Chapter 4 - The Whispers in the DarkThe applause that followed Dominic’s announcement was polite, terrified, and utterly hollow. No one dared to cross us for the rest of the evening. Syndicate bosses nodded respectfully from a distance, and society matworms who had once sneered at my clothes now tripped over themselves trying to catch my eye.
Yet, as midnight approached, the glittering facade began to wear thin on my nerves.
“I need some air,” I whispered to Dominic as he was talking quietly with Marco near the private balcony doors.
“Do you want me to come?” he asked instantly, his protective instincts flaring up.
“No, stay here. I’ll just be on the terrace for five minutes. My feet are killing me.”
Dominic nodded reluctantly, handing me his encrypted house phone just in case. “If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, press speed dial one.”
I stepped out onto the wide stone terrace overlooking the glittering Chicago skyline. The cool night air of May felt incredible against my flushed cheeks. I rested my hands against the stone balustrade, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of lake water and distant rain.
“Well, well, well. Look who managed to trade up from a shared apartment to a mob boss’s bed.”
My eyes snapped open.
Stepping out from the shadows near the terrace exit was Britney. She looked disheveled, her makeup slightly smeared, her expression twisted with bitter resentment.
“Britney,” I said coldly, turning to face her. “If you have any sense left, you’ll turn around and go back inside before Dominic realizes I’m out here.”
Britney let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Oh, do you think he actually cares about you, Chloe? You’re just a temporary distraction! A pretty incubator for his mafia heir! Do you really think a monster like Dominic Russo knows how to love anyone? He’s going to chew you up and spit you out the second things get dangerous.”
Before I could formulate a sharp reply, the heavy glass doors slid open with a soft click.
The temperature on the terrace dropped so fast I could see my own breath.
Dominic stepped out into the night. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't yell. He simply walked toward us with the silent, predatory grace of a panther closing in on its prey.
Britney froze, color draining entirely from her face as Dominic towered over her by a full head.
“Mr... Mr. Russo,” Britney stammered, shrinking back against the stone wall. “I was just... we were just talking—”
“You were speaking to the mother of my child with a tone I find profoundly offensive,” Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping into that terrifying, razor-sharp register. He didn't even look at her; his dark eyes were fixed on the horizon, speaking to Marco who stepped out right behind him. “Marco, ensure Ms. Kensington and her associate Mr. Vanguard are escorted off these premises immediately. And make sure they understand that if they ever step foot in Cook County again, their transportation will be one-way.”
“Right away, boss,” Marco said, grabbing Britney’s arm with polite, crushing firmness and leading her weeping form back inside.
Dominic turned to me, the icy mask instantly melting away as his strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me safely against his chest.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing my cheek.
May you like
I looked up into his dark, fiercely protective eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. All the fear, the doubt, and the whispers of the outside world faded away.
“I’m more than alright,” I whispered, resting my head against his shoulder. “I’m home.”
