Chapter 2 - Shadows on the HudsonBy 2:00 AM, the penthouse was completely silent.
The guests had gone hours ago, swept away in black SUVs with tinted windows. Marco and the security detail had retreated to the lower monitoring suite, leaving the fifty-third floor to the wind howling against the floor-to-ceiling glass and the faint hum of the city below.
I couldn't sleep. I was sitting on the edge of the narrow cot in my tiny basement-level staff quarters—a windowless box tucked behind the laundry room—staring at the yellow legal pad where I tracked my finances.
The numbers were horrifying.
My mother’s medical clinic bills, my brother Leo’s community college tuition, and my own rent had created a mountain of debt that my housekeeper’s salary—even with Nicholas’s generous bonuses—was barely chipping away at. Nicholas was right. If I quit today, I’d be drowning by Friday.
“If you want to survive under my roof, you’d better remember that being mine is the only thing keeping wolves like Roberto from tearing you to pieces.”
His words echoed in my head like a curse.
I stood up, needing air, needing to get out of the suffocating box of my room. Slipping on a soft gray cardigan over my white t-shirt and sweatpants, I crept quietly out into the hallway.
The main penthouse was dark, illuminated only by the ambient neon and sodium glow of Manhattan pouring through the massive glass walls of the living room. The city looked like a circuit board of gold and silver stretching out to the horizon.
I made my way toward the kitchen to pour a glass of water, but as I passed the corridor leading to Nicholas’s private study, I noticed a thin slice of yellow light spilling across the dark hardwood floor.
The door was cracked open an inch.
I should have turned around. I should have gone straight back to my room, pulled the blanket over my head, and pretended I was dead. But curiosity—or perhaps the reckless exhaustion gnawing at my bones—drew me forward.
I peeked inside.
Nicholas sat behind a massive walnut desk covered in architectural blueprints, financial ledgers, and a half-empty glass of amber whiskey. He had taken off his dress shirt; he wore only a fitted black t-shirt that showed the lean, hard lines of his shoulders and the faint, pale scar tracking across his left collarbone—a reminder of a past I only knew about through whispered rumors among the staff.
He wasn't looking at blueprints. He was staring at a photograph held loosely in his right hand.
His expression wasn't cold. It wasn't the mask of the ruthless mafia boss or the untouchable billionaire developer.
It was haunted.
Before I could back away, the floorboard beneath my sock creaked—a tiny, betraying squeak in the dead of night.
Nicholas didn't flinch, but his head snapped toward the door with the speed of a striking predator.
“Who’s there?” he called out, his voice sharp as broken glass.
There was nowhere to hide. I pushed the door open the rest of the way, my hands clasped tightly in front of me, feeling like a thief caught in a cathedral.
“It’s just me, Mr. DeLuca. Gabriella.”
Nicholas blinked, the dark intensity in his eyes shifting into something unreadable as he tossed the photograph face-down onto the desk. He leaned back in his leather chair, rubbing a hand over his face.
“What are you doing wandering around at two in the morning, Miss Hart? Looking for something to steal?” His voice was dry, lacking its usual venom, though the defensive wall was already snapping back into place.
“I couldn't sleep,” I said honestly, stepping just inside the threshold. I looked at the desk, then back up at him. “And I wanted to apologize.”
Nicholas raised a dark eyebrow, folding his hands over his flat stomach. “Apologize? Gabriella Hart apologizing to me? The world really is ending.”
“For losing my temper in the kitchen,” I said, ignoring his sarcasm. “I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. You pay my salary, and… and you protected me at the table, whether I liked the way you phrased it or not.”
Silence stretched between us. The wind outside rattled the double-paned glass against the gale.
Nicholas stood up slowly, walking around the corner of the desk. He was barefoot, wearing dark lounge pants, and towering over me in the shadows of the study. He stopped a few feet away, studying my face with an analytical intensity that made my skin tingle.
“You think I did it to protect you,” he said softly.
“Didn't you?”
A humorless, cynical smile touched his lips. “Roberto Ferraro doesn't care about women, Gabriella. He cares about leverage. He knows I acquired the waterfront parcels in Red Hook last month—parcels his family spent ten years trying to lock down. By calling you hot at my table, he was testing my boundaries. He wanted to see if I had a soft spot. If I showed indifference to you, he would have tried to buy you, or hurt you, just to see how I’d react.”
My stomach dropped. “So… I was just bait?”
“You were a pawn on a board he set up,” Nicholas corrected, his voice hardening. “And I moved you off it before he could capture you. That isn't chivalry. That’s strategy.”
“You’re a cold bastard, do you know that?” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could censor them.
Instead of getting angry, Nicholas let out a low, humorless chuckle.
“Cold bastards live to see sunrise, Miss Hart,” he said, taking a step closer. The air between us grew thick, charged with something entirely different from anger or business. “Warm-hearted fools end up buried in the New Jersey marshes.”
He stopped just inches away. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. My heart was pounding so hard I was certain he could hear it echoing in the quiet room.
“Go back to bed, Gabriella,” he murmured, his gaze dropping momentarily to my lips before snapping back up to meet my eyes. “And keep your doors locked. Tomorrow night, Roberto is hosting a gala at his club in SoHo. And you’re coming with me.”
May you like
I froze. “What?”
“You heard me,” Nicholas said, turning his back and walking back toward the window overlooking the black expanse of the Hudson. “Every king needs a queen on his arm when he walks into enemy territory. And tonight, you proved you have enough spine to play the part.”
