Chapter 2 - The Warmth Inside
The shift from twenty-two-degree wind to eighty-degree floor-heating hit Maya like a physical blow. Her knees buckled slightly.
Daniel caught her by the elbow, steadying her effortlessly. "Maya, sit down."
He guided her toward the hand-carved Italian bench in the entryway—a piece of furniture Vanessa spent two weeks selecting and strictly forbade staff from touching. Maya collapsed onto the mahogany, her arms still wrapped tightly around her ribs. Her lips were blue, her dark skin pale and dull from three hours of freezing air.
"Daniel, darling, let me get her a blanket," Vanessa said, stepping forward with a face full of delicate concern. She reached for a folded throw draped over the sofa. "I feel simply terrible. The security system locked up, and I couldn't find the emergency override manual anywhere in your study. I was going to call the estate line, but my phone battery died..."
Daniel stood up slowly. He was six-foot-two, and when he turned around, the quiet, pleasant demeanor he usually carried melted completely away.
"Your phone is on the side table next to the sofa," Daniel said. His voice wasn't raised. It was dangerously flat. "It's plugged into the wall."
Vanessa froze mid-step, her hand hovering over the blanket. "Well, yes, I plugged it in just a few minutes ago—"
"The keypad on the front entrance doesn't jam, Vanessa," Daniel continued, stepping closer to her. "It routes through my primary phone. If the lock had thrown an error code, I would have received a security alert at the office. The system didn't jam. It was locked manually from the inside panel."
Vanessa blinked. For a fraction of a second, her polished, socialite mask slipped, revealing a flash of sharp annoyance. But she recovered instantly, forcing a tear to weld in the corner of her eye.
"Are you accusing me of leaving her out there on purpose?" Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. "Daniel, how could you think that of me? I was in the library reading! I didn't realize how cold it had gotten outside! I thought she had gone around to the staff quarters or her car!"
"Her car was parked in the lower lot," Daniel said. "You can see it directly from the library window."
He turned away from her, walking quickly into the kitchen. He grabbed a clean dish towel, ran it under warm water, and returned to Maya. He dropped to one knee in front of the bench—unconcerned about his eight-hundred-dollar suit touching the floor—and gently wrapped the warm towel around Maya's frozen, numb fingers.
Maya flinched at the heat. "Mr. Whitfield... it's okay. I can... I can just go home."
"You aren't driving anywhere until your hands work, Maya," Daniel said firmly. He looked up at her eyes, seeing the utter terror and exhaustion behind them. "How long were you out there?"
Maya glanced at Vanessa, who was standing three feet away, staring at her with eyes like polished obsidian. The subtle, unspoken threat was loud and clear: Say the wrong thing, and you won't have a job tomorrow.
"Maya," Daniel said, his voice dropping into a tone of quiet authority that demanded absolute truth. "Look at me. Not at her. How long?"
Maya swallowed hard, her throat raw from the cold wind. "Since... since one thirty. When the flower delivery was supposed to come."
Daniel’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched near his ear. He looked at his watch. It was 4:56 PM.
"Three and a half hours," Daniel whispered.
He stood up slowly. The air in the grand foyer suddenly felt colder than the wind outside. He looked at Vanessa, who had taken a small step backward toward the grand staircase.
"Vanessa," Daniel said, his voice dropping an octave. "Go to the master suite."
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"Daniel, let's talk about this rationally—"
"Go to the master suite," he repeated, every word heavy as lead. "Pack your personal bags. The driver will take you to a hotel in ten minutes."
