Chapter 1
The soft, steady patter of rain against the window in front of me made the view outside even more beautiful—a breathtaking sight of a spring garden stretching around the entire estate.
Every now and then, a deep sigh escaped my lips.
God, I wish I could go outside in this weather.
Standing beside me, John was making a ridiculously pathetic attempt to scratch the back of his ankle with the toe of his shoe without moving too much. His perfectly pressed trousers apparently weren't going to scratch themselves.
“At this point, I'd breath chemical gas if it means i can lay in bed..”
I ignored his usual complaints about the endless shifts, closed my eyes, and tried to calm myself by focusing on the sound of the rain—growing heavier by the second.
My imprompt meditation lasted all of a few seconds.
A gunshot erupted from the room behind us, drowning out not only the rain but every other beautiful sound that had reached my ears until that moment.
Out of habit—a habit this house had drilled into me over the past five months—I had my gun in my hand and was through the door within seconds, ready to fire at whatever enemy I imagined waiting on the other side.
But the scene before me—strangely familiar by now—made me lower my guard.
I released the breath I'd been holding and stepped aside, allowing John and the other two bodyguards who had been standing behind me to enter.
As usual, the first thing that caught my attention in Dante's office was his imposing frame and commanding presence.
Even with a freshly dead body lying on the floor, blood still seeping from the wound in his chest.
My jaw tightened.
It didn't matter how many times the smell of fresh blood filled my lungs; I was almost certain that sickening feeling would never go away.
I dragged my gaze away from the middle-aged man sprawled lifelessly across the floor and looked at the monster standing a few feet away.
Dante was calmly wiping a stain from his sleeve, completely indifferent—as though he'd merely crushed an annoying cockroach beneath his shoe.
Sometimes, he killed people so casually and so often that I genuinely wondered if he had some kind of secret partnership with the Angel of Death.
Of course, John and I had already ruled out that theory during one of our private conversations.
Mostly because, considering Dante himself was the Devil, apparently there was no need for him to work with Death.
Dante lifted his head, catching my gaze with those sharp green eyes of his.
I stepped forward, crouched down, and held my breath as I tried to lift the body.
I hadn't even managed to get a proper grip when his deep, commanding voice—laced with unmistakable sarcasm—filled the room.
“I'm starting to think it's time I wrote the three of you a six-month paid leave.”
Other guards froze.
Even I stopped what I was doing and looked back at him in surprise.
He took a step backward and settled into the chair behind his desk.
“After all, you just gave birth and clearly need some time to recover.”
This time, a mocking smirk accompanied his words.
“I can't think of any reason other than childbirth for three grown men to stand around while a woman is the one lifting a corpse.”
My eyebrow shot upward.
Dante... being a gentleman?
That was new.
When John and the other two men finally stepped forward and took the weight of the body from my hands, I didn't protest.
I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when his voice filled the room again.
And there went any remaining possibility of him being a gentleman.
“Delvin stays.”
His eyes settled on me.
“She will clean up this mess..”
