Chapter 3 - The Garden of Secrets
Three days blurred together in a haze of painkillers, fever dreams, and the smell of antiseptic.
When I finally woke up clear-headed enough to walk, the pain in my shoulder felt like a fist clenched inside my muscle tissue, but I refused to stay in that bed another minute. The silence of the room was driving me insane.
I found a silk robe hanging in the walk-in closet—dark emerald, heavy, and smelling faintly of cedar and Dominic’s expensive cologne. Slipping my arms into it required biting my lower lip until I tasted iron, but I managed.
The hallway outside was vast. High ceilings, dark wainscoting, and heavy oil paintings of men who looked like they owned cities—men who probably looked a lot like Dominic Vale.
I followed the sound of a soft, rhythmic voice reading a storybook down the sweeping mahogany staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs, through a pair of double glass doors, lay a conservatory filled with towering ferns, glass panels, and afternoon sunlight.
Sophie sat on a plush velvet window seat, her little legs swinging back and forth. Her dark curls were caught in a bright yellow bow, and she was clutching the same gray stuffed elephant I had heard her mention in my fever dreams.
Standing behind her, leaning against a marble pillar with a cup of black coffee in his hand, was Dominic.
For a man who supposedly ran half the criminal syndicates on the eastern seaboard, he looked remarkably domestic—minus the dark circles under his eyes and the Glock tucked neatly into the waistband of his trousers.
“...and then the little fox found his way home,” Dominic read, his deep, gravelly voice unexpectedly gentle as he turned a page of the picture book.
“He was scared of the dark,” Sophie whispered, her small finger tracing a drawing of a pine tree.
“Everyone is scared of the dark sometimes, squirt,” Dominic murmured. “The trick is remembering that the sun always comes back.”
“Like the butterfly lady?” Sophie asked, tilting her head.
Dominic froze. His gaze drifted slowly from the book toward the open doorway.
Toward me.
I stood in the shadow of the archway, the green silk robe pooling around my bare feet, my bandaged shoulder throbbing.
Sophie gasped, dropped her book, and scrambled off the window seat. She didn't run with the cautious hesitation of a child meeting a stranger; she crossed the marble floor like a small missile, throwing her arms around my waist and burying her face in the silk of my robe.
“Butterfly lady!” she cried out, her voice muffled against my stomach. “You woke up!”
My knees felt weak. I knelt down, ignoring the sharp pull of my stitches, and wrapped my good arm around her, burying my face in her curly hair. She smelled of baby shampoo, lavender, and sweet safety.
“Hey, bug,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I told you I wasn't going anywhere.”
Over Sophie’s small shoulder, I looked up at Dominic.
He hadn't moved from the pillar. His coffee cup was held loosely in one hand, but his knuckles were white. His eyes swept over me—taking in the paleness of my skin, the way I was holding my breath against the pain, the absolute vulnerability of my stance in the middle of his fortress.
“You shouldn't be out of bed,” he said, though he didn't sound angry. He sounded... rattled.
“I was tired of the clouds on the ceiling,” I replied, standing up slowly with Sophie clinging to my hand like a lifeline.
Dominic set his coffee cup down on a glass table with a sharp click. He crossed the room in three long strides, stopping just inches away. Up close, the danger radiating from him was palpable, but so was the strange, heavy gravity pulling him toward us.
“You saved her life,” Dominic said quietly, looking down at me with those midnight-winter eyes. “And now you’re walking around my house in my grandmother’s robe. You have a remarkable talent for making yourself impossible to get rid of, Emma.”
“If you want me gone, give me my sneakers and let me walk out the gates,” I challenged, lifting my chin.
May you like
A slow, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth.
“Try walking past the outer guards in a silk robe and bare feet, and let me know how far you get,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. “Besides... the gates are closed for the winter, Emma. And in Port Ash, no one leaves the Vale estate without an escort.”
