Chapter 7 - The Hostage in Silk
Dominic did not take Claire back to her humble one-bedroom apartment in Logan Square.
He brought her to the Moretti family estate in Lake Forest—a gated, limestone fortress surrounded by forty acres of dense oak forest, monitored by high-definition perimeter cameras and private armed guards.
For forty-eight hours, Claire was treated like a wounded queen.
Rosa Moretti practically moved into Claire’s guest wing, supervising the application of arnica cream to her bruises, feeding her homemade chicken broth rich with rosemary, and screaming in rapid-fire Sicilian at any guard who made too much noise in the corridor.
On the third evening, Claire woke from a deep, dreamless sleep. The bruising on her face had faded to pale yellow, and the soreness in her muscles had subsided into a dull ache. She found a silk robe laid out across the foot of the king-sized bed—heavy, midnight-blue silk that felt cool against her skin.
She tied the belt snugly around her waist, slipped her bare feet onto the warm hardwood floor, and walked out onto the stone terrace that overlooked the estate’s illuminated rose gardens.
Dominic was sitting on a stone bench below, a glass of amber scotch resting untouched on the balustrade. He was staring up at the night sky, his broad shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the entire city.
Claire walked down the curved stone staircase. Her footsteps were nearly silent, but Dominic turned immediately, his instincts razor-sharp.
When he saw her standing in the moonlight, draped in blue silk with her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, his breath caught audibly in his throat. He stood up, setting his glass aside.
“You shouldn't be out in the cold,” Dominic said gently, walking toward her.
“It isn't cold,” Claire replied, meeting him halfway near the stone fountain. “And I’ve had enough bed rest to last a lifetime. I’m an event planner, Dominic. Sitting still makes me nervous.”
Dominic reached out, his knuckles brushing lightly against the fading bruise on her cheekbone. The touch was agonizingly tender. “Every time I look at your face, I remember that I put you in that warehouse. You walked into Suite 1460 looking for an honest corporate job, and I dragged you into a cesspool.”
Claire looked up into his tormented eyes. “You didn't drag me anywhere, Dominic. I chose to stay. I chose to take the check, I chose to audit your books, and I chose to go to that gala with you.”
“You could have died, Claire.” His voice was raw, stripped of all corporate composure. “Do you understand that? When Marco told me they had you, something inside my chest stopped working. I’ve run this organization for fifteen years. I’ve faced feds, rival syndicates, corrupt mayors, and prison sentences without flinching. But the thought of Chicago without you in it... it terrified me.”
Claire’s breath hitched. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them until her chest brushed against his shirt.
“Why does it terrify you, Dominic?” she whispered.
Dominic’s hands came up, cupping her face with fierce reverence. “Because I love you, Claire. I loved you from the second you walked into my office dripping rainwater, telling me how you saved a wedding cake while my men were trying to figure out if you were an assassin. I love your mind, I love your fire, and I love every single inch of this magnificent body that you spent years letting fools apologize for.”
Claire’s heart soared, bursting through every defensive wall she had erected around herself over thirty years of rejection.
“Then stop talking,” Claire murmured, tilting her chin up. “And kiss me like you mean it.”
May you like
Dominic pulled her against him with a low groan.
His mouth came down on hers—not with hesitation, but with a fierce, intoxicating passion that drove all thoughts of danger, boardrooms, and underworld rivalries straight out of her mind. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her full, soft curves tight against the hard planes of his chest. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking into his warmth, knowing with absolute certainty that she was never going back to her old life. She was where she belonged.
