Chapter 4 - The Quiet in the StormBy 2:00 AM, the estate had returned to a deep, profound quiet.
I sat in a plush armchair inside the master suite's private sitting room, wrapped in a soft cashmere robe provided by Dr. Vance. My hands were neatly bandaged with white gauze, the sharp pain reduced to a dull, manageable ache under the local medication.
The heavy oak door opened softly.
Dante walked into the room. He had removed his shoulder holster, wearing a simple gray sweater that made his broad frame look warm and approachable. He carried a silver tray holding two cups of fresh chamomile tea and warm pastries.
He set the tray on the side table, dropping onto one knee beside my armchair.
"How are your hands feeling, Cara?" Dante asked softly, his gray eyes holding a depth of genuine concern that made my heart leap against my ribs.
"They're fine, Dante," I answered quietly. "Dr. Vance said the bandages can come off in three days."
Dante reached out, his broad, calloused hand carefully, reverently cupping my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had lingered on my lash.
"Julian and Vanessa have been dealt with," Dante reported quietly. "They will never threaten you again. Your apartment in the city has been packed under Leo's supervision, and your back rent has been cleared."
I looked at him, my hazel eyes wide with confusion. "My apartment...?"
"You aren't going back to that two-room walk-up on 5th Street, Cara," Dante stated, his voice smooth, firm, and unyielding. "And you aren't returning to twelve-hour shifts at Bellini's."
"Dante... I'm a waitress," I reminded him softly. "I don't belong in a fortress like this."
Dante took my bandaged right hand, bringing it up to his lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss against the white gauze over my knuckles.
"You belong wherever you want to be, Cara," Dante whispered, his gray eyes burning with an intense, fierce devotion that took my breath away. "You saved my life tonight. But more than that... you showed me that there is still truth and courage in this dark world. If you choose to stay... this house is your home."
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My breath caught in my throat. Looking into his storm-gray eyes, I saw no longer the feared mafia boss of the East Coast, but a man who had been surrounded by lies and treachery for years—a man who was desperately reaching out for something real.
"I'll stay, Dante," I promised softly.
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