Six nurses had quit in five days before I walked into Dominic Rossi’s bedroom and found blood soaking through Egyptian cotton sheets. Everyone warned me the wounded mafia boss was determined to bleed himself to death, but with rent due Monday and almost nothing left in my bank account, fear had become a luxury I could no longer afford.

By 6:00 AM, the rain had settled into a steady gray drizzle over the estate.

I hadn't slept a wink. I had spent the night swapping out IV bags, checking Dominic’s pulse, and placing cool, damp towels over his forehead to pull down the fever. By dawn, his temperature had dropped to a manageable 99.8 degrees, and the gray, deadly pallor on his skin had been replaced by a faint, healthy flush.

I was sitting in the corner armchair, sipping a mug of lukewarm coffee Leo had brought me two hours ago, when the heavy oak doors opened.

Dominic was awake.

He was propped up against the pillows, looking remarkably alive for a man who had been at death’s door twelve hours earlier. The dark stubble along his jawline only emphasized the sharp, predatory cut of his features. Though his shoulder was tightly bound, his posture radiated a dangerous, quiet authority.

Beside his bed stood Leo, holding a leather folder, looking at me with an expression that bordered on stunned disbelief.

“She stayed the night,” Leo said softly, as if confirming a miracle. “And your fever broke.”

Dominic didn't look at Leo. His eyes were fixed entirely on me.

“She’s stubborn,” Dominic said, his voice deeper and clearer than it had been the night before. “Who hired her, Leo?”

“Frankie arranged it through an agency in the city,” Leo replied. “Clean background. Emergency room nurse until three months ago. No ties to the Moretti family, no connections to the docks.”

“Check her again,” Dominic ordered flatly. “Check her bank accounts, her family, her ex-boyfriends. If she has a cousin who once bought a sandwich in Brooklyn, I want to know about it.”

I set my mug down on the side table with a sharp clack.

“If you’re quite done discussing me like an invasive pest, Mr. Rossi,” I said, standing up and smoothing down my scrubs, “I’d like to check your dressing.”

Leo stiffened, his hand reflexively moving toward his jacket lining, expecting Dominic to snap.

Instead, Dominic merely tracked me with those piercing dark eyes as I walked across the room. “You have a mouth on you, Nurse Hayes.”

“I have a job to do,” I corrected, gently reaching for his bandage. “And as long as your money is paying my rent, I intend to do it properly.”

I carefully peeled back the edge of the tape. The skin around the wound was significantly less inflamed, the infection draining properly through the tube into the collection bag.

Dominic didn't flinch as my fingers brushed his warm skin, though I felt the muscle in his chest tighten beneath my palm. Up close, I couldn't help but notice the faint silver scars crisscrossing his ribcage—older wounds from a life spent in the dark, violent underbelly of the city.

“It’s healing,” I said, taped the bandage back down. “Keep taking the antibiotics, and you might actually live to threaten more medical staff.”

Before Dominic could respond, the double doors were pushed open without a knock.

A tall man in his late thirties stepped into the bedroom. He wore an expensive charcoal suit, his dark hair slicked back, a gold ring glittering on his pinky finger. His face carried a superficial resemblance to Dominic, but where Dominic’s eyes were steady and cold, this man’s were restless and sharp.

Marco Rossi—Dominic’s cousin and second-in-command.

“Dominic!” Marco declared, spreading his arms with exaggerated relief as he marched into the room. “Look at you! Up and breathing. We heard down at the club that you were delirious last night.”

Marco’s eyes flicked over to me, scanning my blood-stained scrubs and the IV stand beside the bed, before settling back on Dominic.

“The house has been quiet,” Marco continued, leaning against the foot of the bed. “A little too quiet. The captains are getting anxious, Dominic. Don Moretti is claiming you’re incapacitated after the meeting at the docks. He’s already pushing into our northern territory.”

Dominic’s expression didn't change, but the air in the room instantly grew cold enough to freeze blood.

“Let Moretti push,” Dominic said softly. His voice held a quiet, terrifying calm that made even Marco pause. “Let him take two blocks. Let him think the seat is empty.”

“Dominic, we need to show force—”

“We show force when I say we show force, Marco,” Dominic snapped, his gaze locking onto his cousin. “Not when you get nervous.”

Marco’s smile thinned into a razor-sharp line. His eyes darted back to me, lingering on my face for a second too long. “And who is this? Another one of Leo’s stray nurses?”

“She’s my primary nurse,” Dominic said, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “And she was just leaving to let me rest.”

“Actually,” I interjected, stepping between Marco and the bed, “Mr. Rossi needs absolute quiet for the next four hours. Excessive stress increases blood pressure and reopens clotting vessels. Visitor hours are over.”

Marco stared at me in absolute shock. A street boss in a three-thousand-dollar suit, dismissed by a nurse in stained scrubs.

Leo quickly stepped forward. “This way, Marco. Let’s leave him to rest.”

Marco sneered, adjusting his coat jacket, but backed away toward the door. “Get well soon, cousin,” he said, his eyes dark with something poisonous before he vanished down the hallway.

When the doors clicked shut, silence returned to the room.

I turned back to Dominic, expecting another threat for speaking out of line.

Dominic was leaning back against his pillows, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“You just talked down Marco Rossi,” Dominic murmured. “A man who has buried three people this year for looking at him wrong.”

“I’ve handled intoxicated trauma patients in the ER at 3:00 AM, Mr. Rossi,” I said, picking up my medical tray. “Your cousin doesn't scare me.”

Dominic reached out, his long fingers catching the hem of my scrub top, pulling me a few inches closer to the edge of his bed.

“He should,” Dominic whispered, his dark eyes locking onto mine with intense focus. “Because Marco is a viper. But more importantly, Nora... you should be scared of me.”

I looked down at his hand on my shirt, then up into his dark, dangerous face. My heart hammered against my ribs, but not from fear.