Chapter 5 - Under the Same Roof
The color drained entirely from Naomi’s face. She shoved against Dominic’s chest with frantic desperation, hissing, “Get out of here—go into the back room—hide—”
Dominic didn't move an inch. He stood planted like a monolith, his dark eyes fixed on the doorway as little Lily skipped into the studio, her pink backpack bouncing against her shoulders, holding Julie’s hand.
Lily stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the tall, imposing man standing beside her mother. Her eyes widened with absolute delight.
“It’s the airplane man!” Lily squealed, dropping her backpack with a loud thud and running straight toward Dominic.
Naomi gasped, reaching out to grab her daughter, but she was too late. Lily wrapped her small arms around Dominic’s tailored trouser leg, looking up at him with unadulterated adoration. Dominic looked down at the little girl clinging to him, a strange, foreign expression softening the hard, unyielding lines of his face. Slowly, deliberately, he knelt down on one knee once more—the same gesture he had made on the aircraft—and rested his large, powerful hands gently on Lily’s shoulders.
“Hello, Lily,” Dominic said, his voice stripped of all its usual corporate coldness, sounding entirely human.
“You came!” Lily beamed, clapping her hands together. “You didn't leave!”
“I told you I wouldn't,” Dominic replied, raising his gaze to look past Lily at Julie, who looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “Julie, take her upstairs. Wash her hands. Your mother and I need to have a conversation.”
Julie didn't hesitate for a second. She scooped Lily up into her arms, ignoring the child’s protests of “I want to talk to the airplane man!”, and practically sprinted toward the residential staircase leading to the upper floor of the brownstone.
The heavy door clicked shut behind them, leaving a suffocating silence in the art studio.
Naomi was shaking from head to foot. She gripped the edge of her worktable so hard her knuckles turned white. “How dare you,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a rage so hot it burned. “How dare you walk into my home, manipulate my daughter, and act like you have some kind of right over her?”
Dominic stood up slowly, towering over her. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance until Naomi could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“She is my daughter, Naomi,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously low. “That gives me every right.”
“You signed away your rights the moment you brought bloodshed into our bed!” Naomi screamed, tears of sheer frustration spilling over her cheeks. “You think I wanted to run? You think it was easy hiding in a tiny apartment, working myself to the bone, terrified every time I saw a black car slow down on the street? I did that to protect her from the monster you are!”
Dominic flinched. Just a fraction—a microscopic tightening of his jaw—but Naomi saw it.
He reached out, his large, warm hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from her cheek. Naomi flinched violently away from his touch, but Dominic’s grip was firm, inescapable, and unbearably tender.
“I am a monster to my enemies, Naomi,” Dominic whispered, his stormy gray eyes boring straight into her soul. “To you... and to her... I am whatever you need me to be. But I am not walking out of this house. Pack your bags.”
May you like
Naomi stared at him in sheer disbelief. “What?”
“Pack your bags,” Dominic repeated, his tone brooking zero argument. “You and Lily are coming home with me. To the penthouse. Where you belong.”
