Chapter 4 - The Poison in the WineBy Thursday morning, the ten-thousand-dollar check was sitting in my canvas duffel bag—not because I wanted it, but because Leo had personally intercepted my landlord at seven a.m., paid off every cent I owed, and left a signed receipt on my kitchen counter before I could even blink.
When I confronted Dominic about it while checking his vitals, he merely raised an eyebrow and told me to buy better shoes.
The physical toll of the bullet wound was slowly receding, replaced by the dangerous, restless energy of a caged tiger. Dominic was already pacing the length of his master suite by Friday afternoon, despite my strict orders to stay in bed.
“You’re going to tear the internal stitches,” I warned, standing in the doorway with a tray of fresh medical supplies.
“If I stay in that bed another hour, I’m going to put a bullet through my own head out of sheer boredom,” Dominic muttered, pouring himself a glass of dark red wine from a crystal decanter on the sideboard.
“You shouldn't be drinking alcohol while on broad-spectrum antibiotics,” I sighed, setting the tray down and stepping toward him.
“A glass of Barolo isn't going to kill me,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips.
Before the rim touched his mouth, I snatched the glass right out of his hand, setting it down with a sharp clink on the mahogany table.
Dominic blinked, stunned by my audacity, before a dark frown settled across his face. “Nora—”
“I don't care if it’s holy water, Mr. Rossi. Doctor’s orders—or rather, nurse’s orders—mean no alcohol until your white blood cell count returns to normal.”
Before he could argue, the heavy oak door swung open without a knock.
Leo strode into the room, his face paler than usual, holding a small silver testing kit used by the estate’s food tasters.
“Boss,” Leo said, his voice dropping into an urgent whisper. “We have a problem.”
Dominic’s expression hardened instantly, all traces of amusement vanishing from his eyes. “Speak.”
“One of the kitchen staff—a new boy hired through the Falcone-affiliated agency last week—was caught trying to slip out the side gates,” Leo reported, laying a small glass vial on the desk. “We searched his quarters. We found this.”
Dominic looked at the vial, then glanced at the crystal wine glass I had just snatched from his hand.
A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the room.
I looked between them, my heart skipping a beat. “What is that?”
“Potassium cyanide,” Leo answered grimly. “Fast-acting. It was meant for the wine decanter.”
My breath hitched in my throat. I stared at the crystal glass sitting innocently on the table just inches away from my hand. If I hadn't snatched it away a minute earlier, Dominic would have taken a sip—and he would have been dead within three minutes.
Dominic slowly turned his head, his gray-green eyes locking onto mine with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't coldness; it was a sudden, fierce realization that someone had tried to kill him right under my nose, and I had inadvertently intercepted the blow.
“You saved my life again, nurse,” Dominic whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
“I just didn't want you wasting my expensive antibiotics,” I muttered, trying to mask the tremor in my voice as the reality of what had almost happened began to sink in.
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Dominic didn't smile. He turned his attention back to Leo, his eyes turning into shards of polished steel.
“Find the boy,” Dominic ordered, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Bring him to the basement. And bring Elena down too. It’s time we have a family meeting about house rules.”
