Chapter 3 - The Dawn Interrogation
Harper spent the remainder of the night sitting on the edge of her narrow cot in the staff quarters, her small bag packed beside her feet. Every shadow outside her window looked like an assassin sent to dispose of her body.
She had committed the ultimate transgression: she had mocked the authority of Lorenzo Romano in front of his underboss. In her mind, her life was effectively over.
At six o'clock precisely, as the first rays of gray light broke over the Atlantic, a sharp knock sounded at her door.
Harper opened it to find Mrs. Gable standing in the corridor. The housekeeper looked remarkably pale from her bout with influenza, but her eyes held a strange, unreadable expression.
"Mr. Romano wants you in the main dining room immediately," Mrs. Gable said coldly. Her eyes drifted down to Harper's packed suitcase. "I suggest you leave that here. If Mr. Romano wanted you dead, you wouldn't have survived the night."
Harper swallowed hard, her throat bone-dry. She adjusted her apron with trembling fingers and followed the older woman down the grand marble staircases into the east wing.
The main dining room was vast, dominated by a twenty-foot polished mahogany table. Lorenzo sat alone at the head, clad in a crisp black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing intricate dark tattoos running along his powerful forearms. A silver coffee pot, a porcelain cup, and a stack of financial folders sat before him.
He didn't look up when Harper entered.
"Pour the coffee," he commanded flatly.
Harper stepped forward, her bandaged hand shaking as she lifted the heavy silver carafe. She carefully filled his porcelain cup, praying her hands wouldn't betray her again.
"So," Lorenzo spoke, setting his pen down. He leaned back, his piercing dark eyes locking onto hers. "Harper Hayes. According to the preliminary background check my team conducted overnight, your paper trail begins exactly two years ago."
Harper’s heart dropped into her stomach. She froze, holding the carafe mid-air.
"You have no credit history prior to twenty-two, no college records, and your social security number was issued strangely late in life," Lorenzo continued, his tone like a scalpel dissecting a specimen. "You are running from something. Or someone."
"I am just a maid, sir," she whispered, taking a cautious step backward.
"You are a liability who spilled liquor on my suit and called me her husband while I was handling internal business," Lorenzo corrected coldly. "Felix spent two hours last night attempting to convince me that you are an informant sent by the Boston crime families."
"I am not!" Harper cried out, her composure breaking. "I swear to you, I don't know anything about crime families! I came here because I needed a job!"
Lorenzo studied her intense, terrified expression. He reached into his leather folder and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the polished table.
Harper looked down. It was a surveillance picture of her older brother, Liam, bruised and beaten, standing outside a dingy betting shop in South Boston.
"Liam Hayes," Lorenzo said softly. "A low-level gambler who owes four hundred thousand dollars to the O'Connor family in Boston. They have been looking for you to use as leverage."
Harper sank into a nearby chair, her strength completely vanishing. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as silent sob escaped her chest.
"They found my phone number yesterday," she sobbed into her hands. "That's why I said those words... on the phone, I lied to the debt collector. I told him I was married so he would leave me alone. I was repeating it in my head all night... and when I saw the gun on your desk, I just... I panicked."
Lorenzo watched her cry. The usual cold indifference that governed his interactions with people seemed to warp. He didn't see a spy or a threat; he saw a desperate, broken girl carrying a burden far too heavy for her shoulders.
"The O'Connor family operates in my city without my permission," Lorenzo said quietly, his voice hardening like steel. "And no one threatens people who reside under my roof."
Harper looked up through her tear-stained lashes. "Sir?"
May you like
Lorenzo stood up, his tall figure commanding the entire room.
"You want a husband to protect you from Boston loan sharks, Harper?" Lorenzo asked, a dark, dangerous smile appearing on his face. "Starting today, you will have one."
