Chapter 1 - The Poker and the Promenade
The silence in the grand foyer was so absolute that I could hear the rain tapping a frantic Morse code against the high stained-glass dome twenty feet above us.
Dominic Caruso did not raise his hands. He did not drop his wet wool coat. Instead, a slow, dangerous amusement curled the edges of his mouth—a faint twitch of muscle that suggested he found the sight of a woman in floral pajama pants threatening him with a wrought-iron tool either profoundly ridiculous or entirely fascinating.
Behind him, the larger man—presumably the muscle, though he moved with the economical grace of a shadow—shifted his weight, his hand dipping slightly toward the tailored line of his left armpit.
"Easy, Leo," Dominic said, his voice a low, gravel-rich baritone that seemed to vibrate against the marble floorboards. He took half a step forward, completely ignoring the four feet of heavy iron pointed directly at his sternum. "The lady has the high ground. And an impressive grip."
"I am not a lady right now, I am an adrenaline-fueled hazard," I snapped, my knuckles turning white around the cold iron. "Who are you? Aunt Rosa said you weren't back until Friday! If you're a burglar with a very specific tailoring budget, I promise you, the silver service is locked in the butler's pantry."
Dominic’s dark eyes swept over me, taking in the pink satin robe, the ridiculous pajamas, and the fierce, unyielding set of my jaw. Then, his gaze drifted past me, tracking toward the grand double-arched hallway leading to the west wing.
Something shifted in his expression. The amusement flickered out, replaced by a sudden, intense stillness.
"Rosa didn't mention an estate manager," Dominic said quietly, taking another step closer. The tip of the poker was now inches from his chest. "She said she hired an agency. A professional."
"I am a professional," I retorted, refusing to yield ground. "And my name is Clara Vance. Now, identify yourself before I ring the local sheriff and let him explain why there are two unannounced apex predators standing in my hallway."
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Dominic didn't answer right away. He raised his hand, gesturing for Leo to stand down. Then, slowly, with deliberate slowness, he reached up and unbuttoned his wet coat, letting it slide off his shoulders to puddle on the expensive runner rug.
"I am Dominic Caruso," he said softly. "And this is my house."
