Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Shadows
The silence in the study was deafening. The only sound was the faint hum of the air filtration system and the ragged rhythm of my own breathing.
"Is it true?" Dominic asked.
He wasn't looking at the phone. He was looking at the old photograph on the desk—at his father standing shoulder-to-shoulder with mine.
"I don't know," I whispered honestly. "I was a child in 2004. My father never talked about his work at home. To me, he was just Dad. He helped me with my math homework and taught me how to sail."
Dominic stepped closer to the desk, picking up the photograph. "My father was a ruthless bastard. He built Mercer Logistics out of the ashes of the old Brooklyn waterfront. I spent ten years cleaning the blood off this name, legitimizing sixty percent of our holdings, turning this company into something Caleb wouldn't have to bleed for."
He turned his gaze onto me, his gray eyes searching my face with an intensity that burned.
"Did you know about this connection before you came here?" he asked.
"No!" I said, stepping forward, the sudden movement sending a sharp lance of agony through my healing ribs. I swayed slightly, my vision swimming.
Dominic caught me before I could fall. His arm wrapped firmly around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard chest. The contact was electric, sending a shudder straight through me that had nothing to do with pain.
"Easy," he muttered, his breath warm against my temple. "Don't tear your stitches."
"Dominic, I swear to you," I gasped, looking up into his eyes, our faces barely inches apart. "I chose Blackthorne House because it was a fortress. Because I thought you were untouchable. I didn't know our fathers were linked. If I had known, I would have run in the opposite direction."
Dominic held me for a long, breathless moment. His thumb traced the curve of my hip, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes. For a terrifying second, I thought he was going to kiss me. The tension between us was an open wire, humming with eight years of grief, danger, and an undeniable, magnetic attraction that had been simmering since the rainy afternoon I first sat with Caleb in the music room.
"I believe you," Dominic said quietly.
He didn't release me. He slowly eased me into the large leather executive chair behind his desk, kneeling down on one knee in front of me so we were at eye level.
"Cross is playing psychological warfare," Dominic said, his voice steady, grounding me. "He's running out of money, his safehouses are being raided by my teams, and the federal marshals are sniffing around his legitimate fronts. He wants to sow distrust between us. He wants you to run so he can pluck you off the street."
"What if the ledger really does incriminate your family?" I asked softly. "What if my father kept records that could send you to prison, Dominic?"
Dominic reached out, taking my cold hand into his large, warm palm, his fingers lacing through mine.
"Then let it burn," Dominic said without a fraction of hesitation. "I survived my father's death. I survived Claire's death. I will not sacrifice the woman who took three bullets for my son to protect a dead man's legacy."
My heart stuttered. *The woman who took three bullets for my son.*
"Tomorrow night," Dominic continued, his voice dropping into business mode, "the Brooklyn Navy Yard is hosting the annual Maritime Heritage Foundation gala. Julian Cross's primary financial backer, Senator William Davies, will be the guest of honor."
"Davies?" I frowned. "The state senator who chaired the waterfront development committee?"
"The very same," Dominic said, standing back up to his full, commanding height. "Davies is the funnel through which Cross launders his weapons revenue. If I cut off Davies, Cross is completely bankrupt. He won't be able to pay his mercenaries."
"You're going to confront a sitting senator?"
"I'm going to ruin him," Dominic corrected coldly. "And you are coming with me."
I stared at him in disbelief. "Dominic, I can barely walk without gasping for breath! Cross is looking for me. If I walk into a high-society event—"
"You will be on my arm," Dominic cut me off, his eyes flashing with lethal confidence. "Julian Cross thinks you are a terrified, broken girl hiding in my servant quarters. Tomorrow, I show the entire city that Elena Vance is under the protection of the Mercer family. If Cross wants you, he will have to bring an army to the front door of the New York elite."
Dominic leaned down, resting his hands on the arms of my chair, trapping me in his intoxicating orbit.
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"And besides," he whispered, a ghost of a dangerous, breathtaking smirk touching his lips, "it's time Manhattan saw what happens when the maid becomes the queen."
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