Chapter 4 - Blood and Silk
By Thursday afternoon, the Salvatore estate had transformed into something resembling a high-security military command post draped in five-star luxury.
I spent most of the day in a daze. Elena, the housekeeper, had brought three rolling racks of designer clothes into my quarters—soft cashmere sweaters, tailored trousers, silk blouses, and comfortable leather flats that actually fit my feet. When I protested, Elena had simply smiled warmly and said, “Mr. Salvatore insisted. He noticed your blistered heels, Ms. Emma. Please, do not insult his hospitality.”
Lily was having the time of her life.
Unaware of the armed men stationed every fifty yards behind the manicured boxwood hedges, she spent the afternoon in the estate’s heated indoor solarium, splashing in the shallow end of the pool under the watchful, surprisingly attentive eyes of Luca. The towering hitman had abandoned his jacket, rolled his shirtsleeves up over his tattooed forearms, and was currently sitting on the pool edge folding paper boats for my daughter.
“He’s good with her,” a voice murmured behind me.
I turned quickly. Dominic was standing at the entrance of the solarium, holding two porcelain cups of coffee. He had traded his business suit for dark denim and a black charcoal sweater. He looked younger, yet no less dangerous.
“He has three nieces,” Dominic added, stepping beside me and handing me a cup. “Luca looks like a gargoyle, but he cried when his oldest niece played a snowflake in her elementary school pageant.”
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped my throat before I caught myself. I took the cup. Real vanilla bean and dark roast.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For the clothes. For... everything. But Dr. Sterling called this morning. He was so polite he was almost trembling. He said the private suite at Presbyterian is prepped for tomorrow.”
“Sterling is the best pediatric thoracic surgeon in North America,” Dominic said, watching Lily laugh as one of Luca’s paper boats capsized. “His hands don't shake. Your daughter will live a long, healthy life, Emma. You have my word.”
A lump formed in my throat. For two years, I had gone to bed every night staring at the ceiling of my moldy apartment, praying to a silent god that my daughter wouldn't wake up blue, that her little heart wouldn't give out before I could scrounge together enough money for the next specialist visit.
And this man—a killer, a crime lord—had solved it with a single phone call.
“Why are you doing this for us?” I asked again, turning to face him. “It’s too much. The debt was paid the moment you pulled me out of that diner.”
Dominic turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the breath catch in my chest.
“I don't think you understand what you did that night,” he said softly, stepping closer. The steam from our coffee mingled in the space between us. “Everyone in my life wants something from Dominic Salvatore. My captains want territory. The commission wants compliance. The feds want my head on a spike. When that bomb went off, I knew I was dead. I looked at the fire and I accepted it.”
He reached out, his warm thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered at my temple, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight down my spine.
“Then two small hands grabbed my coat,” he whispered. “You had no idea who I was. I could have been a monster, a rapist, a nobody. You dragged me through hell because you believed a human life was worth saving. You gave me back my life, Emma. The least I can do is build a fortress around yours.”
My heart was beating so loud I was certain he could hear it. I wanted to lean into his touch. The sheer, overwhelming exhaustion of being poor, terrified, and alone for years was washing over me, making me desperate for the strength he offered.
Bang.
The heavy glass door of the solarium flew open.
Luca was on his feet in an instant, his hand disappearing under his armpit where his holster sat. Dominic stepped smoothly in front of me, putting his body between me and the entrance in an automatic reflex.
It was one of the security team lieutenants. His face was pale, his breath ragged.
“Boss,” the man said, keeping his voice low but urgent. “A convoy just breached the secondary outer gate. They didn't engage—they used an executive Salvatore bypass transponder.”
Dominic’s eyes turned to cold slate. “Who is it?”
“Your uncle. Don Carmine.”
The temperature in the solarium plummeted. Even Luca’s posture stiffened into rigid military readiness.
“Take Emma and Lily to the panic room in the lower cellar,” Dominic commanded, his voice dropping into that chilling, clinical register.
“Dominic—” I gasped, grabbing his forearm. Beneath the soft cashmere of his sweater, his muscle was as hard as iron.
He looked down at my hand on his arm, then met my eyes. For a fraction of a second, the cold mask cracked, revealing the fierce, burning protectiveness beneath.
“Trust me,” he said gently, covering my hand with his own for a brief second before pulling away. “Nobody touches you in this house. Go with Luca.”
I grabbed Lily from the poolside, wrapping her shivering, wet frame in a thick beach towel as Luca escorted us rapidly through a hidden service door in the wall.
May you like
As the heavy panel clicked shut behind us, I caught one last glimpse of Dominic walking into the grand foyer.
He was walking toward the front doors, his hands resting casually at his sides, stepping forward to meet his own blood.
