Chapter 2: The Man With His Hand on Her Shoulder
Julian didn't move.
He couldn't.
"Elena.
Look at me."
She kept her eyes down, fingers locked around the cart handle.
"Mr.
Rossi, I don't want any trouble."
*Mr.
Rossi.* Eight months ago she had whispered his name against his shoulder in the dark.
Now she spoke it like he was a stranger checking in for the weekend.
"You don't want trouble?" His voice dropped to something raw.
"You vanished.
No note.
No call.
Nothing.
And now you're standing here — like this — and you want me to walk away?"
Camila stepped between them, her voice sharp and low.
"Julian.
She is staff.
Let it go."
"Stay out of this, Camila."
Elena finally looked up.
And what Julian saw in her eyes wasn't the coldness he expected.
It was fear.
Pure, quiet, desperate fear.
"Please," she whispered.
"Not here.
Not tonight."
"Then tell me when." He stepped closer.
"Because that child—"
"Is none of your concern." The words came out fast.
Too fast.
Julian went still.
Behind Elena, the service corridor door swung open.
A man in a hotel manager's blazer strode toward them, his expression tight with purpose.
He placed a firm hand on Elena's shoulder before Julian could speak again.
"I'll handle this, Elena." He looked directly at Julian.
"Mr.
Rossi.
I think there's been a misunderstanding."
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Julian stared at the man's hand on his wife's shoulder.
He knew that face.
