Chapter 10

MIA

M anly's famous shoreline was heaving with dogs being walked, couples holding hands, and eager punters crowding cafes, keen for a refreshing drink on a hot day.

Baby oil glistened on naked backs and stomachs, hairless chests and bulging biceps flexed, and half-clothed bronzed runners pounded the tree-lined promenade. The beach was a pristine ivory, the surf a vivid blue, and the sun a yellow orb above the glittering shore.

None of which registered with me.

It was morning, and I had much to accomplish that day.

I clocked the white and sand wooden panel-clad sanctuary oriented to the north.

It was nestled in one of Manly's most peaceful and private streets, basking in a tranquil setting of trees and green lawns with elevated ocean views.

I stood at the entrance of my new client's home, my dark hair pulled back into a tight bun and my eyes taking in every detail.

My head-to-toe cleaning ensemble was in low-key silver and grey, elegant, clean, and professional.

On my nape rested my mother's necklace for luck, where I'd strung Bianca's tiny fist-shaped amulet, sensing her close to me as well this way.

I smoothed my hands over my trousers, spotted the security pad and tapped out the password given to me by Mr Reed Jones' assistant.

As I'd come to find, many of these extensive homes were deserted. Their owners were often either on holiday or at work, so cleaners let themselves in with a unique code that was also a safeguard feature.

The device beeped, and the massive wooden front door swung ajar with a sigh.

Gathering my cleaning equipment, I stepped into a high hallway that swept past two levels and towards a glass atrium, flooding the floors below with light.

‘Hello?' I called out as usual to double-check I was alone.

I got no response from the hum of an air conditioner and a fridge in the unseen kitchen.

I ventured further. My rubber-soled shoes were silent over the heated travertine tiles flowing seamlessly throughout the open-plan space.

The property was designed with impeccable finishes, exuding luxury at every turn.

The living room I found was stunning, filled with beach-toned furniture and fittings, the perfect environment for a seaside retreat.

The home's culinary centre was a masterpiece of sleek contemporary design and premium textures. It featured a sizeable island serving area connected to the alfresco dining room.

It was positioned to capture the poolside ambience, sunlit lawns beyond, and a gate that opened to a private pathway to the seashore below.

I spotted an in-ground pool with hardwood decking and baby blue stone coping stones.

To the kitchen's right, a door led past a generous internal laundry with extensive built-in storage to an oversized remote garage.

In my cleaning career, I'd seen many houses, but this one stood out for its simplicity and mastery of design.

The high-end kitchen was packed with state-of-the-art machines, and the fridge was empty.

However, the entire place was a tad musty, and every surface was covered in a light layer of dust from lack of use.

It meant more than four hours of tidying to get it all done.

So, I braced myself and typed out the work order on my iPad, detailing the number of rooms and the effort required for invoicing.

‘All right, Mia,' I whispered, adjusting my gloves. ‘Time to unleash your magic.'

I set about the task at hand with cleaning cloths and spray bottles.

I aired the windows, wiped the gleaming surfaces and shook out the plush rugs. My wipes glided over the smooth marble finishes and chrome faucets until my reflection shone.

My meticulous attention to detail had earned Queen Clean a reputation for excellence. As its proud owner, I took immense pride in upholding my high standards.

I worked through each room – dusting the furnishings, vacuuming the carpets, and polishing the expansive wood floors.

Moving through the house, I couldn't help but take note of its impersonal vibe.

The job description stated the house had recently been sold, thus its soullessness.

For a moment, I imagined it with a personal touch of beautiful art, pictures and drawings. Perhaps surfboards on the walls, a well-worn leather armchair where one might spend countless nights reading, and a sketchpad and pencils left on the coffee table, revealing a creative side.

A girl could dream, I sighed, pushing aside my thoughts and set to my task.

A few hours later, the place was gleaming.

My back was breaking, but I got it done, from top to bottom.

I heaved a sigh of relief, checked the time and gasped.

I had a finance class in half an hour.

Gathering my stuff in a haphazard fashion, I rushed to the mansion's massive front door.

I punched in the secure alarm code, arming the door. I was in my van in minutes, dashing through the expressway and across the Sydney Harbour Bridge to my university lecture theatre.

It wasn't until later, as I was mulling the intricacies of economics for business decision-making, that I had a sudden thought.

Damn. I'd left my pail of expensive eco solutions and microfiber cloths in Manly.

I had another gig the following day and needed them.

Wracking my brain, I remembered Mr Reed Jones had mentioned that the new house owners were expected sometime this week.

If I chanced it, and if they weren't home, I'd be able to slip back in tonight to fetch my precious gear.

I decided to take the risk and return to the mansion that evening to retrieve my cleaning supplies.

Slipping out of the university building, I made a beeline for my car and sped back towards Manly, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The sun had already set when I reached the exclusive neighbourhood where the residence waited, cloaked in shadows and silence.

I parked my van a few blocks away from the house.

The night air was still cool, adding an eerie quality to the empty streets.

As I approached the property entrance, my stomach rippled with butterflies. I hated entering any cold, dark house alone.

The mansion stood silent and imposing in the darkness, its windows reflecting the faint glow of distant streetlights.

I punched in the alarm passcode I had memorised earlier and slipped through the gates like a trespasser in the night. The front door loomed ahead, a solid barrier between me and my supplies.

I was reaching to punch the secondary security code when I spotted the door was ajar.

Had I left it open?

I'd rushed out in such a hurry beforehand, but there was no way I'd not have pulled it close behind me.

My spider senses kicked in. Still, with a soft curse, I stepped in, ears and eyes on alert.

I proceeded to the kitchen, where I had misplaced my cleaning equipment. A sudden noise made me freeze midway through the expansive corridor.

The muted creak was followed by a faint shuffle, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart pounded as I strained to listen for any further sounds.

That's when I caught a light coming from under the door to the study to my left.

I froze.

My pulse quickened, and I stood, limbs locked in the dim, dark hallway, my breath catching in my throat.

Who was in the house freakin' with me? Had the homeowners taken possession of their keys early? If so, could I run for it and slip out undetected?

More clatters rang out, this time with distinct thwacks and hits.

Followed by the crash of furniture and loud cursing.

I tried to move, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

A muffled sound reached my ears as I entertained options for unlocking my frozen extremities.

I had no chance to react as a whisper of footsteps came from behind me, and a hand was flung over my mouth.

I was jerked up to a muscled, broad chest.

A voice hissed in my ear. ‘Stay the fuck where you are, and don't say a word. Clear?'

I nodded in assent, locking my limbs, as the hand lifted away and the presence beside me ghosted towards the study door.

I slid along the wall into a crouch, thighs trembling, heart racing, as the shadowy figure glided, advancing on the source of the commotion.

The dim light under the den door cast an eerie glow on their form, making them appear more spectre-like than human.

I held my breath, trying to quiet the thunderous pounding in my ears.

Silence enveloped the mansion for a moment, broken only by the faint sound of my ragged breathing.

The stranger kicked in the door with unbelievable strength, and it crashed open. I spotted the outline of his tall, imposing body and that of a gun, just as the silencer attached to it spat.

The gunfire, although dampened, was enough to keel me over. I dropped to my knees, hands over my head, imagining and waiting for the worst.

My fists were clenched, nails digging into my palms. I stuffed them over my mouth to keep quiet like I'd been commanded.

The crashing noises continued from the study, punctuated by the occasional muffled sound and terse whispers. I strained to understand what was happening, my mind racing with a thousand possibilities.

Silence fell.

The office door swung open once more with a resounding crash. Radiance spilled into the hallway, casting long shadows on the walls that danced with ominous promise.

I lifted my hand's palms in surrender in front of my face as a figure emerged from the den, silhouetted against the harsh light.

It was a man, tall and imposing.

‘Who the fuck are you?' he demanded in a deep, angered drawl that brooked no argument, his tone laced with authority.

I stammered, trying to form a coherent response.

Before I had the chance to utter a word, he stepped forward, nabbed my upper arm and dragged me into the den, into the brightness glowing from the lamps inside.

I walked into a nightmare.

On the floor, the same one I'd hoovered and polished hours earlier, was a man, prone, dead by first indication, further evidenced by the pool of blood under him.

On the couch slumped a second man, heaving, hands clutching his thigh, which was also bleeding. My eyes widened as I recognised him.

It was the burly bodyguard who'd returned my necklace.

Heart pounding, I glanced up at the man gripping my arm, and my heart lurched.

Standing over me, gazing down at me with almost identical incredulity, was the man who'd haunted my days and nights for weeks.

Lorenzo.

‘Mia?'

I must have uttered his name at the same time he said mine.

We both jolted in visible reaction.

Lorenzo's eyes, those piercing dark blue orbs that had tormented my dreams, narrowed. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?'

Blazing heat rose in my face, the shame of being caught by him invading my senses.

‘I'm the cleaner. I was here earlier in the day. I'm not supposed to be here now, but I left some of my gear,' I stammered, words tripping over each other, my voice shaking. ‘I had to come back for it. I didn't mean to interrupt.'

Lorenzo's eyes hardened, his expression betraying his lack of belief. ‘So supplies that might have waited to tomorrow to retrieve warranted you breaking into my new house when, as luck would have it, an assassin been sent after me? Cazzo, fuck me.'

My mind whirled, thinking how messed up it was.

I froze when a movement caught my eye, the shift of dark booted feet under the drapery edge in the corner of the study.

The curtain rustled, and my eyes flew up along its border to glimpse a snub-nosed revolver aimed straight at us.

Without a thought, I grabbed Lorenzo's Sig Sauer from him.

The unsuspecting man's grip was loose, so the weapon slid from his hands into mine as I turned.

Time slowed, my perspective narrowed, and my focus tightened as I fired seconds before the hidden assailant did the same.

My shot knocked his gun down and must have ricocheted into his flesh with a thud, followed by a grunt.

Almost at the exact time, a spit bullet from their firearm whizzed past Lorenzo's temple and hit the far wall.

The entire curtain ripped as the assailant's body fell forward.

Blood roared in my ears, I gasped, and Lorenzo cursed.

Mauri, although injured, launched from the couch.

Lorenzo stepped before me, acting as a shield, while Mauri lurched towards the second fallen assassin and fell on him, pinning him down.

Ragged, harsh breaths filled the air as we all took stock.

Lorenzo's dark blue eyes dilated, chest heaving as he canted around to stare at me for a long, drawn moment.

‘The fuck?'

‘There were two of them,' I murmured, stating the obvious.

His eyes swung to the wall where the bullet meant for his head had sunk in.

‘You don't say?' he muttered. ‘May I have my weapon, please?'

I swivelled to face him, heart pounding, limbs trembling, hands still raised with the gun clutched tight.

My inadvertent movement caused the barrel to face him.

‘Do you intend to use it on me?' he murmured, arching a brow. ‘Fai del tuo meglio. Take the best crack of your life.'

The words penetrated my stupor, and I let go of the weapon so fast that he had to rush to scoop it up with a curse before it hit the floor.

Not knowing what to do with my hands, I stuffed them into my pockets.

He turned to me, eyes glittering. ‘You're quite the shot.'

I slow-blinked and took a long inhale before responding. ‘My father taught me.'

I kept my statement spare, not wanting to say more.

Lorenzo's eyes swept over me, blazing with unspoken emotion for a second before settling into a cold, icy glare.

Still, he managed to ask, ‘You OK?'

I raised a brow. ‘Are you ?'

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Am I? To put it mildly, I'm embracing my inner unicorn and spreading glitter everywhere I go. As for your stunt with the gun, I guess we'll unpack that later.'

We clashed gazes, and I sensed a deep sentiment in him, edged by a sadness that floored me.

When my eyes softened, he sliced his eyes from mine with a suck of his teeth.

He turned his attention to the injured assailant on the ground.

Mauri had strung them up using curtain ropes, stuffing a torn-off piece of drapery into the stranger's mouth.

‘He's out,' the burly bodyguard declared. ‘I choked him. No ID, no wallet.'

He limped back to the couch and fell into it with a heavy thump.

Lorenzo gestured at his man with the weapon still in his hand. ‘Mauri needs help. Can you bandage a bleed? It's a flesh wound.'

I stared at him for a beat, tossing my life choices before nodding.

He was back to emitting the full force of his cold, calculating aura, making it clear he'd take nothing but yes for an answer.

‘I think I spotted a first aid kit in a cupboard somewhere,' I whispered.

‘Fetch it while I conduct a perimeter check, then decide what we will do about our unexpected guests.'

His eyes sliced to the fallen man sprawled in a macabre fashion on the polished marble floor and to his unconscious comrade.

I jerked my chin and made off to the utility closet, my heart rate off the charts.

Hands shaking, I rummaged through the supplies I'd arranged earlier in the day and extracted the first aid kit.

I braced myself against a shelf and closed my eyes for a second. ‘Woman, get your shit together,' I told myself, sucking in deep breaths.

Returning to the study, I discovered Lorenzo bent over the dead man, rummaging through his pockets.

‘I found it,' I murmured.

‘Use it,' he grated, his mouth thin in a slash, and his eyes narrowed and focused.

Shuddering from the adrenaline still ratcheting through me, I got busy tending to Mauri's laceration while his boss ghosted out of the room.

As I cleaned the wound, the bodyguard gritted his teeth, wincing at the pain without uttering a sound.

Lorenzo reappeared from his check of the house. ‘All clear,' he announced to no one in particular.

He turned his gaze to us with an unreadable expression, flicking between Mauri and me as I worked on the wounded man.

Once I had bandaged Mauri's thigh and handed him a painkiller and glass of water, Lorenzo jerked his head at me.

‘Who got you on this gig?'

‘Bianca's lawyer, Mr Jones.'

He and Mauri exchanged glances.

‘He organised my house purchase, too,' Lorenzo snarled. ‘I suspect a leak somewhere on his side, as no one was apprised I'd be in the house tonight except for his office.'

I stood to my feet, straightening my top. ‘Hey, I had no idea you owned this house. I'm sorry I disturbed you. I'll get out of your hair now. I'll nab my gear and head out if that's OK.'

I made to turn and walk away but came to an abrupt stop as his arms snaked around my waist and dragged me to him.

I found myself banded to his side as he snarled into my ear. ‘The fuck? It's not OK. Woman, you are going nowhere.'

He tilted his head as if having a sudden thought. ‘Will anyone miss you? A boyfriend, perhaps?'

I shook my head in vigorous denial. ‘No, I don't have one.'

His eyes narrowed and darkened as if weighing the truth of my words.

He took his sweet time assessing me before releasing an exasperated breath. ‘Bene. First, you're helping me clean up after moving both bodies. Mauri, who can we trust in Sydney?'

The wounded man grimaced. ‘I've got a few contacts, ex-military and live-on-the-edge types who don't ask questions and who'd be happy to help. It'll be a favour they might want returned down the line. They can clear the bodies, cremate them, or put them back on ship to Italy because I'll wager the assassins have no paperwork and slipped into the country illegally.'

‘I trade in favours,' Lorenzo snarled. ‘So call your mates.'

Mauri rummaged for a phone, his pain appearing like it'd subsided.

In the interim, with Lorenzo's steel-like arm around me, helpless and immobilised, I panicked, the words ‘ not going anywhere ' swirling in my mind.

I opened my mouth to clarify. ‘What did you mean when you said I'm not going anywhere?'

Lorenzo glanced down at me, eyebrow raised. ‘You're here to stay. Do you think you can stroll away after walking into a house with a hit on it? What if they've eyes on us on the street? If they've sent two, they'll send a third and a fourth. They'll come after you, bella, and black as my heart is, I can't let that happen.'

He grated the words, his voice dipping to a dangerous timbre, his mouth curled in a sneer when he snarled the endearment.

I trembled, unsure whether his ire was directed at the situation or me.

The latter was more likely, given the disdain in his eyes when he raked them over me.

When we'd parted at the wake, I'd seen a softness in him far removed from the distaste now flashing in his eyes. The vibe he was giving out now was reserved for a crime of the heart, a betrayal that cut deep.

The problem was I had yet to learn what I had done except slip back into his house for my provisions, which, in most books, was a misdemeanour.

Still, Lorenzo's words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. A chill ran down my spine as the reality of the situation sank in.

As Mauri called his contacts, a sense of dread crept over me.

I was trapped, all because of a misplaced set of cleaning supplies.

Once Mauri finished speaking on the phone, he turned to Lorenzo. ‘They're on their way,' he announced, his voice strained with pain.

Lorenzo nodded, his expression unreadable as he twisted to me. ‘You, listen closely,' he rasped, his tone brooking no argument. ‘I'll move the body to the garage. After I do, please clean up. We need to rid the study of this mess before the cavalry shows up. I don't think their service includes a cleaner.'

I glanced down at his arm, still around me. ‘If you want me to help, you must let me go.'

He blinked, realising I was still in his clasp.

He sucked his teeth and released me, our eyes locked in a heated battle of wills.