Chapter 2
He stood like a concrete pillar inside the deteriorating office until Tessa’s grip loosened slightly.
“We are going to walk toward my vehicle.”
Roman looked down.
“I will keep my arm around you.”
“You will look at your shoes until we are outside.”
His expression remained controlled.
“Do you understand?”
Tessa looked toward his face.
His eyes were gentle while they rested on her.
A cold and terrifying absence remained near their edges.
He was not a chief executive then.
He was exactly what the rumors claimed.
Tessa nodded.
Roman placed his arm securely around her shoulders and drew her against his side.
He led her into the corridor.
She attempted to obey and look toward the floor.
Instinct defeated her.
Her attention moved sideways.
Two men lay over the floorboards.
One remained motionless with his face toward the wall. A dark pool widened beneath his head.
The other lay curled over himself, holding a knee bent at an impossible angle.
He whimpered while looking at Roman with complete terror.
Roman did not glance toward either man.
He stepped across the injured man’s legs as though crossing a puddle.
“Keep your eyes lowered, Tessa.”
His tone was gentle but final.
They descended and left through the warehouse’s side entrance.
Cold night air struck her face.
It smelled of salt and approaching rain.
A black sport utility vehicle waited inside the alley with its headlights off.
Carmine stood beside the open rear entrance.
He examined Roman’s bloody hand and then Tessa.
His expression remained empty.
“Boss?”
“Handle the situation upstairs.”
Roman helped Tessa enter the vehicle.
“Hodges participated.”
His voice became colder.
“Find him.”
Roman paused.
“Do not kill him until I speak with him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carmine closed the entrance.
The vehicle’s interior was warm and smelled of leather.
Roman sat beside Tessa, leaving approximately 1 ft of space between them.
The contact had ended.
The sudden absence of his warmth made her shake again.
The driver entered traffic. Tires moved over damp pavement.
Tessa rested both hands over her lap.
Small drops of blood marked her fingers, transferred from Roman’s shirt when she seized him.
She stared at them.
Roman watched.
He removed a clean white handkerchief from his pocket.
Without asking, he took her hands and carefully removed the blood.
“I am sorry you witnessed that.”
His voice carried exhaustion as the adrenaline subsided.
Tessa raised her attention.
Bruising had begun forming over Roman’s knuckles.
Tension still held his jaw.
He had been a monster to the men inside the warehouse.
He was a monster to the city.
He had abandoned everything to remove her from the darkness.
“You came.”
Her voice remained damaged.
Roman stopped wiping her hands.
His dark eyes met hers beneath the changing streetlights.
Three years of unspoken things seemed to enter the space between them.
“Tessa.”
His thumb passed lightly over her knuckles.
“If you call, I will always come.”
The drive toward the city became a lesson in silence.
Heavy rain finally began, striking the reinforced windows and transforming streetlights into fractured lines of color.
Tessa watched the glass.
The collapse following fear had emptied her.
Her limbs felt heavy.
Roman’s presence remained beside her like a source of heat inside the cool leather compartment.
He used his primary telephone with 1 hand, his thumb moving rapidly across the screen.
The hand with bruised, divided knuckles rested over his thigh.
The vehicle did not turn toward Tessa’s neighborhood.
When the driver used the exit leading into the financial district, she looked at Roman.
“My apartment is in the opposite direction.”
Her voice had lost its usual professional precision.
Roman did not raise his attention from the screen.
“You are not going home.”
“I need to go home.”
“Hodges possesses your employment file.”
Roman sent the message, locked the telephone, and looked toward her.
“He has your address.”
His voice remained calm.
“Until I know who purchased the stolen cargo, your apartment is unsafe.”
“You are coming with me.”
“I have a cat.”
The statement was ordinary and irrelevant, but her mind reached desperately toward familiar parts of her life.
The water bill.
Laundry inside the machine.
The orange animal waiting beside the food dish.
Going with Roman meant admitting that her ordinary existence had been interrupted and perhaps could not resume.
Roman touched the glass partition.
It lowered approximately 2 inches.
“Contact Leo.”
Roman addressed the driver.
“Send him to Miss Quinn’s apartment inside the West End.”
He continued.
“He will collect the cat and every necessary supply.”
Roman named the destination.
“Deliver them to the secure residence on 4th.”
“Yes, boss.”
The partition rose.
Roman looked toward Tessa.
“The cat will be unharmed.”
His tone allowed no argument.
“You are staying inside my residence.”
Tessa nodded slowly and rested her head against the seat.
Ten minutes later, the vehicle entered a private garage beneath a glass high-rise.
Roman led her toward an elevator that opened directly into his penthouse.
Tessa had managed his accounts for 3 years.
She knew the property’s value.
Seeing the place was different from processing its taxes inside a ledger.
The penthouse was large, minimal, and oppressively quiet.
Glass walls overlooked the city.
Cold slate flooring, black leather furniture, and the absence of photographs or personal objects made it resemble a museum.
It was the home of a ghost.
“The guest room is along the corridor to the left.”
Roman removed the damaged jacket and placed it over a chair.
“The bathroom contains everything you require.”
He looked toward her.
“Shower.”
His voice softened slightly.
“Secure the entrance if it helps.”
Roman turned toward the kitchen island.
“I need to make several calls.”
He flexed his right hand and winced.
The blood over his knuckles had dried into dark cracks.
Tessa watched him.
She should have entered the guest room, locked the entrance, and allowed herself to collapse.
Instead, the instincts that made her the best secretary Roman had ever employed took control.
They were a form of defense.
A task prevented her from thinking about the dead man inside the warehouse.
“Where is the medical kit?”
Roman looked toward her from across the counter.
“I will manage it.”
“You currently have only 1 useful hand.”
Tessa’s voice flattened into the firm tone she used when he attempted to avoid formal meetings.
“You require it to operate the telephone.”
She held his eyes.
“Where is the kit, Roman?”
A faint, humorless smile appeared near his mouth.
“The primary bathroom.”
He indicated the hallway.
“Lower drawer beneath the sink.”
Tessa collected the white plastic container and returned.
She opened it and removed antiseptic, gauze, and medical tape.
“Sit.”
She indicated a stool.
Roman obeyed.
He placed his injured hand over the granite.
Tessa poured antiseptic over a cotton pad.
She did not warn him that it would hurt.
She entered his space, her hip brushing his knee, and took his hand.
His fingers were large and marked by years of things she did not want to imagine.
Tessa pressed the antiseptic against the damaged skin.
Roman did not react visibly.
One muscle moved inside his jaw.
His breathing stayed even.
He watched her face rather than his hand.
“You are quiet.”
His voice moved through the empty apartment.
“I am concentrating.”
Tessa removed dried blood and exposed the divided skin.
“You are no longer trembling.”
“I have entered shock.”
Her delivery remained dry.
“It is more productive.”
Roman released a brief, rough breath that could have been laughter.
He leaned nearer.
His chest remained only inches from her arm.
“I am sorry this reached you.”
Tessa stopped.
Her thumb remained against his wrist.
She could feel his pulse, slow and steady.
“You did not bring it to my entrance.”
Her gaze stayed over his hand.
“I entered the wrong room.”
“I am an adult.”
Tessa’s voice remained quiet.
“I understood who employed me.”
“Did you?”
The question carried the weight of the men abandoned inside the warehouse.
Understanding numbers inside a record was different from watching someone choke over broken teeth.
Tessa finally looked up.
Roman’s face was close.
The polished executive mask had disappeared.
Only the hardened man beneath it remained.
He was offering her an exit.
Roman waited for disgust.
He waited for her to call him a monster, request compensation, and leave the state.
Tessa remembered the locked office, the keys moving inside the entrance, and the certainty that she would die.
Then she remembered Roman’s voice beyond the door.
“You kept me safe.”
Her voice was steady.
She wrapped gauze over his knuckles, drawing the clean material tightly around his hand.
“That is the only thing that matters tonight.”
Tessa secured the final section with tape and touched the back of his bandaged hand.
“I am going to shower.”
Roman watched her enter the hallway.
His hand remained over the counter.
For the 1st time in 10 years, he did not know his next move.
Morning inside the penthouse was painfully bright.
Tessa awakened inside a bed almost as large as an island and beneath sheets resembling spun silk.
For 3 seconds, she did not remember where she was.
Then the warehouse returned.
She sat upright.
Her clothing had been cleaned, pressed, and folded over a chair near the window.
A new toothbrush remained inside its packaging beside the sink.
Roman Valorie’s world operated through an unseen structure of favors and silent employees.
Tessa showered, dressed, and entered the main living area.
Dark coffee filled the air.
Roman stood beside the windows wearing charcoal trousers and a black turtleneck.
He held a tablet inside his left hand and moved through documents.
A cup of black coffee rested over the table behind him.
Beside it, lying over the morning newspaper, was a suppressed semiautomatic pistol.
The contrast summarized Roman Valorie completely.
“Good morning.”
He did not turn.
“There is coffee inside the kitchen.”
Roman continued.
“Your cat is terrorizing the security personnel at the other residence.”
“He consumed half a pound of imported salmon.”
Tessa poured coffee and leaned against the counter.
“His name is Barnaby.”
She looked toward Roman.
“He has a sensitive stomach.”
Her voice remained dry.
“You will pay to clean the carpet.”
Roman lowered the tablet.
His attention moved over her face, assessing her condition.
He appeared satisfied by what he found.
“I can afford it.”
His primary telephone rang.
The sharp noise cut through the quiet apartment.
Roman set down the tablet and answered without examining the display.
“Speak.”
Tessa watched the change.
The domestic ease vanished.
The room seemed to become colder.
May you like
“Where?”
Roman listened.
