Chapter 2 - The New Rules of Engagement
By dawn, the Tribeca penthouse had been scrubbed clean—not by Apex Metropolitan Cleaning, but by Adrian’s personal cleanup crew, who left no trace of blood, broken glass, or betrayal behind.
Cara sat in a leather armchair in Adrian’s private study, a cup of hot tea cooling between her hands. Her knuckles were wrapped in sterile gauze. Across the massive oak desk, Adrian sat reviewing a thick stack of financial ledgers that had belonged to the late Vincent Rizzo.
The door swung open without knocking, and Marcus Kane—Adrian’s head of security, a mountain of a man with a broken nose and a permanent scowl—stepped inside.
“The hospital transfer went through, Boss,” Marcus reported, throwing a confirmation receipt onto the desk. “Mount Sinai received the wire twenty minutes ago. Toby Jenkins has been moved to the VIP pediatric wing. Dr. Vance personally assigned a specialized pulmonary team to his case.”
Cara’s breath hitched. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her lashes before she could stop them. She set her teacup down so hard the porcelain rattled against the saucer.
“You... you actually did it,” she whispered, staring across the desk at Adrian.
Adrian didn't look up from his ledgers immediately. When he finally raised his eyes, the coldness in them had softened—just a fraction, like ice cracking over a deep river.
“I don't make idle promises, Cara,” Adrian said quietly. He gesture toward the door. “Marcus arranged a secure town car. You’re going to go to Mount Sinai, see your brother, and pack your things from your apartment in Queens. By tonight, you’re moving into the secure guest quarters on the lower floor of this building.”
Cara stiffened. “Wait. Move here? You said I was working for you, not becoming your prisoner!”
“You are my executive assistant,” Adrian corrected smoothly, sliding a fresh employment contract across the mahogany desk. “Effective immediately. Your salary is two hundred and fifty thousand a year. Your primary responsibility is managing my schedule, screening my private correspondence, and... keeping your eyes open.”
Cara looked down at the paper. The numbers blurred. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was a fairy tale. A trap wrapped in silk and gold.
“Why me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “You have a hundred soldiers, fixers, and accountants who would kill for this job. Why trust a twenty-four-year-old maid from Queens?”
Adrian stood up, walking slowly around the desk until he was standing right beside her chair. He leaned down, his voice dropping into a low, intense murmur that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
“Because everyone in my world lies,” Adrian said. “They smile in my face while they slip aconitine into my glass. But you? You punched me in the jaw because you thought I was drinking poison. You risked your life for a man you were supposed to fear.”
May you like
He straightened his posture, buttoning his jacket.
“Loyalty cannot be bought, Cara,” Adrian continued. “And tonight, you proved yours. Now go see your brother. My car is waiting downstairs.”
