Part 2
Nora glanced at Roman’s hand, still clenched around the arm of the leather chair.
“I disagree with the idea that you were resting,” she said carefully.
Roman studied her as though she had answered in a language no one else dared speak in his house.
Most people either lied to him beautifully or feared him poorly. Nora Hayes did neither. She stood beside the library table in a plain black uniform, her hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck, her hands folded as if she had not just seen the most feared man on the waterfront shivering beneath a nightmare.
“You make a habit of correcting your employer?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“But you made an exception.”
“You looked like you needed one.”
The silence that followed was long enough for Nora to regret every word. Then Roman reached for the teacup. He did not drink from it. He simply held it between both hands, letting the warmth press into his palms.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She blinked.
“Nora Hayes.”
His gaze shifted, sharpening faintly.
“You’ve worked here five years.”
“Yes.”
“And I never asked.”
“No, sir.”
Something moved across his face. Not guilt. Roman Calder did not wear guilt where anyone could see it. But his eyes lowered to the tea, and his voice changed by half a shade.
“Thank you, Nora Hayes.”
It was such a small thing.
Two words.
Yet Nora carried them into the kitchen like a secret coin hidden under her tongue.
By eight o’clock, the house had awakened into its usual quiet storm. Men in dark suits came and went through the eastern entrance. Phones rang behind closed doors. The housekeeper, Marta, issued instructions in clipped whispers. The Calder estate never felt crowded, but it was always occupied by danger.
Nora was arranging breakfast when Evelyn Sterling arrived.
She swept through the foyer in a cream wool coat and pearl gloves, bringing the scent of expensive perfume and winter roses. Evelyn always looked as though she had stepped out of a portrait hung in a room no one was allowed to enter. Her blonde hair was flawless. Her smile was flawless. Even her cruelty, when she chose to reveal it, had a polished edge.
“Nora,” Evelyn said, removing one glove finger by finger. “Roman is in the library?”
