Chapter 6 - The Golden Cage
Moving into the Rossi estate felt remarkably like stepping into a gilded trap. True to his word, Leo handled my entire apartment eviction by midday, bringing my meager belongings in neat cardboard boxes while I monitored Dominic’s post-operative vitals. My little rusted sedan was towed away to be replaced by a sleek, black SUV parked right by the front gates—a permanent reminder that my old life was officially over.
The master wing of the mansion was sprawling, dark, and suffocatingly quiet. Yet, as the days bled into one another, my relationship with Dominic evolved from tense clinical standoff into a strange, uneasy symbiosis. He was demanding, arrogant, and prone to brooding silences, but he was also shockingly intelligent. We spent hours playing chess by the large bay window overlooking the mountains, trading sharp barbs while I changed his dressings.
“You’re cheating,” I accused one afternoon, staring down at the board where my knight had been deftly trapped by his bishop.
“I’m strategizing,” Dominic corrected, leaning back in his leather chair with a faint smirk. His right arm was still immobilized in a light brace, but his color was fully restored, highlighting the sharp, aristocratic lines of his face. “There’s a difference between breaking rules and mastering them. Something an ER nurse should understand.”
“ER nurses follow strict protocols, Mr. Rossi. We don't stage coups on the chessboard.”
“Maybe that’s why you got laid off,” he murmured smoothly.
Before I could fire back a scathing retort, the heavy oak doors of the study swung open. Leo walked in, his expression grimmer than usual, holding a secure encrypted tablet.
“Boss. We have a problem from the northern ports. The rival Moretti family is moving cargo through our territory without authorization. They think you’re incapacitated.”
Dominic’s playful demeanor vanished instantly. The temperature in the room plummeted. The mafia boss replaced the convalescent man in a fraction of a second, his dark eyes turning hard as polished obsidian.
“They think I’m dying,” Dominic said quietly, standing up from the chair with effortless grace. “Let’s remind them why I own the north.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said, stepping directly into his path before my brain could stop me. “Your shoulder was re-stitched eight days ago. If you start swinging a gun or getting into turf wars, those sutures will pop like cheap thread.”
Leo looked at me with wide, terrified eyes, clearly expecting me to be thrown out the window for countermanding the boss.
May you like
Dominic looked down at me, towering over my frame, his jaw tight. “Step aside, Nora.”
“No,” I said, crossing my arms and mirroring his stubborn posture. “Rule three of your household might be to do whatever you tell me, but my medical oath supersedes your ego. You stay put, or I inject you with enough fast-acting sedative to keep you comatose until Tuesday.”
