Chapter 4 - The Fortress of Gladwyne
Dominic returned to the estate with a cold, terrifying purpose. The mafia boss who had spent fifteen years orchestrating street warfare and corporate buyouts redirected his entire machine toward a single objective: keeping Tessa Rourke alive.
He summoned his top lieutenants to the study. When the men walked in expecting hit orders on the rival Moretti syndicate, they found Dominic writing on a white legal pad beneath a list titled Sterilization Protocol.
""Effective immediately, this property is on full quarantine lockdown,"" Dominic commanded, his voice brooking no argument. ""The iron gates remain shut. No deliveries cross the threshold without being wiped down by staff wearing medical-grade nitrile gloves. Any soldier assigned to gate duty must provide a negative infectious disease panel every forty-eight hours. If anyone comes down with a cough, a sneeze, or a scratchy throat, they do not enter the zip code.""
""Boss,"" his underboss, Frankie, hesitated. ""The Morettis are pushing the northern shipping yards. They heard rumors about what happened at Victor’s barbecue. They think you've gone soft because of family trouble.""
Dominic looked up, his eyes black and dead as a frozen lake. ""Let them push. Tell them if a single crate is touched, I will burn their warehouses to ash. But until my wife finishes her cycles, my war room is her bedroom. If you distract me with minor territorial disputes, Frankie, I will replace you.""
Dominic stripped off his Italian wool suit, scrubbed his arms with surgical soap until his skin was raw, and changed into soft cotton clothes. He entered Tessa's bedroom carrying a silver tray with bone broth, crushed ice, and her prescription anti-nausea tablets.
Tessa was curled on her side, watching the oak branches sway outside the French balcony. Her head was wrapped in a soft cashmere beanie; she had taken off the wig she had secretly worn since April, revealing the wispy patches of dark hair that had survived the chemo. She flinched when she heard him enter, reflexively pulling the bedsheet over her scalp.
""Don't,"" Dominic murmured gently, setting the tray on the nightstand. He sat on the edge of the mattress and gently caught her hand, peeling it away from the covers. ""Never hide from me again, Tessa. Never.""
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""I look like a stranger,"" she whispered, her lip quivering. ""I’m losing everything, Nick. My hair, my strength... I can't even carry a laundry basket up the stairs.""
Dominic leaned down, pressing his lips against her bare, feverish temple. ""You are my wife. You carried this war on your back for five months to protect me. Now you lie here and let me carry you.""
