Chapter 9 - Blood and Bandages
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The black armored SUV raced through the blizzard, arriving back at the seaside estate in less than twenty minutes.
Snow whipped violently across the driveway as Dominic’s guards secured the perimeter with automatic rifles.
Dominic refused the medics' assistance at the door, waving them away with an irritable curse.
"I don't need a hospital; I need the surveillance feeds checked on the port warehouses immediately," he snapped.
Emma stepped directly in front of him in the grand entrance hall, blocking his path toward his private office.
"You are losing blood, Dominic, and you are going to let someone treat that wound right now."
The guards in the foyer froze in shock, terrified that the boss would retaliate against such open defiance.
Dominic looked down at Emma, whose emerald dress was stained with his dark blood at the shoulder.
Her eyes were filled with furious determination, completely devoid of fear.
A faint, tired smirk crossed Dominic's pale lips.
"Only you," he said quietly, his voice rough with exhaustion.
He turned toward the grand staircase and walked toward the master bedroom—a room strictly forbidden to all household staff.
Emma followed him inside without hesitation, closing the heavy double doors behind them.
The master suite was vast and masculine, decorated in dark leather, heavy slate, and panoramic glass overlooking the raging ocean.
Dominic stripped off his torn tuxedo jacket and unbuttoned his blood-soaked dress shirt, tossing them onto a leather chair.
Emma caught her breath at the sight of his torso, which was covered in old scars alongside elaborate black ink.
A bullet groove had gouged out a deep, bleeding trench along the meat of his left shoulder blade.
"Sit on the edge of the bed," Emma ordered, retrieving the medical supplies from the adjoining bathroom.
Dominic obeyed quietly, his jaw clenched against the stinging pain as she poured antiseptic over the raw flesh.
Emma’s hands were remarkably steady as she cleaned the wound, her fingers gentle against his warm skin.
"Why did you throw yourself in front of that bullet?" she asked softly, stitching the edges together with practiced care.
"You could have taken cover behind the marble pillars."
Dominic remained silent for a long moment, listening to the wind howling against the bedroom glass.
"My father taught me that everything in this life can be replaced," Dominic began, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Money, territory, ships, even men who pledge their loyalty."
He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her hands pause.
"When the shooting started, Emma, the only thought in my mind was that the world could not replace you."
Emma felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes, her heart aching with a profound, overwhelming emotion.
She finished taping the sterile gauze over his shoulder and rested her palm gently against the side of his stubbled cheek.
Dominic leaned into her touch, closing his eyes like a man who had finally found water after wandering through a desert.
"You shouldn't care about a maid, Dominic," she whispered, her voice trembling.
May you like
Dominic opened his eyes, grabbed her wrist with gentle reverence, and pressed a soft, burning kiss against her palm.
"You were never just a maid to me, Emma."
