Chapter 1 - The Interrogation
The heavy metallic click of the deadbolt echoed through the freezing industrial kitchen like a gunshot.
Fay’s stomach dropped completely into her shoes.
She scrambled backward until her spine hit the stainless-steel cabinet.
There was nowhere left to run.
Vincent Cross slowly turned away from the locked door and looked at her.
He walked down the narrow aisle with the terrifying grace of a predator cornering its prey.
He did not stop until he was standing directly over her trembling form.
Fay pressed her hands against the cold floor, unable to meet his dark, ruthless eyes.
She expected him to fire her on the spot for creating a disturbance in his flawless household.
Instead, the most dangerous man in the city did the unthinkable.
Vincent ruined the knees of his bespoke charcoal suit by crouching down into the dirty, freezing puddle on the linoleum.
He was now at eye level with her.
He reached out slowly, his large hand moving toward her face.
Fay flinched, instinctively squeezing her eyes shut.
Vincent did not strike her.
His warm fingers gently brushed against the mottled violet bruise blooming across her jawline.
The contrast between his violent reputation and the gentleness of his touch made Fay’s breath catch in her throat.
"Who hurt you?" Vincent asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in her chest.
Fay opened her eyes, terrified of breaking the golden rule of remaining invisible.
"I tripped in the hallway, sir," Fay lied, her voice sounding like crushed gravel.
Vincent’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking in a way that screamed he was losing his patience.
"Do not lie to me, Fay," he warned softly.
Fay froze.
In three years, he had never once used her first name.
She did not know he even knew it.
"Give me a name," Vincent commanded again, his gray eyes darkening with a lethal promise.
Fay thought about her mother’s medical bills and the risk of losing everything.
She opened her mouth, but the fear strangled the words before they could escape.
Vincent slowly lowered his hand from her bruised face.
"You don't need to say it," Vincent whispered, his gaze shifting to the jagged cut on her finger.
"It was Donovan, wasn't it?"
Fay gasped, her silence confirming exactly what the mafia boss already knew.
Vincent stood up smoothly, adjusting his immaculate cuffs as if nothing had happened.
May you like
He looked down at her one final time.
"Go to Donovan's suite and clean up the mess," Vincent ordered coldly before unlocking the kitchen door and walking away.
