Chapter 3 - The Cost of SafetyThe guest suite in the east wing was larger than my entire apartment.
It featured a king-sized bed covered in plush white duvets, a private marble bathroom with a clawfoot soaking tub, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a snow-covered sculpture garden that looked straight out of a gothic romance novel.
I paced the length of the Persian rug for two hours, my mind racing in circles. I had tried the door; it was unlocked. I had looked out the window; the drop was three stories into a frozen courtyard patrolled by two armed guards in heavy black coats.
Escape was impossible. Compliance was humiliating.
By three in the morning, exhaustion finally won. I collapsed across the edge of the oversized bed still wearing my ruined cocktail waitress dress, pulling a cashmere throw blanket over my shoulders, and fell into a restless, nightmare-filled sleep.
When I woke up, sunlight was streaming brilliantly through the frosted windows, casting geometric patterns across the hardwood floor.
A soft knock rattled the heavy wooden door.
“Come in!” I rasped, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
The door pushed open, and an older woman with silver hair tied neatly in a bun stepped inside, carrying a rolling cart laden with a silver coffee pot, fresh pastries, and a freshly pressed gray pantsuit and silk blouse.
“Good morning, Ms. Vance,” the woman said with a warm, maternal smile. “I’m Mrs. Gable. Mr. Conti asked me to make sure you were settled.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, eyeing the clothes on the cart with deep suspicion. “Did Matteo pick those out?”
Mrs. Gable chuckled softly. “Mr. Conti instructed me to have a wardrobe delivered that was suitable for an executive assistant. He mentioned your previous attire was... ill-suited for corporate offices.”
“Ill-suited? It was standard uniform!” I muttered, standing up and stretching my aching muscles. “Look, Mrs. Gable, I appreciate the coffee, but I need to get back to my apartment. My mother—is my mother okay? Has anyone checked on her?”
Mrs. Gable’s expression softened into deep, genuine empathy. “Mr. Conti sent a security detail to check on Mrs. Vance early this morning, dear. She was asleep, but the nurse reported everything is stable. Furthermore, Mr. Conti’s private account settled the balance on her care facility for the next six months.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. My blood ran cold.
“He what?” I whispered.
“He took care of it,” Mrs. Gable repeated gently. “He didn't want you worrying while you adjust to your new position.”
Anger—hot, blinding, and absolute—surged through my veins. He had bought me. Just like that. With a flick of his wrist and a transfer from a bank account stained with blood, he had tied my mother’s healthcare directly to my captivity.
May you like
“I am going to kill him,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Mr. Conti is currently in his study on the third floor,” Mrs. Gable said smoothly, ignoring my threat as she poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me. “He expects you for a briefing at nine sharp. I suggest wearing the gray suit—it makes quite an impression.”
Related Stories
