Chapter 3 - The Truth Unmasked
""How long?"" Dominic whispered, closing the distance between them until he was kneeling on the carpet directly in front of her.
He, who had never knelt before any living man, settled on both knees before his wife. He looked up at her, his dark eyes brimming with unshed tears that threatened to shatter his hardened composure completely.
""How long were you going to let me believe that you despised my touch?"" he asked, his voice cracking. ""How long were you going to endure me crushing that wound every time I wanted to play the protective husband for the cameras?""
Claire pulled the sweater tightly against her chest, her fingers clutching the fabric until her knuckles were white. She looked away, tears spilling over her lashes and running down her soft cheeks.
""You didn't know,"" she whispered. ""You weren't supposed to know. Dominic, if you found out, you would have spent the rest of your life treating me like an obligation instead of a partner. You would have looked at me with pity.""
""Pity?"" Dominic echoed, reaching out with excruciating gentleness, barely letting his fingertips brush the side of her tear-stained cheek. She didn't flinch. For the first time in two years, she leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as a shudder ran through her frame. ""Claire... I have spent two years hating myself because I thought the mere sight of me made your skin crawl. I thought my past was so vile that you couldn't stomach my hand on your waist. Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you recoil last night and think, She looks at me and sees a monster?""
""You are not a monster,"" Claire cried, her voice breaking through the silence of the room. ""You never were! My father was the monster! He gambled away our lives, he took money from men who chopped fingers off for late payments, and when he was drowning, he wanted to use me to spy on your shipping manifests! That night on Pier Twelve... he sent me down there to steal a ledger from your car while you were meeting the union reps!""
Dominic’s jaw tightened, a dark, dangerous spark flashing in his eyes. ""Martin sent you?""
""Yes,"" Claire sobbed. ""He told me if I didn't get that ledger, those loan sharks were going to burn our house down with my mother's keepsakes inside. But when I reached the dock, I didn't look for the ledger. I saw you standing under the crane lights. You looked so tired, Dominic. So completely alone. And then I saw the laser sight moving along the containers, heading straight for your head.""
She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.
""I didn't think about my father. I didn't think about the debt. I just knew that the world was better with you in it than the animals trying to take over the waterfront. I ran. I threw myself into your path. But you moved slightly to step around a puddle, and the shot hit me instead of passing through.""
Dominic felt his throat close up. He remembered that night with terrifying clarity. He had heard a dull thud behind a stack of rusted pallets, followed by the sound of scuffling feet, but his security detail had tackled him to the dirt immediately, shielding him from further fire. By the time they cleared the pier, the shooter was gone, and there had been only a smear of rainwater on the concrete.
""Why didn't you let Marcus take you to a real hospital?"" Dominic asked, his hands moving to cup both sides of her face, forcing her to look at him. ""Why didn't you tell me the next day? Why did you marry me under the guise of an arranged transaction?""
""Because you offered me a way out!"" Claire wept. ""A month later, when my father died of that heart attack, you came to my door and offered to clear every single debt if I married you. You told me it was a business deal—that you needed an unsullied wife to make your transition into legitimate logistics look respectable. You were so cold, Dominic. So detached. You acted like you were buying a painting for your wall. If I had told you that I took a bullet for you, you wouldn't have married me out of respect or mutual need—you would have married me out of sheer, suffocating guilt! I didn't want your debt of honor, Dominic. I wanted...""
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She stopped, choking on her own words, terrified of saying the truth out loud.
""What did you want, Claire?"" Dominic asked, his thumb gently stroking her lower lip, his dark eyes searching hers with an intensity that burned through the shadows. ""Tell me.""
