By Fay’s second week at the Corso estate, the staff had stopped betting on when she would leave.

They started betting on something more dangerous.

When Dominic would smile because of her.

Mrs. Gable considered the entire practice juvenile.

That did not prevent her from keeping the money.

Fay discovered the pool when she entered the kitchen and Cook hastily covered a notebook.

“What is that?”

“Inventory.”

“Inventory with my name written at the top?”

Cook closed it.

“Very specialized inventory.”

Fay glanced toward Carmine.

He looked innocent.

She pointed at him.

“You're all terrible people.”

“Occupational requirement.”

Despite herself, she laughed.

Two weeks earlier, laughter had sounded foreign inside the Corso house.

Now it appeared in small pockets.

The biggest change was Dominic.

He still had terrible mornings.

Some days pain made his temper vicious.

Other days he refused physical therapy after ten minutes and shut himself inside the bedroom.

But he no longer smashed dishes.

He ate downstairs three or four times a week.

He opened curtains himself.

And when Fay entered his room, he stopped looking at the door as though calculating how quickly he could force her through it.

She learned his routines.

Coffee black.

No sugar.

He hated television news.

Loved old jazz records.

Pretended not to care about the garden.

Read history at night when pain kept him awake.

Dominic learned hers.

She skipped lunch when worried.

Twisted the silver ring on her finger when lying.

Called everyone “sir” when angry enough to commit murder.

And absolutely refused to accept gifts.

One Thursday afternoon, Fay dusted his study while Dominic reviewed documents.

“You missed a shelf.”

“No, I didn't.”

He pointed.

“Top left.”

Fay looked.

It was clean.

“You're bored.”

“I’m observant.”

“You're annoying.”

“That too.”

She climbed the small library ladder.

Dominic returned to his papers.

Fay reached toward several old books.

Her fingers caught something metal behind them.

A soft click sounded.

Part of the shelf shifted.

Fay froze.

“Dominic?”

His head snapped up.

“What did you touch?”

“Nothing intentionally.”

He rolled across the room faster than she had seen him move.

“Step away.”

The seriousness in his voice erased her amusement.

Fay climbed down.

A narrow compartment had opened behind the books.

Inside sat a black metal box.

Dominic stared at it.

“Leave.”

Fay blinked.

“What?”

“Go downstairs.”

“You don't have to—”

“Now.”

The old Dominic had returned.

Cold.

Commanding.

Unreachable.

Fay's pride flared.

But she also recognized fear.

Not fear of her.

Fear of what she had found.

She walked toward the door.

Before leaving, she turned.

“If you wanted it hidden, putting it behind War and Peace wasn't subtle.”

He didn't smile.

Fay closed the door.

An hour later, Carmine entered the kitchen.

His expression told her something was wrong.

“What happened upstairs?”

“I touched a shelf.”

“That shelf?”

“Apparently.”

Carmine rubbed his jaw.

“Stay away from the study today.”

“Gladly.”

“Fay.”

She looked up.

His tone softened.

“I mean it.”

Something in his face prevented her from making a joke.

That evening Dominic didn't request dinner.

At seven, Fay prepared to leave.

At seven ten, Mrs. Gable found her near the staff entrance.

“Could you take this upstairs?”

She held a coffee tray.

“Dominic told me to stay away.”

“He also hasn't eaten since breakfast.”

“You take it.”

Mrs. Gable stared.

Fay sighed.

“Fine.”

The study door was open.

Dominic sat behind his desk.

The black box rested before him.

Papers covered the desktop.

Fay placed the coffee nearby.

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait.”

She stopped.

Dominic remained silent long enough that she wondered whether he had changed his mind.

Finally he picked up a photograph.

He held it toward her.

A black luxury sedan.

The front crushed.

Windows shattered.

Fay immediately understood.

“The accident.”

Dominic nodded.

“I was told a tire failed.”

“Was that not true?”

“I stopped believing it three months ago.”

Fay glanced at the box.

“What was inside?”

“Things I collected before the accident.”

“About who?”

His eyes lifted.

“My own people.”

She should have felt frightened.

Instead she pulled out a chair.

“Explain.”

Dominic almost laughed.

“You found evidence related to an attempt on my life and your response is 'explain'?”

“I already know you're not selling Girl Scout cookies.”

He stared.

Then slid one document across the desk.

Fay didn't understand most of it.

Company names.

Payments.

Dates.

Shipping records.

One name appeared repeatedly.

Matteo Corso.

“Your brother?”

“Cousin.”

“Close?”

“We grew up together.”

The answer carried more pain than anger.

Dominic looked toward the photograph.

“Matteo managed several companies while I handled… other parts of the organization.”

“You mean criminal parts.”

His eyebrow rose.

“I thought you didn't ask questions.”

“I didn't say I couldn't understand English.”

Despite the tension, his mouth curved.

Then he became serious.

“The week before my accident, I found money disappearing. Not thousands. Millions. Someone was using my companies to cover debts and move shipments I hadn't approved.”

“Matteo?”

“I didn't know.”

“And the accident happened before you could find out?”

“Yes.”

Fay looked again at the documents.

“Why not give this to police?”

Dominic gave her a look.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

His world did not call police.

That reality settled heavily between them.

“Why show me?”

Dominic didn't answer immediately.

“I don't know.”

The honesty surprised her.

“You don't trust me.”

“I trust you more than I should.”

Fay felt her heartbeat change.

She looked down.

“That's not smart.”

“No.”

“Especially considering we've known each other two weeks.”

“No.”

“You investigated me, didn't you?”

Dominic's silence answered.

Her head snapped up.

“You did.”

“Carmine did.”

“Because you told him.”

“Yes.”

She stood.

“Unbelievable.”

“Fay.”

“You went through my life?”

“I needed to know who was inside my house.”

“You could have asked.”

“People lie.”

“So you decided spying was better?”

“I decided staying alive was better.”

“That doesn't make it acceptable.”

Dominic wheeled around the desk.

“Your father died four years ago. Your mother left when you were twelve. You've worked eleven jobs in eight years. You owe twenty-three hundred dollars in rent and—”

“Stop.”

His voice ended.

Fay's eyes were wet.

“Don't ever turn my worst years into a file on your desk.”

Dominic looked as if she had struck him.

“That wasn't my intention.”

“I don't care.”

She moved toward the door.

“Fay.”

“No.”

He followed.

She turned sharply.

“You asked why I wasn't afraid of you. Maybe I should've been.”

Dominic stopped.

The anger left his face.

Only regret remained.

“I’m sorry.”

Fay stared.

Dominic Corso apologizing looked almost unnatural.

But he meant it.

“I should have told you.”

“Yes.”

“I should have asked.”

“Yes.”

“I don't know how to trust people that way.”

“That isn't my problem.”

“No.”

A pause.

“Could it become your problem?”

The question was dangerously quiet.

Fay looked at him.

“Why?”

Dominic's gaze remained steady.

“Because I don't want you to leave.”

All the air seemed to leave the study.

Fay's anger remained.

But beneath it something warmer moved.

Something she had been refusing to name.

She looked toward the metal box.

“Do you think Matteo caused the crash?”

“I think somebody did.”

“Then stop trying to handle it alone.”

His eyes narrowed.

“That sounds dangerously like concern.”

“Don't get excited.”

“Too late.”

Fay shook her head.

“I’m still angry.”

“I noticed.”

“And you will never investigate me again.”

“No.”

She hesitated.

“That sounded too easy.”

“I already know everything.”

“Dominic.”

He actually laughed.

Fay fought a smile.

Then a knock sounded.

Carmine entered.

His face was grim.

The humor vanished immediately.

“We've got a problem.”

Dominic turned.

“What?”

“One of the security guys checked the garage footage from the night before your crash.”

Dominic’s hands tightened.

“And?”

“Somebody accessed your car after midnight.”

Fay felt cold.

“Who?”

Carmine looked toward Dominic.

“The video was erased.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because the backup server wasn't.”

Carmine placed a tablet on the desk.

A grainy image appeared.

A man in a dark coat entered the private garage.

The face wasn't clear.

But the watch on his wrist reflected light.

Dominic leaned closer.

His expression changed.

He knew that watch.

Fay saw it immediately.

“Who is it?”

Dominic stared at the screen.

When he finally answered, the words were almost a whisper.

“Matteo.”

The door behind them clicked softly.

All three turned.

Nothing.

Empty hallway.

Carmine rushed out.

Fay's heart began pounding.

Dominic looked toward her.

“Starting tonight, you don't drive home alone.”

“No.”

“This isn't negotiable.”

“Dominic—”

“Somebody tried to kill me.”

His voice wasn't angry now.

It was terrified.

Not for himself.

For her.

“And if Matteo realizes you're important to me…”

He stopped.

Fay's breath caught.

Neither of them moved.

Finally she whispered, “Am I?”

Dominic's eyes met hers.

Important.

The word hung between them.

He didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

---