Chapter 4
The silence in the study was absolute, unbroken save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of the baby strapped to Mia’s back. The wide, cinematic space of the room suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic. Mia cautiously walked past Mr. Duca, her simple shoes making no sound on the thick carpet. She moved toward the massive, floor-to-ceiling bookcase, her eyes fixed on a specific, shadowed section of the wooden shelving located near the center of the wall.
Mr. Duca immediately stepped beside her, his protective instincts flaring to life. His physical presence was imposing, a dark wall of tailored fabric and muscle meant to shield the child from whatever had captured her attention. He was instantly alert, his eyes scanning the rows of antique books and the polished mahogany paneling. To him, it was a solid, impenetrable wall. There were no doors, no seams, no logical reason for the child’s intense focus.
Mia stopped just three feet away from the shelves. She raised one trembling finger, pointing directly at a dark, shadowed gap between a set of heavy encyclopedias.
"Mia," Mr. Duca prompted gently, his deep voice barely a murmur. "What are you looking at?"
Mia kept her finger raised, her innocent eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and deep-seated fear. She didn't look at the billionaire; she kept her gaze locked onto the wood.
"Mr. Duca..." Mia whispered quietly, her voice trembling in the still air. "...why does someone keep knocking from inside there?"
Mr. Duca’s face hardened instantly. The blood ran cold beneath his rosy skin. The protective warmth he had just exhibited vanished, replaced by the lethal, calculating demeanor of a man who dealt with extremely dangerous enemies. He stepped completely in front of Mia, using his broad shoulders to block her entirely from the bookcase.
He slowly reached his tattooed hand toward the wooden paneling, his mind racing. This mansion was a fortress. State-of-the-art security, armed patrols, motion sensors on every window and door.
"What did you say?" Mr. Duca asked in a stunned, dangerous whisper, his hand hovering inches from the wood.
Mia suddenly reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his white dress shirt, her tiny fingers digging into the expensive fabric.
"Listen," Mia whispered urgently, pulling back slightly.
Everyone in the room became completely, terrifyingly still. Mr. Duca held his breath, the muscles in his chest tightening. He focused all his senses on the supposedly solid wall in front of him. For five agonizing seconds, there was nothing but the distant sound of the rain lashing against the mansion's exterior windows.
Then, from deep behind the heavy mahogany shelving, muffled but entirely unmistakable, came the sound.
KNOCK.
Mr. Duca’s eyes widened.
KNOCK.
The sound was heavy, rhythmic, and desperate. It was the sound of a human fist striking solid wood from the inside of a space that was not supposed to exist.
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KNOCK.
Mr. Duca jerked his eyes toward the center of the bookcase, his mind violently rejecting the reality of the situation. At the sudden, sharp noise, baby Lily suddenly woke up. She shifted against Mia’s back inside the faded pink cloth carrier and let out a startled, high-pitched cry that shattered the tension in the room.
