Chapter 6 - Marked by the Don
By Wednesday night, the estate was locked down like a military compound. Armed men patrolled the perimeter with Belgian Malinois hounds, searchlights swept across the frozen grounds every ninety seconds, and the windows of the east wing were fitted with steel security shutters.
In the master suite—where Gabriel had insisted on moving me after the incident in the dining room—the fireplace burned brightly, casting long, dancing shadows across the high plaster ceiling.
Leo was fast asleep on a daybed near the hearth, clutching the small wooden train locomotive I had fixed for him weeks ago. His breathing was soft, rhythmic, and peaceful.
I sat at the edge of the bed, carefully changing the sterile dressing on my shoulder wound. Reaching behind my back was difficult, and every twist sent a dull throb through my lower ribs.
"Let me," a voice commanded softly from the doorway.
Gabriel walked in without his jacket, his cuffs rolled up, holding a fresh roll of medical tape and antiseptic. He closed the door behind him, stepping quietly so as not to wake his sleeping son.
I hesitated, pulling the fabric of my robe instinctively over my chest. "Mr. Rossi, you don't need to do this. I can call Mrs. Gable."
"Mrs. Gable is resting," Gabriel said, taking the gauze from my unresisting fingers. He sat beside me on the mattress, his weight dipping the bed. "And stop calling me Mr. Rossi. You own forty percent of my shipping routes, Tess. You are no longer my employee."
"Then what am I?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, hanging raw and vulnerable between us in the firelit room.
Gabriel didn't answer immediately. His hands were remarkably steady as he cleaned the pink, jagged edges of the bullet scar on my collarbone. His touch was warm, deliberate, devoid of hesitation. When the cool antiseptic stung, I hissed softly, and his fingers instantly paused, waiting until the pain subsided before gently pressing the clean bandage into place.
"You are the woman who gave my son his life back," he said, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made my pulse quicken. "And you are the only person who looked into this house of ghosts and saw a child worth dying for instead of an empire worth taking."
He moved to the wound at my lower rib cage. As his hand smoothed the medical tape against my skin, his fingers rested against the curve of my waist. He didn't pull away. His slate-gray eyes rose, locking onto mine with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thin and electric.
"When I knelt over you in the sunroom," Gabriel whispered, leaning closer, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to my eyes, "I realized something that terrified me."
"What?" My voice was barely a breath.
"I realized that for two years, I had watched you walk through my corridors," he confessed, his hand sliding slowly from my ribs to the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the soft line of my jaw. "I knew which days you hummed to yourself while polishing the brass. I knew how you took your tea with two spoons of honey in the kitchen after midnight. I told myself you were invisible because looking at you made me feel things a man in my position has no right to feel."
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. "Gabriel..."
"I thought I was dead inside after Elena died," he said, his fingers tangling gently in the hair at the nape of my neck. "I thought my only purpose left on this earth was to protect Leo and butcher my enemies. But when I saw your blood on my floor... I knew I couldn't survive losing you too."
He leaned in slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away.
I didn't move.
When his mouth met mine, it was not the violent, dominating kiss of a ruthless mafia don. It was reverent, hungry, and deeply desperate, as if he were a drowning man finally finding the surface. The heat of him enveloped me, chasing away the cold memory of gunfire and iron cages. For the first time in twenty-four years of loneliness, I felt entirely anchored, entirely protected, and profoundly wanted.
When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing was ragged.
"Tomorrow at the cathedral," he murmured against my lips, "it will be dangerous. Dante’s loyalists in the Moretti family will not surrender easily. You don't have to be there, Tess. You can stay here with Leo behind the steel doors."
I looked across the room at the little boy sleeping soundly by the fire, then looked back into Gabriel's slate-gray eyes.
"No," I said firmly, lifting my chin with the stubborn pride of the Moretti blood running through my veins. "Elena left that ring to me because she knew I wouldn't hide. If we are finishing this, we finish it together."
May you like
Gabriel stared at me for a long moment, a fierce, blazing pride lighting up his dark eyes. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of my forehead.
"Together," he promised.
