Chapter 7 - The Price of Loyalty
The next forty-eight hours passed in a storm of blood, steel, and ruthless clean-up.
While Leo—recovering from his concussion—managed the removal of Marco’s body and secured the mansion’s perimeter, I spent the night in Dominic’s bedroom once again, stitching his arm and tending to his reopened shoulder wounds.
Dominic refused to rest.
Sitting up in his bed, half-wrapped in bandages, he issued orders to his captains. With Marco exposed as the traitor, the Rossi family moved with lethal precision. Within thirty-six hours, Don Moretti’s primary warehouses at the harbor were burned to the ground, his financial assets seized, and Moretti himself fled the state under the dark of night, his empire completely dismantled.
By Sunday morning, Dominic Rossi was no longer just the wounded boss of a local syndicate. He was the undisputed Don of the entire city.
I sat in the kitchen downstairs, drinking a mug of fresh coffee, staring out at the rain-soaked gardens. The mansion was quiet now. The threat was gone. The war was over.
And my contract was finished.
Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned to see Leo walking into the kitchen, holding a thick manila envelope.
“Morning, Nora,” Leo said softly, setting the envelope on the kitchen island.
I looked at the envelope. “What’s this?”
“Your final payment,” Leo said. “Fifty thousand dollars in cash. Plus a deed to a two-bedroom brownstone in Brooklyn, fully paid off in your name.”
My breath caught in my throat. “I... I can't accept a house, Leo.”
“It’s not from me,” Leo replied, a faint, respectful smile touching his lips. “It’s from Dominic. He said you earned your independence.”
I stared at the thick envelope, a strange, hollow ache opening up in my chest. This was everything I had wanted three weeks ago. My rent was paid, my bank account was full, my future was completely secured. I was free to leave the dark, violent world of the Rossi family and return to my normal, quiet life.
So why did I feel like my heart was breaking?
I picked up the envelope, walked upstairs, and pushed open the doors to the master suite.
Dominic was standing by the large windows, fully dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, looking out at the estate grounds. His shoulder was still bound beneath his jacket, but his posture was regal, powerful, and complete.
He turned as I entered.
“Leo gave you the papers?” Dominic asked, his voice neutral, unreadable.
“He did,” I said, walking across the room, stopping three feet from him. “Dominic... this is too much. The cash is more than enough.”
“It’s not enough for saving my life twice,” Dominic said quietly, stepping closer to me. “You’re free, Nora. You can go back to your hospital. You can buy your apartment. You can live in the light, far away from men like me.”
I looked up at his handsome, scarred face—the dark eyes that had terrified me a week ago, the firm jawline, the mouth that had kissed me with such ferocious passion on the stairs.
“What if I don't want to live in the light?” I whispered.
Dominic froze. His dark eyes flared with sudden, intense emotion. “Nora... don't say that. You don't belong in this world. It’s filthy. It’s violent.”
“I’ve seen the 'clean' world, Dominic,” I said, stepping right up to him, setting the heavy envelope on the table beside us. “I’ve seen hospitals fire nurses to save a dime. I’ve seen landlords throw women onto the street in the snow. The world out there isn't clean... it’s just better at hiding its scars.”
I reached up, placing my hand over his chest, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart beneath his suit jacket.
“In this house, with you,” I murmured, looking directly into his eyes, “I knew exactly where I stood. And I’ve never felt safer in my life.”
Dominic let out a low, ragged breath. He reached out, his long arms wrapping tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against his body, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
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“If you stay, Nora,” Dominic rasped into my skin, his grip so tight I could barely breathe, “I will never let you go. Do you understand me? You will be mine. My woman, my wife, my Don.”
“Good,” I whispered, sliding my arms up around his neck, pulling his lips down to mine. “Because I’m not leaving.”
