Chapter 8 - The Safehouse on the CliffTwo hours later, the boat cut its engines and slid gently into the mossy boathouse of an isolated stone mansion perched high on a jagged cliff overlooking Long Island Sound.
It was an old Rossi safehouse—untouched, hidden from satellite surveillance, and entirely off the grid.
Dominic carried Clara out of the boat in his arms, ignoring her weak protests that she could walk, and hauled her up the winding stone steps into the warm, fire-lit interior of the cabin.
A roaring fire crackled in a massive stone hearth, casting dancing amber shadows across the timber-beamed ceiling.
He laid her down gently on a plush leather sofa, covering her with three heavy wool blankets before rushing to fetch a first-aid kit and a dry flannel shirt from the bedroom upstairs.
When he returned, Clara was sitting up, pulling the wool blanket tightly around her shoulders, her gray eyes staring fixedly into the fire.
"You should have left me at the townhouse," she said quietly, her voice devoid of fight. "I’m just a waitress from Queens. I’m a liability. You married me on a whim because of some legal loophole to protect your mother, and now you’re risking your entire empire just to drag a corpse across the state line."
Dominic stopped kneeling beside her. He set the medical kit down on the floor, stood up slowly, and walked over to stand in front of the hearth, the firelight illuminating the harsh, carved angles of his face.
"I don't do whims, Clara," he said, his voice terrifyingly steady.
She looked up at him, a bitter edge slipping into her tone. "Then why? Why risk everything for a stranger?"
Dominic took a slow step closer, dropping down onto one knee so he was looking directly into her eyes at eye level.
"Because the night I watched you take five bullets for my mother in that ballroom," Dominic murmured, his voice losing its steely edge, revealing something raw and buried deep beneath years of violence and blood, "was the first time in my adult life I realized what it meant to truly lose control."
Clara’s breath hitched.
"I didn't marry you as a legal loophole," Dominic continued, reaching out to gently tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "I married you because the moment you fell to that marble floor, bleeding out for a woman you didn't even know, my world ended. And the only way I could build a new one was by putting my ring on your finger and swearing to the Almighty that nobody would ever hurt you again."
Tears welled up in Clara’s gray eyes. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scream at him for dragging her into a mafia war, for lying to her, for treating her life like a chess piece.
Instead, she reached out with a trembling hand and touched the hard line of his jaw.
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"You’re a terrifying man, Dominic Rossi," she whispered, a watery smile touching her lips.
"I know," he replied softly, leaning his cheek into her palm. "Fortunately, you’re a terrifying woman."
