Chapter 17
He was the one making it ugly. “Stay on this floor.” His voice was rough. “Don’t take her down to the kitchen. Have Carmine send food up through the dumbwaiter.” Tessa nodded. “Lock the hallway door.” “Okay.” Zo turned to Gabe. “Let’s go.” His expression hardened. “We’re going to remind the Morettis why they don’t cross 47th Street.” He left. The heavy oak door clicked shut. Silence filled the study. Tessa locked the door as ordered. Then she remained against the heavy wood, listening as the men’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway. She looked toward her daughter. Mia was quietly counting on her fingers, entirely unaware of the blood that might soon be spilled to maintain the walls keeping her safe. For the first time, Tessa understood the reality of her new life. She was no longer simply an employee. She and Mia had become a vulnerability inside the life of a man who did not permit vulnerabilities. And inside a world built on violence, sanctuary could be the most dangerous thing a person possessed.
At 3:00 a.m., the grandfather clock in the downstairs foyer chimed. The Rossi estate was silent beneath the freezing fog rolling from Lake Michigan. On the third floor, Tessa lay awake. She was accustomed to sleeping in 3-hour increments. Her mind had been permanently trained to listen for the alarm from Mia’s continuous glucose monitor or for collection agents pounding against an apartment door. Here, the silence was absolute. Thick. Expensive. Heavily guarded. But that night, something interrupted it. Not a loud sound. A faint, wet drag of leather against hardwood. Then a heavy, restrained exhale. Tessa got out of bed. She wore a simple cotton nightgown. Her bare feet made almost no sound against the runner as she entered the hallway. Recessed lights had been dimmed to a soft amber. At the far end, the door to Zo’s private bathroom stood slightly open, spilling harsh white light onto the floor.
