Chapter 3 - The Falling Stool
Nora leaned further over the deep metal basin, trying to exert more pressure on the stubborn ink stain.
Suddenly, the wet wooden stool shifted beneath her bare feet.
The stool tipped sideways. Nora gasped, losing her balance completely.
Before she could crash onto the cold tile floor, Luca moved with explosive speed. Crossing the room in a single leap, his large, warm hands caught Nora beneath her arms, lifting her effortlessly into the air.
The heavy, dripping white shirt fell from her hands, splashing into a puddle on the floor.
At that exact moment, the laundry room door opened wider. Emily Carter stood in the doorway. At twenty-nine, Emily was pale, exhausted, and visibly ill, wearing a modest gray housekeeping dress with a white apron. Seeing her three-year-old daughter suspended in the hands of the most dangerous man in New York, Emily placed a hand over her mouth in absolute horror.
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Nora looked up into Luca’s intense blue eyes, her breath catching in her throat.
"I’m sorry," Nora whimpered, her eyes filling with big, terrified tears.
