Chapter 1 - The Barefoot Woman at the Ball
I GRABBED THE MAFIA BOSS’S HAND IN THE MIDDLE OF A LUXURY BALLROOM AND WHISPERED, “PLEASE DANCE WITH ME”—BECAUSE THE MAN WHO HAD LOCKED ME IN A HOTEL ROOM WAS STANDING AT THE ONLY EXIT.
The first time I danced with Gabriel Romano, I was barefoot.
My dress was torn.
And three armed men were watching me as though I'd just made the worst mistake of my life.
But I couldn't let go of his hand.
Because six feet behind me stood the man I'd spent four years trying to escape.
“Please,” I whispered. “Just until he leaves.”
Gabriel looked down at me.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark tattoos climbed his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.
His hand was warm.
Mine was shaking.
“Who?” he asked quietly.
I couldn't turn around.
“The man beside the doors.”
Gabriel glanced over my shoulder.
Then he looked at my bare feet.
“Did he hurt you?”
I swallowed.
“He won't, if he thinks I'm with you.”
Something shifted in his expression.
He placed his other hand gently at my waist.
“Then dance.”
***
I had never met Gabriel Romano.
But everyone in Chicago knew his name.
He owned hotels, restaurants, shipping companies, and enough of the city that people lowered their voices when they mentioned him.
And according to every rumor I'd heard, he was also the most powerful Mafia Boss in Illinois.
I was thirty-one.
A hotel housekeeper.
A woman with forty-eight dollars in her purse and nowhere safe to sleep.
Six hours earlier, I'd been cleaning the penthouse suite when I discovered something I wasn't supposed to see.
A small black suitcase beneath the bed.
Inside were twelve passports.
All belonging to different women.
But every photograph had the same face.
Mine.
I hadn't even touched the second passport when the door opened.
“Claire?”
My employer, Nathan Caldwell, stood in the doorway.
He was fifty-two, wealthy, respected, and chairman of the hotel's charitable foundation.
He'd hired me three years earlier when I desperately needed work.
He'd paid my mother's medical bills.
Helped me find an apartment.
Called me family.
Now he was staring at the suitcase.
“Where did you find that?”
I stepped backward.
“Mr. Caldwell, why are there passports with my picture?”
He closed the door.
And locked it.
“Because, sweetheart,” he said softly, “you've been asking too many questions.”
***
The music changed.
Gabriel guided me through the ballroom with slow, careful steps.
I barely knew how to follow.
“Look at me,” he said.
I raised my eyes.
“Breathe.”
I tried.
“You're not very good at dancing,” he murmured.
Despite everything, a nervous laugh escaped me.
“I'm usually cleaning the floors.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
“Then we have something in common.”
“You clean floors?”
“No. I'm terrible at dancing.”
I almost smiled.
Then I saw Nathan moving toward us.
My stomach dropped.
“He's coming.”
Gabriel stopped dancing.
“Do you want to leave with him?”
“No.”
“Then you won't.”
Nathan approached wearing the pleasant smile everyone at the hotel knew.
“Claire, there you are.”
He looked at Gabriel.
“Mr. Romano. I apologize for the interruption.”
Gabriel said nothing.
Nathan gave an embarrassed chuckle.
“She's one of my employees. Unfortunately, she's been going through a difficult time.”
I felt my throat close.
“She became upset earlier,” Nathan continued, “and I'm afraid she isn't thinking clearly.”
Gabriel glanced at me.
Then at Nathan.
“What's her last name?”
Nathan blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Your employee. What's her last name?”
A pause.
“Mitchell.”
“Claire Mitchell,” Gabriel repeated.
Nathan nodded.
Gabriel looked down at me.
“Is that your name?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want this man near you?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Gabriel's expression hardened.
“Then step away from her.”
Nathan's smile disappeared.
“Mr. Romano, you don't understand. This woman has stolen something extremely valuable from me.”
My heart hammered.
“I didn't steal anything!”
Nathan reached for my arm.
“Claire, stop making this worse.”
I flinched.
Gabriel moved instantly.
He stepped between us, pulling me gently behind his shoulder.
His voice dropped.
“Touch her again.”
Nathan froze.
Around us, the music continued, but the people nearest us had stopped dancing.
Nathan straightened his jacket.
“You're making a serious mistake.”
Gabriel looked almost amused.
“People keep telling me that.”
Then he turned toward his security chief.
“Enzo. Take Mr. Caldwell to the lobby.”
Nathan's face drained.
“You have no idea what she's involved in.”
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
“Then perhaps you should've explained it before frightening her.”
***
Ten minutes later, I was sitting inside Gabriel's private dining room.
Someone had brought me shoes, a warm meal, and a glass of water.
I stared at the plate.
“I'm not hungry.”
Gabriel sat across from me.
“When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday.”
His expression changed.
“Claire.”
Something in his voice broke through the last of my composure.
I started crying.
Not loudly.
Just helplessly, with my hands covering my face.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't apologize.”
“I don't understand what's happening.”
He waited.
Then I told him about the passports.
The locked room.
The way Nathan had taken my phone and told me nobody would believe a housekeeper over him.
Gabriel listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he leaned forward.
“Twelve passports?”
I nodded.
“All with your photograph?”
“Yes.”
“Different names?”
“Yes.”
He went very still.
Then he asked something strange.
“Claire, did Caldwell ever ask you to sign documents you didn't understand?”
I stared at him.
My mouth went dry.
“Every Friday.”
Gabriel's fingers tightened around his glass.
“What kind of documents?”
“He said they were payroll forms.”
His expression darkened.
“Did you ever travel for him?”
“Twice. Once to New York. Once to Miami.”
“Did you go alone?”
“No. He always sent someone with me.”
For the first time, Gabriel Romano looked genuinely disturbed.
He stood so suddenly his chair scraped across the floor.
“Enzo!”
His security chief appeared.
“Boss?”
“Bring me Caldwell's employment records. Every document connected to Claire Mitchell.”
Enzo nodded.
Then hesitated.
“Boss, there's a problem.”
Gabriel turned.
“What problem?”
Enzo held up his phone.
“Caldwell just contacted our office. He's demanding we return a woman named Claire Mitchell.”
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
“Tell him to get a lawyer.”
Enzo swallowed.
“That's not the problem.”
He turned the screen toward Gabriel.
“According to the records he sent, Claire Mitchell isn't his employee.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Enzo looked at me.
“She's listed as the legal owner of six companies. Three have accounts overseas.”
I shook my head.
“No. That's impossible.”
Gabriel studied the screen.
Then he looked at me.
“Claire...”
His voice had changed completely.
“What?”
He hesitated.
And then came the words that made my blood turn cold.
“One of those companies transferred forty million dollars into my brother's account yesterday.”
My heart stopped.
Gabriel stepped closer.
His eyes were no longer merely concerned.
They were frightened.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
I could barely breathe.
“Did Nathan Caldwell ever tell you why he chose you for that job?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment.
Then whispered:
“Because your face was supposed to be the last thing my brother saw before he disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
Before he could answer, Enzo's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
And went pale.
“Boss... it's your brother.”
Gabriel grabbed the phone.
“Where the hell are you?”
A man's voice answered.
Calm.
Almost cheerful.
“Hello, Gabriel.”
Then he said my name.
Not Claire Mitchell.
The name my mother used to call me when I was little.
A name I hadn't heard anyone speak in twenty years.
Gabriel slowly turned toward me.
And I realized something terrifying.
The man on that phone knew exactly who I was.
But I had absolutely no idea who he was.
Then he laughed.
May you like
“Gabriel, before you decide to protect her, there's something you should know about the woman you're feeding dinner.”
And what he said next made Gabriel take three steps away from me...
