Mafia boss notices his maid hiding bruises. What he did next was shocking. The coffee cup slipped. Not much, just a

quarter inch. As Elena Martinez poured Nikolai Moretti’s morning espresso, but it was enough. Enough for the scalding

liquid to splash. Enough for her to jerk her hand back. Enough for her sleeve to slide up her arm. Enough for him to see

everything she’d been hiding for 6 months. Nikolai’s hand shot out faster than a snake strike, catching her wrist

before she could yank the sleeve back down. Not rough, not violent, but absolutely unyielding. Don’t. His voice

was quiet. Deadly quiet. The kind of quiet that made grown men confess to crimes they didn’t commit. Elena froze.

Every muscle in her body locked. Her brain screamed, “Run!” But her feet wouldn’t move because she’d just made

the worst mistake of her life. She’d let him see. purple bruises wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet finger-shaped

for on top, one underneath where a thumb had pressed so hard it left an outline.

Some bruises were fresh, dark purple, almost black. Others were healing, yellow and green, and sick. Before we

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do not want to miss a single second of this. Let’s go. Nikolai Moretti stared at Elena’s wrist like it was a bomb

about to explode. And in a way, it was because the most dangerous mafia boss in

New York had just discovered that someone someone had put their hands on a woman under his roof. And Nikolai

Moretti had exactly one rule about men who hit women. They didn’t get to keep breathing. Who did this? Not a question,

a command. Elena’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her throat had closed.

Her lungs forgot how to work. Because this was it. The moment everything fell apart. He’d fire her. Deport her. She’d

end up back with Carlos with nowhere left to run. I I fell. She stammered in

her accented English. I’m clumsy. I look at me. She couldn’t. She stared at the

Italian marble floor like it held the secrets of the universe. Elena, her name in his mouth was different. Not the boss

voice, something else, something almost gentle. Look at me. She raised her eyes

and immediately wish she hadn’t because Nikolai Moretti’s face had transformed into something that would haunt her

dreams for very different reasons than Carlos did. His jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscle jumping.

His eyes, those cold gray eyes that made hardened criminals confess everything,

were burning with rage, so pure it felt like standing next to a furnace. But he wasn’t looking at her with that rage. He

was looking at her wrist. Those are finger marks, Nikolai said. Each word precise and controlled. Four on top, one

underneath. Someone grabbed you hard recently. His eyes flicked to her face,

cataloging. And there’s a bruise on your cheekbone under the makeup. I can see it. Elena’s free hand flew to her face

instinctively. She’d been so careful with the concealer this morning. How did he? I notice everything. Nikolai said,

reading her mind. It’s how I stay alive. It’s how I know you didn’t fall. It’s how I know someone put their hands on

you. He paused. And it’s how I know this isn’t the first time. Tears burned behind Elena’s eyes, but she blinked

them back. She would not cry in front of her boss. Would not be weak. Would not.

Please, she whispered. Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I’ll be more careful. I’ll cover them better. I fire

you. Nikolai’s expression shifted to something like confusion, then understanding. Then that rage again.

Hotter. You think I’d fire you for being hurt. I brought trouble to your house. I

No. Nikolai released her wrist but didn’t step back. You brought nothing. Whoever did this brought trouble to

themselves. His voice dropped to something lethal. Because they just became my problem to solve. You don’t

understand. Then make me understand. Nikolai pulled out a chair. Sit. I

can’t. I have to finish. Sit down. Not cruel, but absolute. Elena sat. Her legs

wouldn’t have held her much longer. Anyway, Nikolai sat across from her. Not at the head of the table where he

usually sat. Directly across. I level. Equal. Talk to me. He said. Who did

this? I can’t tell you. Can’t or won’t. Both. Elena’s voice cracked. He’ll kill

If I tell anyone, he’ll he. Nikolai leaned forward slightly. Boyfriend.

Husband. Boyfriend. The word tasted like poison. Name? I can’t. Elena. Nikolai’s

voice was still gentle, but there was steel underneath. I’m going to find out with or without your help, but I’d

rather hear it from you because I need to know what I’m dealing with. Who I’m protecting you from. You can’t protect

A bitter laugh escaped her. Nobody can. Carlos, he is friends. Dangerous

friends. He’s told me what they’ll do if I leave. If I tell anyone, if I Carlos

Nikolai said the name like a curse. Carlos, what? Vega. But please, Mr.

Moretti, you have to understand. I understand perfectly. Nikolai stood up,

pulled out his phone. Dimmitri, my office now. He hung up, looked at Elena,

my head of security. He’s going to change all the access codes. Carlos Vega

doesn’t get into this building ever. He knows where I work. Elena stood up, panic, flooding her system. He’ll come

here. He’ll make a scene. He’ll let him. Nikolai’s smile was terrifying. I’d love

to meet the man who thinks he can put his hands on someone in my employee and face no consequences. The door burst

open. A man built like a tank with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow entered.

Dimmitri, Nikolai’s second in command, the man who made problems disappear. He

took one look at Elena’s face at Nikolai’s expression and his hand moved toward the gun under his jacket. What

happened? Dimmitri’s voice was pure gravel. Someone’s been putting hands on Elena. Nikolai’s words were clipped.

Carlos Vega, I want his address, employment history, criminal record, known associates, and daily schedule. I

want it in 2 hours. Boss Elena tried to interrupt. I want security footage from

every entrance and exit of this building for the past 6 months. I want to know if he’s been here, been watching, been

waiting. Nikolai kept going like Elena hadn’t spoken and I want Father Marco on the phone. Elena’s going to need someone

to talk to who isn’t me already on it. Dmitri pulled out his phone, started texting rapid fire. I don’t need a

priest, Elena said. I need you to let this go. Please. Carlos will hurt you.