Chapter 5 - The Intruder in the West WingThree days inside the Vale estate had proven two things to Dr. Rachel Caruso: first, Dominic Vale was as good as his word regarding her new medical facility—the basement of the estate’s west wing had been transformed overnight into a surgical trauma bay that made St. Jude's look like a county clinic. Second, living under the roof of Chicago's most feared mafia boss was an exercise in extreme psychological endurance.


It was 2:00 AM when Rachel woke up to a faint, metallic click outside her bedroom door.
She wasn't wearing her lab coat or her scuffed boots; she wore a simple oversized silk shirt she had found in the closet, her hair falling in wild waves around her shoulders. Slipping quietly out of bed, she grabbed the heavy brass bedside lamp.
The door handle slowly turned.
As the door pushed open, a dark shadow slipped into the room. Rachel didn't hesitate. She swung the lamp in a ferocious arc aimed straight for the intruder's head.
A large hand caught the lamp inches from his jaw with casual ease.
Dominic Vale sighed, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, looking mildly amused.
"If you wanted to murder me, Dr. Caruso, you could have just used a scalpel during your routine checkups."
Rachel lowered the lamp, her heart pounding against her ribs. "What are you doing in my room at two in the morning?"
"Checking the perimeter," Dominic said, stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind him. "One of my guards saw a drone hovering near the north balcony ten minutes ago. I wanted to make sure you were secure."
"I'm perfectly secure behind a locked door," Rachel shot back, though she acutely felt how close he was standing in the dim moonlight filtering through the French doors.
"Nothing in this world is secure, Rachel," Dominic murmured, taking another step forward. His gray eyes raked over her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. "Especially not when men like Vance are still breathing."
"Vance is your problem, not mine," she whispered, though she didn't step back.
"You became my problem the night you saved Julian in that hangar," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a rough, hypnotic register. "And every day since then, you've occupied far more of my mind than any business empire ever has."
Before Rachel could process the warning bells ringing in her head, Dominic’s hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electric current straight down her spine.
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"Dominic..." she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.
"Stay with me, Rachel," he murmured, his face drawing dangerously close. "Not just as a surgeon. Stay."