Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Green Dress
I woke to warmth.
At first, that was all I understood.
Warmth and pain.
My lungs burned when I breathed. My fingers felt as if hundreds of tiny needles had been pushed beneath my skin.
Somebody was speaking near me.
“Temperature?”
“Ninety-four point eight.”
“Keep warming slowly.”
A man's voice interrupted.
“Is she going to be okay?”
Roman.
I knew his voice immediately.
There were people who raised their voices to command a room.
Roman rarely needed to.
Even worried, even exhausted, he had the kind of voice people stopped talking to hear.
A doctor answered him.
“She was extremely lucky.”
Lucky.
The word almost made me laugh.
I forced my eyes open.
The ceiling above me wasn't a hospital ceiling.
It was carved wood.
I recognized it.
One of the upstairs guest suites.
Roman had apparently decided that waiting for an ambulance during the worst blizzard in ten years was too slow, so he'd brought the emergency physician who attended the party upstairs.
“Claire?”
Roman appeared beside the bed.
Snow still melted in his hair.
His shirt collar was open.
His expression looked completely wrong on him.
Fear.
Actual fear.
I blinked.
“What…”
“Don't try to sit up.”
“What happened?”
“You collapsed outside.”
My memories returned in pieces.
Vivian.
The carriage house.
The man.
I grabbed Roman's wrist.
“There was someone outside.”
Every person in the room stopped moving.
Roman leaned closer.
“What?”
“A man.”
“Where?”
“Carriage house.”
Marco stepped forward from the wall.
“What did he look like?”
“Dark coat. Hat.” I swallowed. “He knew my name.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“He reached into his coat.”
“For a weapon?”
“I don't know.”
Roman looked at Marco.
Marco immediately left.
I closed my eyes.
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“The guests?”
“Gone.”
I opened my eyes again.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“You canceled Christmas?”
Roman stared at me.
“You almost died.”
The room became very quiet.
I didn't know what to say to that.
Neither did he.
The doctor checked my pulse before stepping away.
“You need rest.”
Roman nodded.
“I'll stay.”
“That's unnecessary,” I whispered.
His eyes returned to mine.
“That's not your decision tonight.”
Under normal circumstances, I might have argued.
But my body felt like it had been dropped from a building.
I turned my head.
Through the open doorway, I saw Vivian standing in the hall.
She had changed.
The red dress was gone.
Now she wore a dark green silk robe over evening clothes.
But the diamonds remained.
Her eyes met mine.
And there it was.
Not concern.
Not relief.
Shock.
Because I was awake.
Roman noticed where I was looking.
He stood.
“Leave.”
Vivian stepped into the room.
“This is my home too.”
“No.”
Her face stiffened.
“We're engaged.”
“Not relevant.”
“Roman.”
He moved toward the doorway.
I had never seen him look at anyone that way.
“Did you know someone was waiting at the carriage house?”
Vivian laughed.
The sound was too quick.
Too sharp.
“That's absurd.”
“Claire says a man knew her name.”
Vivian looked at me.
“She's hypothermic.”
I couldn't believe it.
Roman apparently couldn't either.
“You think she's imagining it?”
“I think she's confused.”
“I'm not confused.”
My voice came out weak.
But steady.
Vivian turned to me.
“You were nearly unconscious.”
“I wasn't unconscious when he spoke to me.”
“Then perhaps it was security.”
Marco reappeared.
“It wasn't.”
Vivian's face changed for half a second.
Marco continued.
“We found tracks leading from the carriage house to the service road. Tire impressions too.”
Roman looked at Vivian.
“Still confused?”
Howard Mercer entered the hall.
He was Vivian's father.
Sixty-two.
Silver hair.
Expensive tuxedo.
The polished charm of a man who had spent his life convincing people that money and morality were the same thing.
“Enough,” he said.
Roman didn't turn.
Howard continued.
“My daughter made a foolish request. That's all.”
“A foolish request that put one of my employees outside exactly where a stranger was waiting?”
“You're reaching.”
Roman slowly faced him.
“What wine did you ask for?”
Howard paused.
“The Bellamy.”
“What year?”
“The 1990.”
Roman smiled.
It wasn't pleasant.
“We served the 1990 Bellamy at dinner.”
Howard blinked.
Roman continued.
“Three bottles.”
Nobody spoke.
“I personally approved the wine list.”
Vivian's lips parted.
Howard recovered first.
“I must have been mistaken.”
“You were.”
Roman stepped closer.
“And now I want to know why your daughter lied about you asking for it.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“I didn't lie.”
“You said your father requested a bottle.”
“He did.”
Howard glanced at her.
Tiny movement.
But I saw it.
So did Roman.
“Interesting,” Roman said.
Vivian looked furious.
Howard looked worried.
That was worse.
Roman turned to Marco.
“Lock the estate.”
Vivian's eyes widened.
“What?”
“No one enters or leaves until the roads open.”
“You can't imprison people here.”
“The only people still here are family, staff and security.”
“And us.”
Roman looked at her.
“Exactly.”
He returned to my bedside.
“Claire, think carefully. Had you seen the man before?”
I tried.
His face had been mostly hidden.
But something about him bothered me.
Not his face.
His voice.
No.
His hand.
When he reached into his coat, his sleeve pulled back.
There had been something around his wrist.
A tattoo?
A watch?
Then I remembered.
A bracelet.
Black beads with a small silver cross.
My breathing changed.
Roman noticed immediately.
“What?”
“I've seen that bracelet before.”
“Where?”
I stared toward the doorway.
Howard Mercer had gone completely still.
And suddenly, I remembered exactly where I had seen it.
Three weeks earlier.
During Roman and Vivian's engagement dinner.
A man had stood behind Howard Mercer all evening.
He hadn't been introduced as a guest.
He looked more like security.
Black suit.
Quiet.
Watching everything.
And around his wrist—
Black beads.
Silver cross.
I whispered, “He works for Vivian's father.”
Howard Mercer smiled.
But his eyes didn't.
“You're mistaken.”
Roman turned toward him.
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Claire,” Howard said gently, “you've had a traumatic evening.”
“That was him.”
Roman stood.
“What's his name?”
Howard said nothing.
Roman repeated the question.
“What is his name?”
Vivian answered first.
“Daniel Voss.”
Her father snapped his head toward her.
Too late.
Roman's expression hardened.
Marco was already reaching for his phone.
But when he called his security team at the main gate, they delivered news none of us expected.
A vehicle had been discovered abandoned less than two miles from the estate.
The driver was gone.
Inside the vehicle were a pair of gloves, bolt cutters—
and a photograph of me.
Taken three days earlier.
Outside my sister's apartment.
May you like
Someone hadn't started watching me that night. Someone had been following me long before the snow began to fall.
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