“Do you want me to stop?”
The question hangs between us. For a moment, she looks like she might give me an honest answer and drop the professional distance to tell me what she’s really thinking. “No,” she says quietly.
Before I can respond to that admission, Andrei appears in the doorway again. He takes in the scene of Danielle and I leaning toward each other across the desk, and his expression shifts to professional neutrality.
“I have updates on the customs situation,” he says simply.
Danielle immediately steps back from the desk, the moment broken. “I should finish this and let you handle your business.”
She gathers her supplies efficiently. I watch her work, noting the way she avoids looking at either Andrei or me directly, as if she can disappear simply by not drawing attention to herself.
“I’ll just finish dusting and get out of your way,” she murmurs, straightening the documents on my desk with careful precision before reaching for a feather duster from her caddy. Within minutes, she’s completed her tasks and moved toward the door. She pauses briefly, glancing back at me with an expression I can’t quite read, but it’s something between disappointment and relief.
She quietly slips out of the office, closing the door behind her with barely a sound. Andrei waits until her footsteps fade down the hallway before speaking.
Andrei gives me a quick update. The shipment change definitely seems linked to one of Luca’s corporations, and Rodriguez has agreed to a meeting later that night with Andrei. After he leaves, I remain at my desk, listening to the rain and thinking about the conversation business interrupted, as conversations with Danielle always seem to be.
For a moment, she’d seemed ready to drop her guard, to engage with me as something more than just an employer. The way she’d admitted she didn’t want me to stop watching her suggested a connection she’s been trying to hide, but every time we get close to real, something pulls us back to our assigned roles, allowing her once again to keep her secrets.
The question is whether those secrets include more about Leo, and if I’m prepared to wait for her to volunteer that information. Or do I need to confront her directly with what I suspect?
For now, I’ll wait, but not much longer.
15
Danielle
Iexpect to have another conversation with Radmir tonight, to continue where we left off when Andrei interrupted us earlier. Instead, Mrs. Yranda finds me in the hallway with a list of additional tasks that need completion before tomorrow’s scheduled maintenance.
“The parlor needs a thorough cleaning,” she says, consulting her ever-present clipboard. “The guest powder room also requires restocking.”
I nod and gather fresh supplies, wondering if this is Radmir’s way of keeping me here longer or simply routine household management. Either way, Leo is safe at Aunt Molly’s for the night, so I have time to complete whatever tasks are assigned.
The parlor is one of the estate’s more formal rooms, with expensive furniture and delicate decorative pieces that require careful attention. I dust the mantelpiece and polish the mahogany side tables while rain continues to drum against the windows. The storm that began this afternoon has intensified,with wind that rushes around the building and lightning that illuminates the room in brief, stark flashes of white.
It's like someone is outside taking a picture.
I’m arranging fresh flowers in a crystal vase when I hear something that makes me freeze. It’s a scraping noise, like something being forced against glass, that doesn’t belong to the storm or the normal settling of the house.
I turn toward the side window just as it explodes inward in a shower of glass and rain. A figure dressed in black launches through the opening, landing in a crouch before straightening to reveal a ski mask and dark clothing soaked from the storm. For a heartbeat, we stare at each other across the room. Then he moves toward me with purposeful steps, and terror floods my system.
I scream and grab the nearest object, a heavy glass vase from the side table, hurling it at his head with all the force I can muster. He ducks, and it shatters against the wall behind him, but the motion gives me precious seconds to back away. “Help,” I scream again, hoping someone will hear me over the storm. “Help me!”
The masked man closes the distance between us with frightening speed. I dodge around the sofa, using furniture as barriers, but he’s bigger and faster than I am. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe, and adrenaline makes my hands shake as I search for another weapon or escape route.
He feints left, then lunges right, catching me off guard. He closes his hand around my wrist, and I struggle against his grip, kicking and clawing with desperate energy.
“Stop fighting.” His voice is muffled by the mask. “This doesn’t have to hurt.”
“Let go of me you freak!” I twist in his grasp, trying to break free, but his hold is too strong.
Suddenly, the parlor door bursts open, and Radmir appears like an avenging angel. He takes in the scene of the broken window, my terror, and the masked intruder holding me as his expression turns murderous.
The intruder releases me and spins toward this new threat, but Radmir is already moving. He tackles the man with, driving him away from me and into the far wall with a dense thud.
They both bounce off and begin fighting.
Radmir is a good fighter, moving quickly to overwhelm his opponent. The intruder is skilled, but he’s no match for Radmir’s combination of size, speed, and deadly intent. Within moments, Radmir has him pinned against the wall, one arm twisted behind his back and the other hand at his throat.
