I couldn’t help but wonder how he was handling it. Was he being diligent with the payments? Or was he already drowning in the next mess he had gotten himself into? My stomach twisted uneasily at the thought.
I knew my father—knew his habits, his weaknesses. Even if he’d managed to scrape together enough for the first payment, what about the next? And the one after that? He had a way of convincing himself things would work out, even when they never did, and I hated the gnawing fear that he might not actually be making the payments.
No, I couldn’t think like that. I was his only daughter; if I gave up on him, who else would believe in him? He’d pay it off—he had to. He’d raised me on promises, some broken, a few kept, but this one he wouldn’t fail. Not when everything depended on it.
My gaze fell back to the pocket watch, the tiny folded note still clutched in my hand.Look beneath the gaze of those who watch.The words tugged at me, a puzzle demanding to be solved. My heart thudded faster as I glanced around the only slightlycluttered room. If that next clue was somewhere in this house, I was going to find it.
I straightened my shoulders, resolve hardening in my chest. Whatever secrets this place was hiding, I would uncover them, clue by clue.
Chapter 21
Felix
Iwas on edge about seeing Tessa again. Would she be pissed that I’d slipped out without a word this morning? The thought irritated me almost as much as it unsettled me. Christ, I sounded pathetic. I was Felix Marchioni—men crossed the street to avoid me—yet here I was, second-guessing myself over a girl.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
I told myself it didn’t matter, that I didn’t give a damn what she thought of me. But the truth bled through anyway, no matter how hard I tried to shove it back down. Tessa had a way of making me second-guess myself, of stirring up feelings I had no business carrying.
She wasn’t supposed to matter. She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than my maid. Yet here she was, occupying half my thoughts, crawling under my skin, and making it impossible to focus on anything else.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shove my thoughts back into place. With the other, I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, counting each beat in a feeble attempt to steady myself. Focus. Control. Discipline. That was all I had, and all I could hold onto.
Yet even as I forced my mind onto schedules, deadlines, and numbers, she crept in between each thought. Her name, her touch, the way she had looked at me last night—it all lingered, unwanted and relentless. I hated how little power I had over it, how easily she could unravel the carefully constructed walls I had built around myself.
The thoughts only grew louder as I neared the brownstone. Hopefully she’s still asleep. I didn’t want to face her, didn’t want to confront the unfamiliar pull she had on me, or the feelings I wasn’t ready to name.
But as I reached the steps, I noticed something: The front door stood ajar.
My chest tightened, and a cold, sharp edge cut through my chest.She ran.The idea wasn’t just frustrating—it was infuriating, unacceptable. No one slipped away from me. Thoughts raced through my mind, dark and possessive: what if she thought she could leave? What if she tried to hide? The consequences flashed before me, ruthless and immediate.
I shoved the car door open and stalked up the steps, every nerve on fire, every sense screaming alert. The entryway was silent, empty, but my imagination didn’t wait for proof. Every shadow could be her, every creak a lie.
“She can try,” I growled to myself, voice barely more than a rumble. “But running won’t save her.”
A flicker of candlelight spilled from the room down the hall. I moved toward it with slow, deliberate steps, every muscle coiled, senses sharp.
My mind raced through possibilities.Is it her, or some idiot squatter who broke in while she was gone?The thought didn’t calm me; it made the hunt more dangerous, more necessary. Whoever it was hadn’t expected me, and they weren’t walking away.
Step by step, I closed the distance, eyes locked on the glow, every motion precise, every thought focused. Soon, I’d know.
And then I saw her.
Tessa sat there in her underwear, looking utterly miserable. Sweat glistened on her skin, slick and warm, and the sight of her sent a strong pull through me, part protectiveness, part possession. She wasn’t supposed to be like this, exposed and untended, yet here she was.
I stepped closer, deliberate and slow, letting my gaze trace her form, memorizing every line. Every inch of her drew a tightening through my chest, a hunger I couldn’t deny.
I shoved the flicker of relief aside, replacing it with irritation sharp enough to taste.
“Why the hell is the front door open?” I growled, voice low and dangerous, eyes narrowing as I pinned her with my stare.
“The power is out on the whole block,” she said, wiping away the sweat on her forehead. “It’s a hundred degrees outside.”
“And you just… opened the door?” I hissed, teeth clenched, eyes dark as I stepped closer. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? Do you know what type of people are out there?”
“No more dangerous than the neighborhood I grew up in,” she said, voice tight but defiant, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead.
I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to her, “I’ll need to upgrade the security system… add a backup in case the power fails again.”
