Chapter 1 - THE MAN IN THE ARCHWAY
The man standing beneath the archway did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
Every conversation in the dining room stopped the moment Julian Rostova stepped into the light.
Snow clung to the shoulders of his black overcoat.
Three men stood behind him, silent and watchful.
For three days, Julian had canceled meetings, shut down warehouses, and questioned half the criminal underworld in Sterling Ridge while searching for the animal curled against Clara’s chest.
His eyes moved first to the blood covering the hound’s gray coat.
Then they moved to Clara.
Finally, they settled on Vanessa’s raised stiletto.
“Bishop.”
The dog’s ears moved weakly.
His amber eyes opened.
A broken sound escaped his throat.
Julian crossed the room.
Vanessa’s face brightened with relief.
“Julian, thank God.”
She pointed at Clara.
“This server dragged a filthy animal into our dinner.”
Julian walked past her.
He removed his coat and knelt beside Clara.
Bishop attempted to lift his head.
Julian placed one hand against the hound’s broad neck.
“I’m here.”
The words were not spoken like an order.
They were spoken like a promise.
Clara’s arms still covered Bishop’s ribs.
Her side burned where Vanessa’s shoe had struck her.
She expected Julian to tell her to move.
Instead, he looked at the blood above her eyebrow.
“Did she do that?”
Clara swallowed.
“She kicked me.”
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“I barely touched her.”
Julian’s expression did not change.
“Bishop flinched before she kicked you.”
Clara looked down.
The dog had moved his body between her and the shoe even though he could barely breathe.
“He was protecting me,” she whispered.
“He does that.”
Julian carefully slid one arm beneath Bishop’s chest.
The dog weighed nearly one hundred and twenty pounds.
Two of Julian’s men moved forward to help.
Clara tightened her grip.
“He may have broken ribs.”
Julian stopped immediately.
“What do you need?”
“A flat board.”
“Blankets.”
“And someone to call an emergency veterinarian.”
The head chef stepped out from the kitchen.
“Mr. Rostova, health regulations—”
Julian looked at him once.
The chef stopped speaking.
“Bring her everything she asks for.”
Clara heard chairs moving behind her.
Guests were finally standing.
Not to help.
To create distance from Vanessa.
The woman who had seemed untouchable only minutes earlier now stood alone beside the banquet table.
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“You are humiliating me over a dog.”
Julian looked at the blood on Bishop’s coat.
“He is not a dog.”
“He is family.”
Then he looked at Clara.
“And she was the only person in this room who acted like a human being.”
Vanessa’s expression hardened.
“You cannot be serious.”
Julian rose slowly.
“Lock the doors.”
The men behind him moved at once.
Hotel security closed the dining-room exits.
Phones appeared across the tables.
Julian turned toward the guests.
“No one deletes a recording.”
“No one leaves until I know why Bishop was bleeding behind this building.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“This is supposed to be our engagement gala.”
Julian’s voice became colder.
“It was.”
One of his men returned with a service cart and folded tablecloths.
Clara helped them slide Bishop onto the makeshift stretcher.
As they lifted him, something small fell from the fur beneath his neck.
A black metal capsule struck the marble floor.
Julian picked it up.
The capsule had been hidden where Bishop’s collar once rested.
Across its surface were three scratched letters.
M.R.K.
Julian’s face changed.
Clara saw fear for the first time.
“Who is M.R.K.?” she asked.
Julian closed his hand around the capsule.
May you like
“My security chief.”
“He disappeared the same night Bishop did.”
