Chapter 3
Tessa woke to the smell of roasted coffee beans and rain evaporating off hot asphalt.
She was tangled in sheets that felt like liquid silk—stark contrast to the pilled polyester she bought at discount stores.
For three agonizing seconds, her brain served the comfortable lie that she was in her own bed, late for a shift.
Then she registered the sheer size of the mattress. The heavy soundproof silence.
The events of the previous night crashed into her chest like physical weight.
The motel. The splintered door. The man choking against drywall.
Dominic.
Tessa sat up, dragging a hand through tangled hair.
She was wearing a charcoal gray t-shirt that smelled faintly of cedar and expensive laundry detergent.
Dominic had given it to her before quietly closing the guest room door, leaving her alone with racing thoughts.
He had kept his word. He hadn’t pushed.
But the memory of his breath against her lips, his absolute vow to dismantle her walls, left a low, vibrating hum in her veins.
She slid out of bed. Her worn sneakers looked pathetic on the plush Persian rug.
She put them on anyway, needing something familiar to ground her.
She found him in the kitchen.
Dominic was leaning against the marble island, tablet in one hand, ceramic mug in the other.
He wore dark jeans and a white button-down, untucked, sleeves rolled past his elbows.
He looked up the second her foot crossed the threshold.
The transition in his face was instantaneous—the cold, calculating stare melted into something entirely different.
Quiet, absolute focus.
“There’s coffee in the pot. And bagels from the place on Eighth. Gemma mentioned once that you survive entirely on everything bagels with plain cream cheese.”
Tessa stopped at the edge of the kitchen.
“You remember a passing comment your sister made about my bagel preferences?”
“I remember everything about you.”
He set the tablet down facedown on marble.
“Did you sleep?”
“No.”
Tessa lied. She’d passed out from sheer exhaustion the moment her head hit the pillow.
“Dominic, I need to go home. I need to go to work.”
“You don’t have a job anymore.”
Tessa froze, hand hovering over the coffee pot handle. She whipped her head around.
“Excuse me?”
“I bought the pharmacy this morning.”
Dominic said it with casual indifference, like announcing he’d bought a newspaper.
“Gary is taking early retirement. The store is closed for renovations. You’re on paid leave indefinitely.”
A hot, sharp spike of anger pierced through lingering fear.
Tessa marched around the island, stopping two feet from him.
“You can’t do that. You can’t just buy my life because it’s convenient for you.”
“It’s not about convenience. It’s about keeping you breathing.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t move. He simply absorbed her anger like a stone wall taking a wave.
“The men in that motel room work for the Moretti family. They were trying to leverage Gemma to get to me. They failed. Now they’re looking for a weak point. If they find out you were the one Gemma called, they will come to Queens. They will kick down the door of your studio. And they will not care that you’re just a civilian. They will use you to hurt me.”
Tessa stared at him, chest heaving.
The logical part of her brain—the survivalist that had kept her alive for twenty-three years—knew he was right.
But the independent, cynical woman hated it.
“I am not one of your assets. I am not a piece on your chessboard.”
Dominic set his mug down. He stepped into her space, closing the two feet in a second.
He was so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.
“You’re right.”
He reached out, knuckles brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
His touch was feather-light, completely at odds with the violent reality they were discussing.
“You’re not a pawn, Tessa. You’re the only thing in my life that I actually want to protect. Your apartment is compromised. My men are packing your essentials right now. You’re staying here. I don’t belong here.”
“Then make room. Because I am not letting you out of my sight until the Morettis are buried.”
The Costa family estate was a fortress disguised as a sprawling gilded-age mansion on the North Shore of Long Island.
Tessa sat in the back of the armored SUV, watching the wrought-iron gates swing open.
The grounds were immaculate—manicured hedges and crushed gravel driveways—but the men patrolling the perimeter in dark suits and earpieces ruined the illusion of a peaceful country retreat.
Dominic sat beside her, reading a file. He’d been silent for the forty-minute drive.
He operated in two modes: the fiercely protective man who poured her coffee, and the cold, unapproachable boss running an empire of violence.
Right now, he was the boss.
The SUV stopped at the front steps. A man opened the door before the engine cut.
“Gemma is in the sunroom, boss.”
Dominic didn’t acknowledge the greeting. He looked at Tessa.
“Twenty minutes, then we leave. Wyatt will stay by the door.”
He gestured to a heavily scarred, broad-shouldered man standing near the entrance.
Wyatt offered Tessa a tight, respectful nod.
Tessa stepped out. The air smelled like salt water and money.
She walked up the stone steps, acutely aware of eyes watching her every move.
She felt like an impostor in her thrifted jeans and oversized sweater, stepping into a world built on blood and inheritance.
She found Gemma in a glass-enclosed room overlooking the gray, churning waters of the Sound.
Gemma was curled on a floral chaise, clutching a throw pillow like a life raft.
She looked incredibly small.
“Tess!”
Gemma gasped, scrambling off the lounge and throwing her arms around Tessa.
Tessa hugged her back, feeling the sharp protruding bones of her friend’s shoulders.
“Are you okay, Gem? Did they hurt you?”
“No. Just scared me. I’m so stupid. I owed forty grand to a bookie. I didn’t know he was kicking up to the Morettis. I swear, Tess, I didn’t know.”
“It’s over. Dominic is handling it.”
At the mention of her brother’s name, Gemma flinched.
She looked at Tessa—really looked—her eyes darting over Tessa’s face and the oversized sweater that clearly belonged to a very large man.
“He kept you with him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Tessa shifted uncomfortably. “My apartment isn’t safe.”
Gemma shook her head slowly, sudden sharp clarity breaking through her panic.
“There are a dozen safe houses in the city, Tess. Condos with twenty-four-hour guards. He took you to the penthouse. He took you to his home. Dominic doesn’t bring anyone to the penthouse.”
“He’s just being cautious.”
“Don’t be naive,” Gemma snapped, voice suddenly fierce.
She grabbed Tessa’s hands, squeezing tight.
“Look at me. I love you. You’re the sister I actually chose. But you need to understand what my brother is. He isn’t a normal man. He doesn’t feel things in normal ways. He doesn’t get crushes. He obsesses. He claims things. If he has decided you belong to him, he will burn down the city to keep you.”
A cold chill ran down Tessa’s spine.
It mirrored the terrifying promise Dominic had made last night.
“I can handle him.”
“You can handle the man,” Gemma corrected bitterly. “Can you handle the life? Can you handle knowing the suit he wears to dinner might have someone else’s blood on the cuffs? Because that’s the reality, Tess. I was born into this cage. You’re walking into it willingly.”
Before Tessa could respond, the heavy wooden door clicked open.
Dominic stood in the doorway.
The air in the room instantly dropped ten degrees.
He didn’t look at his sister. His gaze was fixed entirely on Tessa.
“Time to go.”
It wasn’t a request.
Tessa squeezed Gemma’s hands one last time—a silent promise they weren’t done talking—and stood.
She walked toward Dominic.
As she passed him, she caught the faint metallic scent of ozone and something sharper underneath the cedar.
She glanced down.
There was a tiny rust-colored speck on the stark white cuff of his shirt.
Blood.
He caught her looking.
He didn’t hide his wrist. He simply adjusted his cufflink, eyes locking with hers, challenging her to flinch.
Tessa didn’t flinch.
She squared her shoulders and walked past him into the hallway.
The cage was closing.
May you like
And the terrifying part wasn’t the lock.
The terrifying part was that she was beginning to want the man holding the key.
