Chapter 2 - Someone Was Waiting Outside
Claire woke to warmth.
Too much of it.
Her skin hurt.
Her fingers tingled painfully beneath heavy blankets, and something warm pressed around her shoulders.
For several seconds she didn't know where she was.
Then she smelled cedar smoke.
She opened her eyes.
Roman DeLuca was sitting beside the bed.
Not a hospital.
One of the guest suites.
A doctor stood near the fireplace packing equipment into a leather bag.
Mrs. Patel was asleep in a chair near the window.
Roman noticed Claire's eyes immediately.
“Don't move.”
She swallowed.
“What happened?”
“You nearly froze to death.”
Memory returned in fragments.
Vivian.
The storm.
The carriage house.
A silhouette walking through the snow.
Claire tried to sit up.
Roman stopped her gently.
“Easy.”
“There was someone outside.”
“I know.”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“You saw him?”
“No.”
Roman leaned forward.
“But I saw the tracks.”
The doctor approached.
“She needs rest. Her core temperature is stable now, and I don't see signs of permanent injury. But exposure like that is serious.”
Roman nodded.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
The man hesitated.
“This should have been a hospital call.”
“The roads were closed.”
“And now?”
“Security has cleared a route.”
Claire shook her head.
“No hospital.”
Roman looked at her.
“Claire.”
“No.”
The word came out more frightened than she'd intended.
She thought of Lily.
If Vivian could arrange what happened outside, she could arrange something worse.
Roman waited until the doctor left.
Then he closed the bedroom door.
“Tell me what you're afraid of.”
“I'm not afraid.”
Roman looked at her.
Claire almost laughed.
It was a terrible lie.
Everyone who worked at DeLuca House knew Roman rarely raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
Silence worked better for him.
“Vivian sent me outside,” Claire finally said.
“I know.”
“She said her father wanted wine.”
“Victor never requested it.”
Claire stared.
“And the Bellamy Reserve wasn't in the carriage house.”
“What?”
“It was moved three months ago.”
That frightened her more than anything.
So there had never been a legitimate reason for her to leave.
Roman saw the realization on her face.
“Start at the beginning.”
Claire looked toward Mrs. Patel.
Still sleeping.
Then back at him.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because this doesn't involve you.”
Roman's expression became almost incredulous.
“You were found unconscious on my property after my fiancée deliberately sent you into a blizzard. It involves me.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Claire closed her eyes.
She had spent years surviving by keeping problems compartmentalized.
Work.
Lily.
Debt.
Fear.
You survived people like the lenders by becoming invisible.
You paid.
You didn't complain.
You never involved anyone powerful enough to make the situation worse.
But there was something in Roman's face she hadn't seen before.
Not pity.
Anger.
Not at her.
For her.
“$184,000,” she whispered.
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“My father borrowed money.”
She told him about Lily's illness.
The surgery.
The neurological complications.
The rehabilitation.
Her father's desperation.
His death.
The payments.
The threats that began six months later when Claire discovered the lender wasn't interested in ever allowing the debt to disappear.
Roman listened without interrupting.
“What was the lender's name?”
“Granite Harbor Financial.”
Roman's eyes changed.
Claire noticed.
“You know them?”
“I know who controls them.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Roman stood.
“Victor Mercer.”
Silence filled the room.
Claire stopped breathing for a moment.
Vivian's father.
Roman's future father-in-law.
Roman walked toward the window.
Snow covered the grounds beyond the glass.
“When did Vivian mention your debt?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“The conservatory.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Claire hesitated.
“She said some debts could become dangerous if people forgot their place.”
Roman turned slowly.
“And you didn't tell me.”
“You're marrying her.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is from where I'm standing.”
Roman went still.
That sentence landed harder than Claire expected.
She looked down.
“I didn't know who you'd believe.”
Roman's voice softened.
“Fair.”
That surprised her.
Men like Roman weren't supposed to admit when something hurt.
He returned to the chair.
“What happened in the conservatory before Vivian approached you?”
Claire thought.
“I was replacing flowers.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Were Victor and Vivian there?”
Claire's memory shifted.
She had entered through the side doors.
Heard voices.
Vivian and her father.
They had been arguing.
Something about shipping routes.
Something about signatures.
“I heard them talking.”
Roman leaned closer.
“About what?”
“I don't know. Your name came up.”
“What did they say?”
Claire tried to remember.
“Victor said something about the wedding solving a problem.”
Roman's face hardened.
“What problem?”
“I couldn't hear everything.”
Then she remembered another sentence.
A strange one.
Vivian had said:
Once Roman signs, DeLuca won't be able to separate the companies without destroying himself.
Claire repeated it.
Roman said nothing.
The silence was suddenly frightening.
“Roman?”
“What else?”
“Victor said they couldn't risk you seeing the winter accounts.”
“What accounts?”
“I don't know.”
Roman stood again.
Claire watched him move toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask my head of security why footage from the south lawn disappeared tonight.”
Claire's heart stopped.
“Footage disappeared?”
Roman looked back.
“Every outdoor camera between this house and the carriage building went offline at 8:41.”
“What time did Vivian send me outside?”
“8:43.”
Claire stared at him.
This wasn't impulsive cruelty.
It had been planned.
Roman reached for the door.
“Stay here.”
“Roman.”
He stopped.
“What happens if Vivian realizes I told you?”
“She already knows I found you.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Roman considered her for a moment.
Then he crossed back to the bed.
“No one reaches you or Lily without going through me.”
Claire's eyes burned unexpectedly.
“You can't promise that.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Roman's expression went cold in a way she'd never seen directed toward anyone she cared about.
“Because there are very few things in this city people fear more than Victor Mercer.”
He paused.
“One of them is me.”
Then Roman left the room.
Downstairs, the Christmas party had ended early.
The guests were gone.
Only family and senior staff remained.
Vivian stood beneath the twenty-foot Christmas tree when Roman descended the staircase.
She still wore the red dress.
Still looked perfect.
Except she had stopped smiling.
“Is Claire awake?”
Roman walked toward her.
“Yes.”
Vivian exhaled dramatically.
“Thank God.”
Roman stopped several feet away.
“What bottle did your father ask for?”
She didn't hesitate.
“Bellamy Reserve.”
“Vintage?”
“1990.”
“Where was it stored?”
“The carriage house.”
Roman watched her.
She met his eyes.
A perfect lie.
“Interesting.”
Vivian's expression shifted.
“Why?”
Roman looked toward Victor Mercer, who had just entered from the library.
“Because there hasn't been a bottle of Bellamy Reserve in that carriage house since September.”
For the first time all night, Vivian had no immediate response.
Roman saw it.
So did her father.
And across the foyer, Mrs. Patel—who had quietly come downstairs—saw something else.
Victor Mercer looked at his daughter.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Angry.
As though she had made a mistake.
That was the moment Mrs. Patel understood that Claire's nightmare had not started in the snow.
May you like
And it wasn't over.
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