Chapter 2

Later that afternoon, I signed the company’s transfer agreement.

I would move to Boston and take charge of a new project for Bellini Holdings. If everything went well, the position would become permanent.

The head of human resources checked my signature, then glanced at my engagement ring.

“This isn’t a short assignment. Does Adrian know you’re moving?”

“It’s my decision.”

She let the subject drop.

In the past, I would have told Adrian first. The last time I was offered a new position, I brought the contract home and asked what he thought.

He read a few pages before pushing it back across the desk.

“It’s your career, Elena. You don’t need my opinion on every decision.”

Yet when Mia applied for an internship at St. Gabriel, he reviewed her application, helped her prepare for the interview, and called the hospital himself when she became nervous.

He had spent more time preparing Mia for one interview than he had spent discussing my last job offer.

When I returned to the penthouse, an unfamiliar pair of shoes sat in the entrance hall. A canvas bag bearing the St. Gabriel crest rested on the sofa beside several moving boxes.

The guest room had already been taken over.

Clothes filled the wardrobe, while medicine and cosmetics covered the dressing table. The fresh sheets I had prepared were gone, and a navy cashmere blanket rested across the foot of the bed.

Adrian had brought it back for me from Florence.

I had prepared the room for Sofia, who planned to stay after my surgery. Everything I had left for her had been packed into a corner.

The private elevator opened behind me.

Mia entered first, carrying two coffees. Adrian followed, answering a message on his phone.

“Elena.” Mia’s smile faltered when she noticed the open door. “You’re home.”

I looked at Adrian.

“Why is she staying here?”

“Someone left a threat in her locker,” he said. “I didn’t want her staying at the hospital residence until security checked it.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It’s only for a few days.”

“Sofia is supposed to stay here after my surgery.”

Adrian paused.

That brief silence told me he had forgotten.

His gaze moved into the room and settled on the blanket.

“Mia didn’t know the room was prepared for someone else. I’ll have everything put back.”

“You knew.”

Mia set down the coffees.

“I’m sorry. Doctor DeLuca said this place was secure. I didn’t realize I was disrupting your plans.”

She lifted the cashmere blanket from the bed and held it against herself for a moment before folding it.

“I thought it was for guests. I wouldn’t have used it if I had known it was special.”

Adrian looked at the blanket, then at me.

“Move Mia’s things to the East Side apartment,” he told the house manager. “Give her two guards.”

Mia’s face tightened.

“I can return to the residence.”

“You found a threat inside your locker last night.”

“It may have been a joke.”

“The Caruso family placed you under DeLuca protection. I’m not treating it as one.”

He handled the problem quickly, with the same efficiency that had once made me trust him completely.

Mia lowered her eyes.

“The East Side is far from the hospital. I may still need Doctor DeLuca to pick me up after night shifts.”

Then she went into the guest room and closed the door.

Adrian offered me one of the coffees. The cup carried the logo of a new French restaurant.

“Mia passed her first clinical assessment, so I took her to lunch. You’d probably like the place. We can go after your surgery.”

Three months earlier, I had sent him the reservation page for that same restaurant. He never replied. Later, he said the hospital was too busy and suggested I go with a friend.

Now he had already taken Mia.

“You don’t need to make a reservation.”

His hand remained between us for a moment before he lowered it.

I went to the bedroom and placed my passport, work files, and several changes of clothes into a suitcase.

Adrian appeared in the doorway soon after.

“What are you packing?”

“Project materials.”

“What kind of project requires half your wardrobe?”

I closed the inner compartment without answering.

His attention moved from my passport to the empty space inside the closet.

“Elena, where are you going?”

Two weeks ago, he had told me I did not need to report every part of my life to him.

Now that I had stopped, he was finally beginning to ask.