Chapter 2 - The Golden Cage
By nightfall, my life had completely transformed. Dominic hadn't just moved us into a guest room; he had moved us into the master wing of the estate. The bedroom was the size of my entire apartment, boasting floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan, a California king bed, and a walk-in closet that his men had already begun filling with expensive clothes for both of us.
I paced the Persian rug, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sophie was sitting on the plush velvet sofa, completely mesmerized by a massive flat-screen TV playing her favorite cartoons, surrounded by a mountain of new toys.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Dominic stepped inside. He had shed his suit jacket and tie, leaving his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the faint edge of the scar I had helped heal four years ago. He carried a silver tray with hot cocoa and a plate of warm cookies.
"I don't want your money, Dominic," I said, crossing my arms defensively. "And I don't want to be your prisoner."
He set the tray on the coffee table and sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You aren't a prisoner, Claire. You are my family. The only family I have."
"You abandoned us!" I yelled, the pain of the past three years finally bubbling to the surface. "You left in the middle of the night! You broke my heart!"
Dominic closed the distance between us, grabbing my shoulders with a gentle but firm grip. "I left because the Russian syndicate found out where I was hiding! If I had stayed another hour, they would have burned your apartment to the ground with you and Elena inside! I left to protect you, Claire. Every single day for the last four years, I have thought about you. I thought you had moved on. I thought you were safe."
His eyes were shining with unshed tears. This ruthless mafia boss, a man who commanded an army, was breaking down in front of me.
"Papa?"
We both turned. Sophie was standing by the coffee table, holding a chocolate chip cookie. She looked at Dominic with those wide, innocent brown eyes. "Are you my papa?"
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A choked sob escaped Dominic’s throat. He fell to his knees again, exactly as he had in the hallway, and opened his arms. "Yes, sweetheart," he cried softly. "I'm your papa."
Sophie didn't hesitate. She ran into his arms, wrapping her tiny hands around his neck. Dominic buried his face in her shoulder, holding her so tightly, as if he were trying to merge her into his very soul. Watching this feared, dangerous man weep over the daughter he never knew he had... my defenses crumbled. I walked over and knelt beside them, and without a word, Dominic pulled me into the embrace, burying his face in my neck. For the first time in three years, I felt completely safe.
