Chapter 4 - The Midnight Shift
Two weeks later, the war outside the gates escalated.
Donato’s syndicate launched three separate cyber-attacks against the Pascale logistics network, shutting down the electronic manifests at the Boston shipping terminals. The atmosphere inside the estate grew thick with paranoia. Extra guards were posted along the stone walls, floodlights swept the lawns every ten minutes, and Marco slept with an assault rifle resting beside his desk in the security office.
Through it all, Massimo’s focus remained split between protecting his empire and reclaiming his body.
It was 1:30 AM on a rainy Tuesday night.
I couldn't sleep. I was staying in a small, luxurious guest suite in the West Wing of the mansion—a precaution Marco had insisted upon as the security threats escalated.
The sound of rain heavy against the window glass was lulling, but my mind was churning with case studies and muscle-reeducation protocols. I pulled on a soft gray cardigan over my white tank top and sweatpants, deciding to head down to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk.
As I padded softly down the dim, carpeted hallway of the main floor, I noticed a yellow streak of light spilling out from beneath the door of the private gym.
I paused.
The gym was a state-of-the-art facility Massimo had constructed three weeks ago upon my recommendation, equipped with parallel bars, medical harness systems, and custom hydrotherapy pools.
I pushed the heavy oak door open an inch, peaking inside.
The room was dimly lit by a single overhead spotlight.
Massimo was there.
He wasn't in his wheelchair. He was standing between the wooden parallel bars, his massive arms propping his body up, his veins bulging under his dark skin as he attempted to walk without his leg braces.
Sweat soaked his hair, dripping onto his chest. His legs were shaking violently under the burden of his weight, his knee buckling every time he attempted to slide his left foot forward.
"Come on..." Massimo growled through gritted teeth, his face contorted in sheer agony. "Move... damn you... MOVE!"
He forced his left foot forward two inches. But his ankle gave way.
His grip slipped off the parallel bars!
"Massimo!" I cried out, throwing the door open and sprinting across the rubber floor!
I threw my body beneath him just as he collapsed forward!
The impact knocked the air from my lungs as we tumbled down together onto the thick blue crash pads beneath the bars. Massimo’s massive, heavy frame landed partially over mine, his arm wrapping instinctively around my waist to shield me from the hard floor.
For several seconds, the only sound in the gym was our heavy, ragged breathing.
The smell of rain, cedar, and his warm skin enveloped me. His broad chest rose and fell against mine, his gray eyes inches from my face, dark and wide with shock.
"Tessa..." he gasped, his voice raspy. "Are you hurt? Did I crush you?"
"I'm fine," I breathed out, my hands resting against his broad, muscular shoulders. "I'm okay. Are you?"
Massimo didn't answer. He lay there over me, his gaze dropping to my lips before lifting back to my eyes. The proximity was overwhelming. I could feel every line of his hard body, the racing thump of his heart against my ribs, the desperate, lonely warmth radiating from his soul.
Then, a bitter shadow swept across his face.
He pulled himself back, rolling off me onto his side, resting his head against his arm on the mat. He stared up at the ceiling, letting out a long, ragged breath of pure humiliation.
"I can't even stand for thirty seconds without falling on you like a dead tree," he rasped, his voice thick with self-hatred.
"You were trying to walk without your braces, at one in the morning, after five hours of meetings," I said, sitting up and pulling my cardigan around my shoulders. "You're not a machine, Massimo."
"I have to be!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the gym mirrors. He turned his head to glare at me, eyes filled with furious tears he refused to let fall. "Donato is taking my territory block by block! My men are looking at me like I'm a ghost waiting to be buried! If I cannot walk into the Commission meeting in three weeks, they will vote to strip the Pascale family of its charter!"
The truth was finally out.
The Commission meeting. The ultimate council of the five families that governed the city’s underground logistics. If Massimo didn't appear in person—standing on his own two feet—they would declare him incapacitated and divide his empire among his rivals.
I walked over on my knees, reaching down to take his massive, trembling hand in both of mine.
He tried to pull away, but I held on tight, refusing to let go.
"Look at me, Massimo," I commanded, my voice soft but fierce.
He slowly turned his head, his gray eyes locking onto mine.
"You are going to walk into that meeting," I promised him, my thumb gently tracing the back of his knuckles. "Not because you're a machine. But because you have worked harder than any man I have ever met. But you cannot do it by hurting yourself in the dark at one in the morning."
Massimo stared at our joined hands. His fingers slowly unclenched, wrapping around mine, holding my hand with a gentle, protective warmth that belied his terrifying reputation.
"Why do you care so much, Tessa?" he asked softly, looking up into my eyes with a vulnerability that broke my heart. "I paid you to do a job. I am a criminal. A dangerous man. Why do you look at me like I am worth saving?"
I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"Because when I look at you, I don't see a criminal, Massimo," I whispered, leaning closer to him in the dim light. "I see a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, who has never had anyone protect him. I care because... because you matter to me."
Massimo’s breath hitched in his chest.
He raised his hand, his long, warm fingers gently cupping the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. The touch was so tender, so full of unspoken emotion, that tears pricked the backs of my eyes.
"Tessa..." he breathed, his face tilting closer to mine.
For a second, time stopped. The rain outside vanished. The danger, the mafia war, the missing tuition money—everything melted away into the space between our lips.
Then, the loud, jarring chime of Marco’s walkie-talkie echoed down the hallway!
Massimo’s fingers lingered against my skin for one more agonizing second before he pulled his hand back, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Marco," Massimo called out, his voice instantly returning to its steady, commanding tone.
The gym door opened, and Marco stepped inside, holding a tablet. "Boss, the preliminary security report for the Commission meeting venue just came in."
Marco stopped, his eyes darting between Massimo lying on the mat and me kneeling beside him, my hair slightly messy and my face flushed red.
"Am I interrupting something?" Marco asked carefully.
"No," I said quickly, standing up and brushing off my knees. "Mr. Pascale was just finishing his late-night motivation session. He’s going to bed now."
Massimo looked up at me, a tiny, wicked smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Am I, therapist?"
"Yes," I said sternly, crossing my arms. "Or I will double your leg-extension sets tomorrow morning."
May you like
Massimo let out a soft laugh, reaching up for Marco’s hand to help him into his chair. "Goodnight, Tessa."
"Goodnight, Massimo," I whispered, stepping out into the quiet hallway, my heart pounding so loudly against my ribs I was certain the entire house could hear it.
