Chapter 7

Giovanny pulled Clarissa into the grand foyer of the estate. The rubber soles of his shoes squeaked sharply against the polished marble floor.

Arthur stepped forward, his hands trembling. "Sir. Master Theodore has just been stabilized."

Giovanny stopped dead. His shoulders dropped three inches. He let out a harsh, ragged exhale. The crushing grip on Clarissa's hand loosened just a fraction.

"Take me to him," Giovanny rasped.

Arthur nodded quickly and led them down a long corridor lined with oil paintings of Bartlett ancestors. They headed straight for the east wing, which had been converted into a state-of-the-art private medical facility.

The heavy double doors of the medical wing were closed.

Dr. Alistair Frye, the family's concierge physician, stood outside in the hallway, scrolling through a tablet.

Giovanny marched up to him. "Report."

"Acute myocardial ischemia, Giovanny," Dr. Frye said quietly. "It was severe. But thanks to the equipment here, we caught it in time. He is out of the woods for now."

Clarissa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her knees suddenly felt weak. She swayed slightly, leaning her weight against the wall.

Just then, the side door of the medical wing clicked open.

Genevieve Bartlett walked out.

The matriarch of New York high society always looked flawless. But tonight, her blonde hair was messy. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes.

She saw Giovanny and let out a broken sob. She threw her arms around her son's neck, burying her face in his chest.

"Oh, Giovanny, I was so terrified," she cried.

Giovanny wrapped his arms around her, patting her back gently. "It's over, Mother. He's safe."

After a minute, Genevieve pulled back. She wiped her eyes with a tissue.

She turned her head and finally noticed Clarissa standing against the wall.

Genevieve's eyes swept over them. She blinked. Then, she looked closer.

She looked at her son. Giovanny's hair was still damp. His shirt was completely unbuttoned at the collar, and the middle buttons were mismatched, exposing his chest.

Then, Genevieve looked at Clarissa.

Clarissa was wearing Giovanny's massive black trench coat. The coat was open. Underneath, her silk dress was completely soaked, clinging to every curve of her body like a second skin.

Genevieve's eyes moved up to Clarissa's face. Clarissa's cheeks were flushed a deep, bright red from the humiliation in the bathroom. Her eyes were slightly swollen from crying.

Genevieve's brain connected the dots.

The fear in the older woman's eyes vanished. It was instantly replaced by a look of absolute shock, followed by a massive, undeniable spark of joy.

Genevieve gasped loudly. She covered her mouth with her hands.

She leaned forward, dropping her voice into a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"Oh, dear God," Genevieve said, her eyes darting between their messy clothes. "Did I... did I interrupt you two in the middle of something very important?"

Clarissa froze. Her brain short-circuited.

She looked down at herself. The wet dress. The flushed skin. Giovanny's misbuttoned shirt.

The realization hit her like a freight train.

Her face burned hotter than fire. The blood rushed to her ears.

"No!" Clarissa stammered, waving her hands frantically. "No, Genevieve, it's not-it was an accident in the bathroom, we were just-"

Genevieve smiled. It was a knowing, thrilled smile. She stepped forward and grabbed Clarissa's cold hands.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to explain," Genevieve cooed. "You young people are so passionate. You didn't even have time to dry your hair before rushing here!"

Two maids and Dr. Frye immediately looked down at the floor, trying to hide their awkward smiles.

Clarissa wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She looked at Giovanny, her eyes wide with panic. She silently begged him to fix this. To tell the truth.

Giovanny stood perfectly still.

He looked at his mother's overjoyed face. Then he looked at Clarissa's terrified, flushed expression.

A dark, calculating shadow fell over Giovanny's eyes. A new, terrifying plan formed in his mind.