Chapter 2 - Crossing the County Line
The rented sedan looked entirely wrong parked outside the gates of the Manhattan estate. Dominic had insisted on driving a nondescript vehicle, dismissing his security detail with a single hand gesture that left his senior guards looking like abandoned hounds. Only Marco Bellini had been given the itinerary, along with a quiet, lethal warning: If anyone touches the house while I'm gone, burn the city down.
In the back seat, Lily was fast asleep, her small head resting against Mr. Whiskers while soft snatches of country music drifted from the radio.
Sophia sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing landscape as the towering skyscrapers of New York melted into the rolling, mist-draped hills of rural Pennsylvania. The air changed here. It smelled of wet earth, pine, and decaying leaves—a stark, grounding contrast to the sterile, polished marble of Dominic’s world.
"You're tense," Dominic said, his eyes fixed on the empty two-lane highway. His hands on the steering wheel were steady, relaxed, the dark ink of the dragon tattoo peeking out from beneath his rolled-up cuff.
"I'm remembering why I left," Sophia muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Out here, everyone knows your business before you've even finished living it. By the time we pull into the driveway, half the county will already know that Sophia Carter came home with a man who doesn't look like he belongs behind a plow."
"Let them look," Dominic said smoothly. "People only stare when they don't know what to do with power. Give them something else to think about."
Sophia turned her head to look at him profile. The sharp jawline, the faint shadow of stubble, the expensive leather driving gloves he’d reluctantly put on to hide the distinct scars of a very different life. It was a staggering lie they were about to enact. A billionaire mafia boss acting as a shield for a disgraced small-town girl.
"My father is going to hate you within five minutes," she warned quietly.
"Your father doesn't know me," Dominic replied, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. "If he did, he wouldn't hate me. He’d be terrified of me. But for your mother’s sake, I’ll play the polite, humble suitor. I can be very charming when the situation requires it."
"I'll believe that when I see it," Sophia sighed.
"Tell me about your mother," Dominic requested, his voice softening just enough to catch her off guard. "Margaret. What does she look like when she’s well?"
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Sophia closed her eyes, the memory flashing behind her eyelids. "She has lines around her eyes from laughing too much at things that weren't funny. She bakes bread every Tuesday, even when her arthritis flares up so badly she can barely hold the wooden spoon. And she always sings off-key when she washes dishes. When I told her I was pregnant... she didn't yell. She just wrapped me in a flour-dusted apron and said, 'A child is never a mistake, Soph. Only a hard road.'"
The car grew quiet. Dominic didn't offer empty comfort or pity. He simply drove faster, eating up the miles, carrying her closer to the heartbreak waiting at the end of the lane.
