Chapter 6 - When Masks Begin to Slip
The penthouse felt like a command bunker. Armed security details paced the hallways, computer monitors flickered with live feeds of the building’s perimeter, and encrypted phone lines hummed continuously.
Mason had been brought in as well, settled comfortably in one of the guest suites with round-the-clock nursing care. But Hannah couldn't rest. She stood in the great room, watching Dominic issue cold, ruthless directives to a room full of private security specialists.
“Find Rossi’s safehouses,” Dominic commanded, his voice slicing through the room like a razor. “Freeze his off-shore liquidity. If he so much as breathes near this property, do not wait for the police. Neutralize him.”
The men nodded and dispersed, leaving Dominic alone under the recessed lights. He dragged a hand over his face, looking exhausted and profoundly guilty.
“You shouldn't be here,” Dominic said without looking at her.
Hannah walked toward him. “I’m here because Rossi threatened me.”
“You are here because I brought you into the line of fire!” Dominic spun around, his composure shattering. “Do you understand now? This is why I paid for three empty seats! This is why I lived in the dark! My brother died in a car fire twelve years ago because someone wanted to send me a message! And now, because I was selfish—because I couldn't resist having your light in my miserable, blackened life—I put a target on your back!”
Hannah didn't flinch. She stepped directly into his space, grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket and forcing him to look down at her.
“Look at me, Dominic,” she said fiercely. “My life before you wasn't safe. It was slow suffocation. I was drowning in debt, working eighteen hours a day, watching my brother suffer, and waiting for the roof to cave in. You didn't curse my life. You saved it.”
“Hannah...”
“I am not made of glass,” she whispered, her voice softening as she cupped his cheek. “Stop treating me like a mistake.”
Dominic stared at her, his chest heaving. The heavy armor he had forged over twelve years of agony and guilt crumbled to dust. With a low, ragged sound, he pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her waist as his mouth crushed against hers.
The kiss was desperate, hungry, and filled with a fierce tenderness that took her breath away. Hannah clung to him, tangling her fingers in his hair, pouring every ounce of her strength into the broken man who had moved mountains just to hear her laugh.
When they finally broke apart, Dominic rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet penthouse.
“I won't let him touch you,” Dominic swore against her lips. “I will burn this entire city to the ground before I let anyone hurt you.”
Two days passed in relative peace. Dominic’s security network raided Rossi’s known hideouts, confiscating weapons and seizing financial accounts. By Thursday afternoon, the threat appeared contained. Reports came in that Rossi was attempting to flee across the Canadian border.
Relief swept through the penthouse. Dominic, wanting to reclaim normalcy and celebrate Mason’s successful secondary surgery scheduled for the coming week, made an uncharacteristically sentimental decision.
“Tonight is the Rachmaninoff gala at the Marlowe,” Dominic said, watching Hannah fix her earrings in the mirror. “The same concert we met at six weeks ago. Let's go back. Let's take our box.”
Hannah smiled, turning to him in an emerald silk dress. “Are we buying three seats?”
May you like
Dominic stepped behind her, fastening a diamond necklace around her throat. His hands were gentle, his eyes warm with devotion.
“No,” he whispered into her ear. “Tonight, we only need two.”
