She left the estate twenty minutes ago.”
May you like
Damian stared at the empty hallway.
For the first time since beginning the deception, he wondered whether he had been watching the wrong traitor.
