1THE MAID WAS HIDING BRUISES IN A MOB BOSS’S BATHROOM—THEN HE WALKED IN

Dark mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick leather-bound volumes, rare antiquities, and tactical gear locked behind reinforced glass cabinets. A massive oak desk sat in the center of the room, covered in architectural blueprints, financial ledgers, and a sleek laptop displaying encrypted code streams.

Harper sat stiffly on the edge of a velvet armchair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her thumb was wrapped in a makeshift tissue bandage she had hastily applied herself.

The door clicked open, and Gabriel walked in, carrying a small, silver-latched medical box. He dismissed Vance with a flick of his wrist, closing the heavy oak door behind him with a solid, echoing thud.

The room suddenly felt very small.

Gabriel walked over to the desk, set the medical box down, and pulled up a leather armchair directly opposite Harper. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

“You’re hiding something,” Gabriel said without preamble.

Harper swallowed hard, her throat dry as dust. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Ashford.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harper. It insults both of us.” Gabriel leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Yesterday I saw the bruises on your back. Tonight, I saw you flinch every time you bend your left side. And now you’re working three jobs while raising an eight-year-old boy in a shithole in Dorchester.”

Harper flinched as if she had been physically struck. “How do you—?”

“I own Boston,” Gabriel said simply, his tone devoid of arrogance, stating it as an absolute biological fact. “Nothing happens in this city without my knowledge. Especially not within three miles of my properties.”

“I’m just a maid,” Harper whispered, tears of frustration stinging the backs of her eyes. “I do my job, I take my pay, and I go home. You don’t need to care about what happens to me outside these walls.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Gabriel replied, standing up and walking over to the medical box. He popped the latches and pulled out antiseptic wipes, sterile gauze, and medical tape. “Or maybe I don’t like damaged goods working in my house without knowing who broke them.”

He walked over and pulled his chair closer, sitting directly in front of her. Without asking permission, he reached out and gently took her injured hand, unwrapping the makeshift tissue.

Harper tried to pull back. “Mr. Ashford, please—”

“Quiet,” he commanded gently, but firmly.

He took an antiseptic wipe and carefully cleaned the cut on her thumb. His touch was surprisingly light, steady, and practiced. Not the rough, violent hands she was used to from Derek. Gabriel’s hands were large, warm, and controlled.

“Who is he?” Gabriel asked quietly, his eyes focused entirely on her finger.

“I... I can’t tell you.”

“Is it a cop?”

Harper froze. Her breath caught in her throat. The antiseptic stung her skin, but she didn’t feel it.

Gabriel looked up, catching the terror in her eyes. A dark, dangerous shadow crossed his slate-gray gaze.

“A badge,” Gabriel murmured, a slow, humorless smile spreading across his lips. “Roxbury Precinct. Officer Derek Lawson. Am I close?”

Harper stared at him in horror. “How do you—?”

“Derek Lawson has three active domestic abuse complaints filed against him by neighbors over the last two years,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal purr. “Complaints that mysteriously vanished from the precinct database. A man who thinks his badge makes him a god in his own home.”

“He’ll kill me if he finds out I talked to anyone,” Harper whispered, a tear finally spilling over her lashes and cutting a clean path down her cheek. “He has friends in internal affairs. He has guns. If I leave him, he hunts me down. There’s nowhere in Boston safe from him.”

Gabriel finished taping her thumb, cut the gauze with a small pair of surgical scissors, and set the medical supplies aside. He reached up, his thumb gently wiping the tear from her cheek. His skin was warm against hers.

“Boston is my city, Harper,” Gabriel said, his voice carrying a terrifying, absolute certainty. “Not his. If Derek Lawson ever comes within five miles of you or your brother, he won’t have to worry about internal affairs.”