Chapter 1 - The Cost of Mercy
For the first time in two years, Lily Rossi was breathing evenly.
But upstairs in the kitchen, Victoria Kensington was suffocating in her own panic.
Leo carried his daughter up the cellar steps.
He held her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.
Beatrice followed slowly behind them.
Her knees throbbed with every step, the torn fabric of her uniform clinging to her bruised skin.
Mateo stood at the top of the stairs, blocking the kitchen exit.
His hand rested casually near the holster concealed beneath his tailored suit jacket.
Victoria was backed against the marble island, her perfect ivory slacks trembling.
Her mascara was running down her cheeks in thick, dark rivers.
"Leo, please," she begged, her voice high and desperate.
"You have to listen to me."
Leo didn't even look at her.
He gently laid Lily down on the plush velvet sofa in the adjoining sitting room.
He brushed a strand of dark hair from his daughter's pale forehead.
"Mateo," Leo said softly.
"Call Dr. Evans. Tell him to bring the trauma kit."
"Already done," Mateo replied, not taking his eyes off Victoria.
Leo finally stood up.
He turned around, his dark coat sweeping behind him like the wings of a predatory bird.
He walked back into the kitchen.
The silence in the room was heavier than the iron cellar door.
"Leo, it was a mistake," Victoria sobbed.
"She was out of control! I just wanted to put her in time-out!"
"In a freezing cellar," Leo said.
His voice was terrifyingly flat.
"Without her inhaler."
"I didn't know about the inhaler!" she shrieked.
"She's a liar!" Victoria pointed a trembling, manicured finger at Beatrice.
"That fat cow attacked me! Look at her! She's a monster!"
Leo's eyes shifted to Beatrice.
He took in her split lip.
He saw the swelling around her eye where Victoria's diamond ring had struck her.
He saw the bloody fingerprints on her white apron.
She hadn't attacked anyone.
She had thrown herself against a metal door to save his child, taking a beating without fighting back.
Leo walked toward Victoria.
He didn't rush.
He moved with the calculated grace of a man who owned the world and everything in it.
Victoria pressed her hands flat against the marble counter, nowhere left to run.
"My father is Don Kensington," she whispered, playing her last card.
"If you touch me, he will burn Chicago to the ground."
Leo stopped inches from her face.
He leaned in so close she could feel the frost in his breath.
"Let him light the match."
Leo turned his head slightly.
"Mateo."
"Boss."
"Take her to the warehouse."
Victoria's eyes rolled back, and she slumped to the floor in a dead faint.
May you like
Leo didn't even blink.
"Drag her," he commanded.
