Chapter 2 - The Face in the Mirror
Willa’s breath caught. For a terrifying second, she thought he knew. She thought the disguise had failed, that he had uncovered the true identity of Victoria Sterling, daughter of the man the Ashfords had crushed.
"Mr. Ashford, I—"
"Take off the glasses, Willa," he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, carrying an absolute authority that brooked no argument.
With trembling fingers, Willa reached up, slipped the thick frames off her face, and lowered her hands.
Kendrick stared at her. The dim amber lights caught the fine bone structure of her face, the subtle curve of her jaw, and the striking, luminous hazel of her eyes—eyes that she usually hid behind tinted lenses and lowered lashes. A flicker of recognition crossed Kendrick’s sharp features, so fast and subtle that most men would have missed it.
"Have we met before?" Kendrick asked, his voice tightening ever so slightly.
Willa’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. This was the moment. One wrong word, one stutter, and she would vanish into the East River before midnight. She had rehearsed this lie for two thousand days.
"No, sir," she said, her voice clearing, finding a desperate, icy composure born of sheer survival. "I grew up in upstate New York. I moved to the city eight months ago. I work two jobs to pay rent in a cramped studio in Queens. I am a nobody."
Kendrick held her gaze, searching her eyes for any micro-expression of deceit. For five agonizing seconds, the room was suspended in time. Even Titan stopped breathing, his massive head lifting to watch his master.
Then, slowly, Kendrick straightened up. A faint, inscrutable shadow crossed his lips.
"A nobody wouldn't have stood their ground against Barrett downstairs," Kendrick remarked, turning away to pick up his bourbon glass. "A nobody would have begged for mercy when my guards blocked the door. You didn't blink."
"I was terrified," Willa shot back, the sudden spike of adrenaline overriding her fear. "Fear doesn't always look like crying, Mr. Ashford. Sometimes it looks like standing still because running makes you a target."
Kendrick paused, his glass halfway to his mouth. A slow, dangerous smile curved the corner of his mouth—the first genuine expression of amusement Willa had seen on the syndicate boss.
"Interesting," Kendrick murmured. "You have spirit. The women downstairs are bred to smile, nod, and agree with everything said in a room. You look like you're ready to pick a fight."
"I don't want a fight. I want to go home," Willa said plainly.
May you like
"You are home," Kendrick replied casually, walking toward the double doors leading to the interior of the penthouse. "At least for the foreseeable future. Penny wants you. And until my daughter decides otherwise, what Penny wants, Penny gets. Consider yourself promoted, Miss Willa. Your new job is keeping a five-year-old girl company."
Before Willa could protest, Kendrick walked out of the room, leaving her alone with the giant mastiff and a terrifying new reality.
