Chapter 2 - The First Rule Clara Broke
Dominic dismissed the guards.
He dismissed the cook.
He dismissed the two maids watching from the corridor.
He did not dismiss Clara.
"Sit down," he told her.
Clara remained standing.
"I'm wet."
Dominic glanced at the puddle covering half the foyer.
Under different circumstances, it might have been funny.
Nothing about that house felt funny.
Noah still held Clara's sweater.
Dominic lowered himself onto one knee.
The sight was strange.
A man whose name terrified judges and businessmen had suddenly become only a father trying not to frighten his four-year-old son.
"Noah."
The boy pressed his face against Clara's back.
Dominic swallowed.
"Can you look at me?"
No response.
Mrs. Hargrove stepped forward.
"He needs his medication."
Noah's fingers tightened instantly.
Clara felt it.
Dominic saw it.
"What medication?" Clara asked.
Mrs. Hargrove stared at her.
"That doesn't concern you."
"It concerns him."
Dominic's gaze moved between them.
"Hargrove."
The older woman straightened.
"Dr. Calder prescribed a mild sedative for episodes."
"How often?"
"As necessary."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"How often?"
Mrs. Hargrove paused.
"Most evenings."
Dominic looked at Noah.
Clara felt something cold move through her stomach.
The boy's violence had been described as constant.
Yet since Mrs. Hargrove stopped approaching, Noah had done nothing except hide.
Dominic stood.
"Get Dr. Calder on the phone."
Mrs. Hargrove did not move.
"Now."
She turned away.
Before leaving, she looked at Clara.
The warning in her eyes was unmistakable.
Dominic waited until she disappeared.
Then he faced Clara.
"What did you see?"
Clara could have protected herself.
She could have said nothing.
She remembered Tyler's hospital bills.
She remembered why she needed the job.
Then Noah's little hand tightened in her sweater again.
"He looked at her brooch before he said no."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"Anything else?"
"He wasn't angry when she came toward him."
Clara looked down at Noah.
"He was terrified."
The words seemed to strike Dominic harder than the bronze horse had struck Clara.
He walked toward the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he turned.
"You were told not to speak to my son."
"Yes."
"You ignored the instruction."
"Yes."
"You contradicted my house manager."
"Yes."
"And you told my guards not to touch him."
Clara nodded.
Dominic stared at her.
"You've been here forty-seven minutes."
Clara expected to be fired.
Instead, Dominic said, "You're no longer cleaning the foyer."
Her stomach dropped.
"I need this job."
"I didn't say you lost it."
He looked at Noah.
"Until I understand what just happened, you stay near him."
Clara blinked.
"I'm not a nanny."
"Neither were the last eighteen for very long."
For the first time, Noah peeked around Clara.
Dominic saw his son's face.
The boy whispered something too quiet to understand.
Clara crouched.
"What?"
Noah stared toward the corridor where Mrs. Hargrove had disappeared.
Then he pressed one finger against his lips.
Clara's heartbeat changed.
It was not a childish gesture.
It was a warning.
May you like
Be quiet.
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