Chapter 6 - WHISPERS IN THE DARK
The following week was a blur of quiet healing. The Rossi compound was fortified with twice the guards, turning the mansion into an impenetrable stronghold. Dominic’s recovery was rapid, fueled by a terrifying, cold rage directed at his brother. But inside the bedroom, the war felt a million miles away.
He was a demanding patient, but the violent outbursts were gone. Instead, we fell into a strange, intimate rhythm. I learned that he drank his coffee black, that he read ancient Roman history to fall asleep, and that the empire he ruled was something he had inherited, not chosen.
One night, while I was checking his vitals, he caught my hand. His thumb traced the calluses on my palm.
"Why do you work yourself to the bone, Nora?" he asked softly, the moonlight casting harsh shadows across his sharp jawline.
"I told you. The eviction notice."
"No," he said, pulling me slightly closer. "You're a survivor. You fight for people who don't deserve it. You fought for me. Why?"
I swallowed hard, looking down at our intertwined hands. "Because everyone deserves someone who won't walk away when things get ugly."
Dominic’s eyes softened, an expression I suspected few people had ever seen on the ruthless boss. He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray curl behind my ear. "I'm a dangerous man to stand beside, Nora."
May you like
"I’m not easily scared," I whispered.
He pulled me down, and when his lips met mine, it wasn't the harsh, demanding kiss of a mafia boss. It was a desperate, burning promise. In that dark room, surrounded by the scent of antiseptic and rain, I knew I was crossing a line I could never walk back from.
