Chapter 4 - The Viper's Visit
Three days passed in a tense, quiet routine inside the Rossi estate.
Under my strict care, Dominic’s recovery progressed at a rate that baffled even Leo. The infection was completely eradicated, the drainage tube was removed, and the deep tear in his shoulder was knitting together into a thick, clean pink scar.
With his physical strength returning, the true nature of Dominic Rossi’s world began to bleed into the quiet sanctuary of the master suite.
Men in dark suits arrived at all hours of the night. Low, urgent hushed conversations took place behind closed doors. Maps of the city harbor were spread across his mahogany dining table, marked with red ink. The quiet, lemon-scented mansion felt less like a home and more like a war room waiting for a spark.
Through it all, I remained at his side. I changed his dressings, monitored his vitals, and forced him to swallow his medications despite his constant grumbling.
And slowly, subtly, the ice between us began to melt.
On Friday evening, the storm outside had returned, heavy rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his study. Dominic was sitting behind his heavy oak desk, dressed in a crisp black silk shirt with the top three buttons undone, reviewing financial ledgers.
I stepped into the room carrying a fresh mug of herbal tea—a blend I had forced Leo to buy to help lower Dominic’s lingering blood pressure.
“Drink it,” I said, setting the mug down on top of a stack of balance sheets.
Dominic didn't look up from his papers. “I hate tea.”
“And I hate men who refuse to take care of their bodies,” I replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “Drink it, or I’ll tell Leo to double your stool softener dosage.”
Dominic finally looked up, a dark glint of humor in his eyes. “You’re a sadist, Nora.”
“I’m a medical professional,” I corrected. “There’s a distinction.”
He picked up the mug, took a cautious sip, and grimaced, though he didn't put it down. He leaned back in his leather chair, watching me over the rim of the cup.
“Leo paid your landlord today,” Dominic said casually.
I paused, my hand hovering over my clipboard. “What?”
“Your rent,” Dominic said, setting the mug down. “Two thousand dollars. Plus another three months in advance.”
My stomach did a nervous flip. “I didn't ask you to pay three months in advance, Dominic.”
“Consider it a retainer,” he said softly, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. The amber light of the desk lamp caught the sharp angles of his face, illuminating the dark, intense focus in his eyes. “You’re good at what you do, Nora. You don't ask stupid questions, you don't scare easily, and you keep me alive.”
“I’m a nurse, Dominic,” I whispered, feeling the air between us grow suddenly thick and warm. “Not a bodyguard. Once your wound is fully closed next week, my contract is finished.”
Dominic didn't answer immediately. His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there for a long, heavy moment before rising back to my eyes.
“What if I don't want you to leave?” he asked softly.
Before I could process the sudden, electric tension humming in the room, the heavy double doors of the study flew open.
Leo rushed into the room, his face pale, his suit jacket unbuttoned.
“Dominic,” Leo said urgently. “Don Moretti is at the front gate. He brought six cars.”
Dominic’s posture instantly transformed. The quiet, contemplative man vanished, replaced in a split second by the cold, ruthless boss of the Rossi syndicate.
“Did he give a reason?” Dominic asked, his voice dead of all emotion.
“He claims he heard a rumor that you passed away from your injuries,” Leo said, his jaw tight. “He says he’s here to 'pay his respects' to your family.”
Dominic stood up from his desk slowly, smoothing the cuffs of his black shirt. He didn't look weak. He looked like an apex predator who had just been handed a reason to hunt.
“Let him in,” Dominic ordered. “Tell the guards at the gate to stand down. Bring him to the main parlor.”
“Dominic, your shoulder—” I started, stepping toward him.
Dominic turned to me, reaching out and gently taking my chin between his long fingers. His touch was warm, firm, and shockingly gentle compared to the danger radiating from his body.
“Stay in this room, Nora,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly across my lower lip. “No matter what you hear downstairs, do not come out.”
“Dominic—”
“Promise me,” he commanded softly, his dark eyes locking onto mine with absolute intensity.
May you like
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I promise.”
He let go of my chin, pulled a sleek black 9mm pistol from his desk drawer, slipped it into his shoulder holster, and walked out of the room without looking back.
