Chapter 4 - The Next Morning's Knock
Claire barely slept that night. The sight of Dominic Kane sitting cross-legged on a dusty gym floor, patiently balancing wooden toothpicks and marshmallows while Noah giggled uncontrollably, played on a loop in her mind. He had stayed until the very end. He had signed the visitor registry, shaken Noah’s teacher's trembling hand, and walked them to Claire’s modest hatchback before disappearing into the night without asking for thanks.
It was supposed to be a one-time transaction. A theatrical performance to silence the schoolyard bullies and save a child's dignity.
At 7:45 AM the following morning, Claire was in the kitchen of the Bennett estate, standing by the stove flipping golden pancakes. Noah was sitting at the breakfast bar, still wearing his superhero pajamas, happily chattering about how his dad was taller than all the other dads combined.
“Noah, sweetheart, we talked about this,” Claire said gently, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Mr. Kane was doing us a very special favor. He has an enormous company to run. He isn't going to be around every day, okay?”
Noah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded bravely. “I know. But he was my dad for two hours. That’s better than zero hours.”
A sharp, firm knock echoed through the foyer.
Claire frowned. Delivery drivers never knocked on the heavy oak front door this early, and Elizabeth’s housekeeper didn't arrive until ten. She wiped her hands on her apron, smoothed down her emerald-green knit dress that hugged her curves comfortably, and walked down the marble hallway.
She pulled the heavy door open and stopped dead in her tracks.
Dominic Kane stood on the front porch.
The morning sun caught the silver in his hair. He wore a crisp navy-blue suit, his trench coat open, holding a polished leather briefcase in one hand and a white bakery box tied with red string in the other. Behind him in the driveway sat the black sedan, its engine idling quietly.
“Good morning, Miss Harper,” Dominic said calmly, as though arriving at her front door was the most natural thing in the world.
“What... what are you doing here?” Claire sputtered, her hand gripping the edge of the door. “The event was last night. We had a deal. One night.”
Dominic tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over her with an intensity that made the skin on her neck prickle with heat. “Deals evolve. May I come in, or do you prefer your neighbors watching the city’s favorite boogeyman loiter on your doorstep?”
Claire stepped aside in stunned bewilderment. Dominic stepped into the foyer, bringing with him the scent of cedarwood, rich espresso, and crisp autumn wind.
From the kitchen, the patter of bare feet sounded against the wood floor. Noah rounded the corner, froze, and his jaw dropped. “Dad?!”
Dominic knelt down immediately, setting the briefcase on the floor and opening the bakery box to reveal six warm, sugar-glazed bear claw pastries. “Morning, kiddo. I figured school lunches don't serve proper breakfast pastries. Eat up, we leave for school in twenty minutes.”
“You’re taking me to school? In the black car?!” Noah squealed, practically vibrating with excitement as he snatched a pastry.
“Every morning this week,” Dominic replied smoothly, ruffling Noah’s messy hair with shocking gentleness. “Go get dressed. Lace your shoes properly.”
Noah took off like a rocket toward his bedroom.
Claire waited until the bedroom door clicked shut before rounding on Dominic, her eyes flashing with indignant heat. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t do this!”
Dominic rose to his full height, closing the distance between them until Claire had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. His presence was overwhelming, masculine, and intoxicatingly potent.
“Do what, Claire? Protect what belongs to me?”
“He doesn't belong to you!” she hissed, lowering her voice. “You’re giving him false hope! In two days, in a week, you’re going to vanish back to your penthouse and your underground empire, and he is going to be devastated all over again. I won't let you play games with his heart!”
Dominic stepped closer still, his hand reaching out to catch a loose strand of auburn hair and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her sensitive jawline, sending an electric shock straight through her core. Claire’s breath hitched in her throat.
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“I don't play games, Miss Harper,” Dominic murmured, his voice velvety and dark. “Last night, someone took photos of me in that gym. By midnight, those photos were circulating among Westbridge’s elite. By this morning, my rivals know I claim this boy as my son. If I pull away now, he becomes vulnerable. If I stay by his side, nobody touches him.”
He leaned down, his lips inches from her ear. “And besides... who said I was only doing this for the boy?”
