EVERY WOMAN RAN FROM THE MAFIA BOSS’S LOCKED EAST WING… UNTIL THE NEW MAID LOOKED AT THE BEAST BESIDE HIS BED AND SPOKE ITS REAL NAME

learned the rhythms quickly. Breakfast at six. Fresh flowers by eight. Library dusted before noon. West hall closed on Thursdays. No one touched the framed photograph in the blue sitting room where Dante stood beside two men, one dead, one disappeared, and himself somehow looking less dangerous at twenty than he did at thirty-eight.

She saw Dante only continue reading …