Chapter 1 - The Warm Towels
Clara did not hesitate when Matteo Moretti asked what she needed.
"I need four large, heated towels from the kitchen," Clara said.
Matteo gestured to one of his armed guards with a single flick of his wrist.
The guard turned immediately and sprinted toward the service doors.
Bianca let out a loud, theatrical sigh of disbelief.
"You are letting a clumsy maid give orders to your men?" Bianca asked.
Matteo ignored the elegant woman entirely.
His dark eyes remained fixed on Clara and the trembling dog.
"What else do you need?" Matteo asked softly.
"I need everyone else to leave the courtyard," Clara replied.
The groomer holding the leather lead opened his mouth to protest.
Matteo simply looked at the man, and the groomer immediately dropped the lead and walked away.
Within sixty seconds, the courtyard was empty except for Clara, Matteo, and the massive Cane Corso.
The guard returned with a stack of thick, steaming white towels and quickly retreated.
Clara slowly reached out and took the warm fabric.
She did not stand up or tower over the terrified animal.
Instead, she crawled forward on her wet, freezing knees until she was inches from Bruno.
"It is just a towel," she whispered to the dog.
Bruno bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his massive chest.
Clara kept her hands steady and gently draped the warm towel over his shivering back.
The dog flinched, expecting pain, but only felt the soothing heat of the fabric.
His growl slowly faded into a soft, confused whimper.
Clara began to carefully dry his thick black coat, avoiding his injured hind leg.
Matteo stood perfectly still in the snow, watching her with intense fascination.
As Clara dried the thick folds of skin around Bruno's neck, her fingers brushed against something hard.
It was hidden deep underneath the heavy leather of his collar.
She gently separated the fur and saw a tiny, flashing red light embedded in the leather.
Before she could process what she was looking at, heavy footsteps rushed across the stone.
The fired groomer had returned, holding a sharp hunting knife in his right hand.
"Get your hands off that collar!" the man screamed as he lunged toward Clara.
A deafening gunshot echoed through the frozen courtyard.
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The groomer screamed in agony and dropped the knife as a bullet shattered his wrist.
Matteo slowly lowered his smoking pistol, his face a mask of pure, terrifying rage.
