Chapter 2 - The Master Bedroom and the Debt of Blood
Sarah tried to move her fingers.
The simple effort sent electric fire shooting along her collarbone down through her lower spine.
She gasped, the sound thin and fragile.
Gabriel rose instantly.
He did not ring for the nurse.
He reached out, his massive, calloused hand hovering just an inch over her shoulder before he caught himself and rested his palm flat on the mattress beside her hip.
“Don't move,” he commanded softly.
His slate eyes scanned her monitor.
“Two broken ribs. One bullet nicked your lung. Another chipped your scapula. The third missed your spinal cord by four millimeters.”
Sarah swallowed against a desert-dry throat.
“Leo?”
The word was barely air.
Gabriel’s jaw twitched.
A muscle along his cheek corded and jumped.
“He hasn’t slept in his own bed since Tuesday,” Gabriel said.
He turned his head toward the corner of the large room.
There, tucked into an oversized leather armchair, Leo lay curled under a heavy wool blanket.
His small fingers clutched the cuff of an oversized black sweater—one of Sarah’s spares from the servants’ quarters.
“He refused to eat,” Gabriel continued, his voice dropping into a register so dark it made the hair on Sarah’s arms stand up.
“Until we brought him down here. He sat by your bedside and ate crackers because he thought you would wake up if he chewed quietly.”
Tears pricked the corners of Sarah’s eyes.
She had lived in this house as a ghost.
A shadow who cleaned silver and vanished into corners.
To realize that the heir of the Rossi empire had anchored his fragile little world to her broken body made something ache worse than her bullet wounds.
“Mrs. Gable…” Sarah began.
“Dead,” Gabriel said bluntly.
He did not flinch.
“She was paid forty thousand dollars by the Moretti family to call in sick and provide the shift change schedule. My men found her at the airport four hours after the attack.”
Sarah’s breath hitched.
In this world, betrayal had only one currency.
“You took three bullets meant for my blood,” Gabriel said, stepping closer until his tall frame blocked out the harsh fluorescent light above.
“My guards ran for cover. My lieutenants were in the basement grabbing sidearms. You were unarmed. You had a sewing needle.”
He looked down at his own hands.
“You chose to be his shield.”
“I couldn’t let them hurt him,” she whispered.
“He is just a baby.”
“He is a Rossi,” Gabriel countered, though the edge in his voice lacked its usual venom.
“Which makes him a target from the day he drew his first breath. But you… you had no obligation to die for us.”
The door opened.
Dr. Silva, the syndicate’s personal surgeon, walked in accompanied by two private nurses.
He checked the lines running into Sarah’s arms, nodding in quiet approval.
“She is exceptionally strong, Boss,” the doctor said.
“The bleeding stopped on day two. Vitals are stabilizing. But she cannot return to physical labor. Not for months. Perhaps never at full capacity.”
“She is not returning to physical labor,” Gabriel said.
The tone was absolute.
Final.
“Pack her belongings from the third-floor staff wing.”
Dr. Silva blinked.
“Where should we move her, sir?”
“The master suite,” Gabriel replied without looking back.
“Second floor. East wing.”
Sarah tried to sit up, but the agonizing burn in her ribs pinned her back to the pillows.
“Mr. Rossi, no,” she stammered, panic cutting through her exhaustion.
“The staff… they aren’t allowed in the east wing. I’m a maid. I can go to a recovery clinic or…”
Gabriel leaned over the guardrail of the bed.
He brought his face so close she could smell the dark roast coffee and cedarwood clinging to his skin.
“You stopped being a maid the second your blood touched my floor, Sarah,” he whispered.
“You are under my personal protection now. And in this house, there is only one place safe enough for the woman who saved my son.”
He reached out and, with shocking gentleness, brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.
His touch was warm, heavy, and terrifyingly possessive.
May you like
“Rest,” he told her.
“When you wake up again, everything changes.”
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