Chapter 2 - The Intercepted FilesThe silence that followed his statement was absolute. Arya instinctively tucked her hands behind her back, her face flushing a deep, burning crimson.
"It’s just an allergy to the cleaner, sir," she lied softly. "I’ll be finished with the rug in a moment."
Dante stood up from his desk, his towering frame casting a long, intimidating shadow across the room. He didn't approach her like a master checking on a servant; he moved with the predatory grace of a wolf observing a anomaly in his territory. He stopped inches away from her, his gaze dropping to the clipboard she had placed on the floor.
"You work two jobs," Dante stated flatly, his eyes locked onto her face. "You leave this estate at 5:00 PM to scrub dishes at a diner downtown until midnight. You send a cashier's check to Philadelphia every Friday. Your mother’s treatment is currently under review because the hospital foundation suddenly rejected her financial assistance request."
Arya’s breath caught completely in her throat. Her skin turned entirely pale. "How... how could you possibly know that?"
"I know the serial numbers of the bullets in my guards' magazines, Miss Mitchell," Dante said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. "Do you truly believe I wouldn't know the blood type of the woman cleaning my floors?"
Before Arya could form a response, Mrs. Caruso appeared at the open doorway, holding a silver tray. Her eyes darted between Dante and Arya, a momentary flicker of panic crossing her features before she masked it with a tight, professional smile.
"I hope the girl isn't causing a disruption, Mr. Valentino," the housekeeper said smoothly. "She is notoriously clumsy, but I monitor her closely."
"Caruso," Dante said without turning around. "Bring me the household discretionary log. The one detailing our monthly charitable foundation contributions."
May you like
Mrs. Caruso froze, the silver tray rattling slightly against her manicured fingernails. "Sir? That log is handled exclusively by the accounting department. I assure you everything is—"
"I did not ask for an assurance," Dante interrupted, his voice turning to ice. "I asked for the log. You have sixty seconds before I look for it myself."
