Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary on Michigan AvenueBy 6:30 PM, the icy Chicago rain hit the high glass windows of a luxury Maybach glided through the streets toward the Gold Coast district.
Inside the vehicle, the warm leather interior smelled of cedar, soft wool, and fresh coffee. I sat in the plush leather seat wearing a soft, heavy cashmere coat Roman had placed around my shoulders, holding a hot cup of tea in my trembling hands.
Beside me sat Roman. His charcoal jacket was off, revealing a clean white dress shirt with a crisp white medical bandage wrapped firmly around his lower ribs where he had been stabbed forty-five minutes earlier.
His phone buzzed softly. He answered it, listening for three seconds before putting it on speaker.
"Don Roman," Dr. Sterling’s calm, professional voice came through the speakers. "I am currently at Miss Megan’s apartment. I have examined five-year-old Leo. The ear infection is acute, but we have administered an advanced pediatric antibiotic and pain reliever. His fever has dropped, and he is currently eating warm soup with the nurse. He is completely safe."
A wave of wild, overwhelming relief crashed over my heart. Tears of gratitude spilled over my eyelashes, cutting clean tracks through the dried rain on my cheeks.
I buried my face in my hands, letting out a soft, trembling sob that I had held inside for weeks.
"Thank you..." I choked out, my voice raspy with emotion. "Thank you so much..."
Roman reached out his broad hand, gently, reverently laying his palm over my shoulder, pulling my small frame closer until my head rested comfortably against his broad, solid chest.
"You don't need to thank me, Megan," Roman whispered softly, his hand gently stroking my hair as the car glided through the city lights. "You stayed in a dark alley while I was bleeding out, and you held your hands flat against my wound while I threatened your life. You saved my soul tonight."
"Why were you in that alley, Roman?" I asked softly, raising my hazel eyes to look into his severe, carved face. "Who did that to you?"
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Roman’s winter-gray eyes went dark as mountain ice, a cold, lethal shadow passing over his features before settling back into a protective warmth as he looked down at me.
"A man who thought he could use my temporary distraction to steal my family's legacy," Roman revealed softly. "A man named Marcus Vance... my estranged uncle."
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