Chapter 1 - The Man Who Made One Phone Call
Faith Buchanan had spent most of her life believing that rescue came with a price.
Sometimes the price was obvious. A landlord who let rent slide for a week wanted an extra hundred dollars the next month. A boyfriend who paid for dinner brought it up during arguments. A professor who recommended her for a scholarship expected gratitude to become obedience.
So when Francesco Moretti told her there was no debt between them, Faith did not believe him.
She stood near the library window of his townhouse, wrapped in a soft cream sweater Maria had found for her, staring at the man who had pulled her half-conscious from a freezing alley the night before.
Francesco sat across from her in a charcoal suit that looked as if it had been cut directly onto his body. He had already made one phone call and somehow saved the nursing position Faith thought she had lost.
“That was kind,” she said carefully. “But I need you to understand something. I’m not staying here because I owe you.”
His dark eyes rested on her face.
“Good.”
The answer surprised her.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He leaned back. “Gratitude is not a contract, Miss Buchanan.”
“Faith.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Faith.”
Her phone buzzed on the side table.
Vincent.
Again.
She ignored it.
Francesco did too.
That somehow made the room feel safer.
“You should know,” she said, “he’ll probably come looking for me.”
“Your former fiancé?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a history of violence?”
Faith hesitated.
“He breaks things.”
“That was not my question.”
She met his eyes.
“He grabbed me twice. Hard enough to bruise. He apologized both times.”
Francesco’s expression did not change, but something in the room did.
“Did he ever threaten you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Faith.”
She looked down.
“He said no one would believe a girl like me over a man like him.”
Francesco was quiet for several seconds.
Then he asked, “What kind of man is he?”
The bitterness came before she could stop it.
“The kind who thinks expensive shoes make him important.”
That earned the smallest hint of amusement.
A knock interrupted them.
Arthur, one of the men Faith had seen the night before, stepped into the room. His suit was black, his face unreadable.
“Mr. Moretti. There is a man at the front gate asking for Miss Buchanan.”
Faith’s stomach tightened.
“Vincent?”
Arthur nodded.
“He says she stole property from him.”
Faith stood so quickly the room tilted.
“The ring.”
Francesco rose at once.
“What ring?”
Faith pulled the engagement ring from the pocket of Maria’s borrowed pants. “He threw it at me before he locked me out.”
Francesco looked at the diamond, then at Faith.
“Do you want to see him?”
“No.”
“Then you will not.”
She stared at him.
“You can just decide that?”
“On my property, yes.”
Faith almost smiled, but her phone buzzed again.
This time the message preview appeared before she could turn it over.
YOU TOOK SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T BELONG TO YOU.
Then another.
IF YOU DON’T COME OUT, I’LL TELL THE HOSPITAL WHAT YOU DID.
Her blood went cold.
Francesco noticed.
“What does he mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But that was a lie.
She knew exactly what Vincent was capable of when he felt cornered.
Faith walked toward the foyer.
Francesco stepped into her path.
“You said you didn’t want to see him.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Because he threatened your job?”
“Because I’m tired of hiding behind doors while men decide what happens to me.”
For the first time, Francesco looked impressed rather than protective.
“Then I will stand behind you.”
“Not in front?”
“Not unless you ask.”
That answer mattered.
They met Vincent outside the iron gate.
Rain still clung to the pavement. Vincent wore a camel coat over a navy suit and looked furious enough to crack glass. Rebecca waited in his car, her face pale behind the windshield.
Vincent’s anger flickered when he saw Francesco.
He knew the name.
Everyone in certain parts of New York knew the name.
“Faith,” Vincent said, forcing a smile. “Come home.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“You did that for me last night.”
His eyes cut toward Francesco.
“This is private.”
Faith said, “You made it public when you threw me into the street.”
“I didn’t throw you anywhere.”
“You changed the locks.”
“You left voluntarily.”
Rebecca looked away.
Vincent extended his hand. “Give me the ring.”
Faith held it up.
“You said it was mine.”
“That was before you betrayed me.”
A laugh escaped her.
“I walked in on you with my best friend.”
“You don’t know what you saw.”
Francesco’s eyebrow moved slightly.
Faith almost admired the arrogance required to say something that stupid.
Then Vincent lowered his voice.
“You want to play games? Fine. By tomorrow, Mount Sinai will have a formal complaint saying you stole controlled medication during training.”
Faith went still.
“That’s a lie.”
“I have documentation.”
“You forged something.”
Vincent smiled.
There it was.
Not proof.
Confidence.
Francesco spoke for the first time.
“You should leave.”
Vincent looked at him. “And you are?”
“Someone giving you an opportunity you will regret wasting.”
Vincent laughed nervously.
Then Faith saw Rebecca open the passenger door.
She stepped out into the cold wearing yesterday’s clothes.
“Vincent,” she said, “stop.”
His face hardened. “Get back in the car.”
Rebecca did not move.
Instead, she looked at Faith.
Her eyes were swollen.
“I need to tell you something.”
Faith stared at the woman who had helped destroy her engagement.
Rebecca swallowed.
“The pills he’s threatening you with?”
Vincent snapped, “Rebecca.”
She flinched but kept speaking.
“They’re real.”
Faith felt the ground shift beneath her.
Rebecca’s voice dropped.
“But you didn’t steal them.”
May you like
She looked at Vincent.
“He did.”
