Chapter 2 - THE MAN AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE
Norah pushed the pantry door open with her good hand.
Gabriel Rossi stood beside the refrigerator, watching her.
His eyes dropped to the ice pack.
Then to her fingers.
They were nearly purple.
Whatever mild curiosity had been in his face disappeared.
“Take the tape off.”
Norah instinctively pulled her arm closer.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.”
“I can manage.”
Gabriel set the bottle of water on the counter.
“Your fingers are changing color.”
She looked down.
That was difficult to argue with.
“I don’t have insurance,” she said quietly.
For the first time, Gabriel seemed confused.
“What?”
“If I go to the emergency room, I can’t pay for it.”
Something moved behind his eyes.
Not pity.
Anger.
Norah had learned to recognize male anger early in life, and her body reacted before her mind could stop it. Her shoulders tightened. She took one step backward.
Gabriel noticed that too.
His expression changed immediately.
The anger remained, but it turned away from her.
“Sit down.”
“I should go home.”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted to his.
It was the first time she had deliberately looked straight at him.
“That wasn’t a request, was it?”
“No.”
“You always talk to employees like prisoners?”
“Only the ones hiding broken bones in my pantry.”
Despite herself, Norah almost laughed.
The movement pulled at her wrist.
She winced.
Gabriel crossed the kitchen and picked up the house phone.
“Wake Dr. Caruso.”
Norah’s stomach tightened.
“Mr. Rossi—”
“You can argue after he resets your wrist.”
“I don’t need—”
Gabriel turned.
“Who did it?”
The question struck harder than she expected.
Norah went silent.
Gabriel did not repeat himself.
He simply waited.
That somehow made lying more difficult.
“I fell.”
“No.”
“I slipped behind my building.”
“No.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You don’t know me well enough to call me a liar.”
“I know injuries.”
His voice had become very quiet.
“A fall doesn’t leave fingerprints around the forearm.”
Norah looked at the floor.
Gabriel's gaze sharpened.
“Who?”
She hated what happened next.
Her eyes filled.
Not because of the pain.
Because someone had finally asked the question she had spent months praying no one would ask.
“Raymond Miller.”
Gabriel repeated the name once.
“Raymond Miller.”
“My ex.”
That answer changed something.
“How long?”
“We broke up eight months ago.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Norah said nothing.
Gabriel studied her face.
“How long has he been hurting you?”
She stared at the pantry floor.
“Long enough.”
Dr. Anthony Caruso arrived forty minutes later carrying a battered black medical bag and wearing a winter coat over pajamas.
He took one look at Norah’s wrist.
“Jesus.”
Gabriel stood near the kitchen window while the doctor carefully cut away the athletic tape.
The swelling underneath was ugly.
Dark bruises circled Norah’s forearm where Ray’s fingers had dug into her skin.
Dr. Caruso examined her hand.
“You’re lucky you didn’t lose circulation.”
Norah gave a humorless smile.
“I’ve had better mornings.”
“You’ve got a displaced fracture. Maybe two. I need imaging.”
She stiffened.
Caruso looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded once.
“We use St. Catherine’s private imaging suite.”
Norah immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
She held his stare.
“I am not taking charity from you.”
The doctor wisely pretended to become interested in his medical bag.
Gabriel folded his arms.
“It isn’t charity.”
“What is it?”
“Workers’ compensation.”
“I broke it before work.”
“Then consider it an employee retention expense.”
“That’s not how employee retention works.”
“It is in this house.”
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Caruso coughed.
“Would both of you like to continue this charming argument while her radius heals crooked?”
Norah went.
By 3:20 a.m., her wrist was properly set and enclosed in a fiberglass cast.
By 4:10, she was back at the estate with instructions not to lift anything for six weeks.
Gabriel had disappeared.
That should have relieved her.
Instead, she felt uneasy.
Mrs. Gable found Norah sitting at the kitchen table.
The older woman stopped when she saw the cast.
“Oh, child.”
It was the first gentle thing Norah had ever heard her say.
Mrs. Gable crossed the room and touched Norah’s shoulder.
“You should have told me.”
“I needed the hours.”
“You think I would fire a woman for getting hurt?”
“I didn’t know what you would do.”
Mrs. Gable’s face tightened.
For one strange moment, pain appeared there.
“You look so much like her when you say things like that.”
Norah frowned.
“Like who?”
Mrs. Gable seemed to realize what she had said.
“No one.”
“Mrs. Gable.”
The older woman turned toward the coffee machine.
“Go rest.”
Norah stared after her.
Before she could ask another question, heavy footsteps entered the kitchen.
Vincent Marchetti appeared.
He was Gabriel’s closest lieutenant, a broad-shouldered man in his forties who rarely spoke to household staff.
“Miss Hayes.”
Norah straightened.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Rossi wants everyone in the dining room at six.”
“Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
Mrs. Gable turned.
“At six in the morning?”
Vincent nodded.
“And he means everyone.”
Something in his voice made Mrs. Gable pale.
At 5:58 a.m., cooks, maids, drivers, security men, gardeners, and household managers stood along the walls of the dining room.
Nobody understood why.
Gabriel sat at the head of the table.
A cup of black coffee rested beside him.
The silver tray Norah had dropped the previous morning had been placed in the exact center of the table.
Then Vincent entered through the double doors.
Raymond Miller walked in beside him.
Norah stopped breathing.
Ray looked terrible.
Not beaten.
That almost made it worse.
He looked sober.
Terrified.
And completely aware of where he was.
Two guards escorted him to the chair opposite Gabriel.
Ray saw Norah.
His face collapsed.
“Nori.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Gabriel looked at Norah.
Then at Ray.
“Mr. Miller.”
Ray swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m told you enjoy gambling.”
Ray’s fingers twitched.
“I’ve had some bad luck.”
“You owe thirty-eight thousand dollars.”
Norah stared at him.
Ray looked down.
Gabriel continued.
“Some of that money is owed to men who operate with my permission.”
Ray went gray.
Gabriel leaned back.
“You broke Miss Hayes’s wrist because you wanted money.”
“I didn’t mean to break it.”
Norah felt something inside her snap harder than the bone had.
“You twisted until it broke.”
Ray looked at her.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
Silence.
Gabriel looked at the cast.
Then at Ray.
“I could make you disappear.”
The room became still.
Ray’s breathing turned shallow.
“But then Miss Hayes would spend the rest of her life wondering whether she caused your death.”
Gabriel’s eyes moved toward Norah.
“And she has already carried enough things that belong to other people.”
Norah did not know why that sentence hit her so hard.
Gabriel turned back to Ray.
“So you’re going to live.”
Relief flashed across Ray’s face.
Gabriel continued.
“You’re going to repay what you owe. You’re going into the recovery program at St. Matthew’s. You’re staying away from her home, her workplace, and every person she knows.”
Ray nodded rapidly.
“Yes.”
“And if she decides to press charges, you will not threaten her, buy her off, or disappear before court.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel’s voice hardened.
“Now tell her why you were waiting behind her building.”
Ray froze.
Norah frowned.
“I told you. He wanted money.”
Gabriel never looked away from Ray.
“No.”
Ray’s eyes flicked toward the door.
Vincent stepped in front of it.
Gabriel placed something on the table.
A folded photograph.
Norah recognized herself in it.
Walking out of the Rossi gates three days earlier.
She looked up sharply.
Gabriel said, “This was in his pocket.”
Norah turned toward Ray.
“Who took that?”
Ray's lips trembled.
Gabriel waited.
Finally Ray whispered, “I wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
Norah’s skin went cold.
“What were you supposed to do?”
Ray looked directly at her.
“Get your mother’s blue coat.”
Norah stared at him.
Her mother had been dead for seven years.
Nobody knew about that coat.
Nobody.
Ray swallowed.
“A man paid me five thousand dollars.”
Gabriel’s face became completely unreadable.
Ray continued.
“He said the coat had something that belonged to the Rossi family.”
Norah looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel was no longer watching Ray.
He was staring at her.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Norah’s pulse began hammering.
“Evelyn.”
Mrs. Gable made a small sound behind her.
Gabriel slowly stood.
“Evelyn Hayes?”
Norah nodded.
For the first time since she had known him, Gabriel Rossi looked shaken.
He reached for the photograph.
His fingers were not quite steady.
“My God.”
Norah stepped toward him.
“You knew my mother?”
Gabriel raised his eyes.
“Knew her?”
His voice had gone rough.
May you like
“Your mother raised me.”
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