Chapter 1 - The Cold Truth on Lake Shore Drive
“You watched my apartment?” Claire’s voice was a jagged whisper against the biting wind whipping off Lake Michigan. The heavy wool of Dominic’s coat draped around her shoulders suddenly felt like an iron cage rather than a shield against the cold. She wrapped her fingers around the lapels, wanting desperately to fling the garment straight back into his stoic, chiseled face, but the freezing October chill pinned her in place.
Dominic didn’t flinch. He never flinched. But his dark eyes flickered with a quiet desperation she had never witnessed during the quiet nights they had stolen in empty diners and windswept riverwalks. “I had two unmarked security units parked on opposite corners of your street every single hour of the day,” he said, his voice level, gravelly, and entirely stripped of arrogance. “Every shift you worked at Bell & Ash, there were two men sitting at the bar. When you went to the grocery store at midnight because you couldn’t sleep, my driver trailed fifty yards behind you. I wasn’t going to let them touch you, Claire. I couldn't.”
“You stalked me!” Claire cried out, heedless of the pedestrians glancing nervously at them as they hurried past the clinic’s concrete awning. “You broke my heart, threw me away like yesterday's trash, sent my sweater back in a cardboard box like an eviction notice, and all while you had snipers watching me brush my teeth?”
“It wasn't like that,” Dominic insisted, taking a single, cautious step forward. He kept his hands open, palms forward, as if approaching a wounded, cornered animal. For a man who controlled half the logistics, shipping, and underworld territory from Chicago to Milwaukee, the posture was humiliatingly submissive. “The mole inside my logistics ring was feeding intelligence to a syndicate running out of Detroit. They didn't just want to hurt my business, Claire. They wanted to decapitate my empire. The only way to keep their eyes off you was to make them believe you were completely disposable to me. If I called you, if I visited you, if I so much as sent flowers, they would have realized you were my soft spot. They would have snatched you from your bed to put a gun to my head.”
Claire stared at him, her chest heaving underneath his oversized coat. Her breath plumed white in the frosty air. Inside her handbag, the appointment folder felt heavy, burning through the canvas against her hip. “And what changed, Dominic? Did the bad guys suddenly take a vacation? Did you magically fix your bloody war in forty-eight hours?”
“I buried the threat,” Dominic answered coldly, the terrifying kingpin bleeding back into his eyes for a split second before softening again. “It took seven weeks of ruthless dismantling. The mole is currently sitting in a federal interrogation room singing his heart out to protect his own skin, and the Detroit outfit signed a non-aggression pact at four this morning. It’s over. You’re safe.”
“I was never part of your world!” Claire yelled, the tears finally breaking past her lashes. She hated crying in front of him. In the restaurant, she had always been the composed one, the steady presence offering black coffee and gentle listening while his brother’s ghost haunted his eyes. “I am a waitress trying to finish my degree. I have three hundred dollars in my bank account and a pile of past-due bills. I had a whole future planned, and then you stormed into my life, wrecked it, vanished, and now…”
She stopped herself, clamping her teeth together.
Dominic’s gaze drifted downward, homing in on her trembling hand resting instinctively against her lower abdomen. His throat visibly swallowed down a knot of raw emotion. “And now you’re carrying my child,” he said softly.
“I haven’t decided anything,” she shot back defensively, stepping back until her spine hit the brick pillar of the building. “I was in that clinic because I have no options, Dominic! I can't raise a baby alone in a roach-infested studio apartment on minimum wage and tips! I thought you hated me. I thought you used me to distract yourself from your grief and tossed me aside!”
“Claire, look at me,” Dominic commanded, though his tone was pleading, almost breaking under the strain. He closed the distance between them, disregarding her flinch, and reached out. His large, scarred fingers hovered inches from her cheek, waiting for permission. When she didn't slap his hand away, he gently cupped her cold jawline, his thumb wiping away a streak of salt and mascara. “Look at me and tell me you truly believe I could ever throw you away.”
Claire looked up into the deep, tormented brown of his eyes. She wanted to lie. She wanted to tell him that he was nothing more than a heartless monster who bought people and discarded them at will. But she remembered the night he wept into his hands over his brother Michael. She remembered how his touch had been reverent, almost terrified of breaking her, when they had finally given in to the fire between them.
“You terrified me,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
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“I know,” Dominic whispered back, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I swear on Michael’s soul, I will spend every breath I have left making it right. Just come with me. Don't make this choice out of fear or poverty. Let me take care of you. Both of you.”
Before Claire could answer, the sharp shriek of burning rubber echoed down the street. Dominic’s head snapped up instantly. Down the block, a black SUV mounted the curb, its tinted windows lowering as a metallic barrel caught the morning light. In a fraction of a second, Dominic’s protective aura transformed into feral violence. He grabbed Claire by the waist, threw her behind the concrete pillar, and shielded her body entirely with his own just as the first deafening gunshot shattered the glass doors behind them.
