Chapter 7 - Loving a Dangerous Man Was Not the Same as Belonging to HimThree months later, Nema moved out of Dom’s penthouse.
He took it badly.
Not dramatically.
Dom Vasquez did very little dramatically.
He simply stood in the doorway while two movers carried boxes into the elevator.
“You already have an apartment.”
“It’s your apartment.”
“You live there.”
“You own it.”
“That distinction seems unnecessarily philosophical.”
Nema smiled.
“I found my own place.”
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Leo knows.”
“Leo works for me.”
“Leo likes me better.”
From the hallway, Leo said, “I’m staying out of this.”
Dom looked betrayed.
Nema laughed.
It was the first time she had laughed that freely in months.
Bianke remained in federal custody.
The ledger had triggered investigations across Illinois.
Three judges resigned.
Two police commanders were indicted.
Businesses collapsed.
Politicians suddenly discovered urgent reasons to retire.
Dom’s organization had also changed.
He had spent months separating legitimate businesses from criminal operations.
Not because Nema demanded it.
She had made one thing clear.
She would not become his conscience.
If he wanted another life, he had to choose it.
Just as she had chosen hers.
Nema used part of the original $50,000 to enroll in business courses.
She invested another portion.
The rest remained untouched.
She never accepted the $5 million.
Instead, she did something nobody expected.
She bought Frank’s Diner.
The old owner retired.
Nema renovated it.
New floors.
New kitchen.
Better wages.
Health insurance.
A scholarship fund for employees.
She kept the old jukebox.
Some history deserved remembering.
Six months after the night she spilled Dom’s coffee, Frank’s reopened.
The line stretched around the block.
At 2:03 a.m., after the last customer left, Nema sat alone in the same booth where everything began.
A cup of black coffee sat opposite her.
The bell above the entrance rang.
Dom entered.
No guards.
No expensive overcoat.
Just jeans, a dark sweater, and exhaustion.
Nema looked at the clock.
“We’re closed.”
“I know the owner.”
“She’s difficult.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He sat opposite her.
Nema pushed the coffee toward him.
Dom looked at it suspiciously.
“Safe?”
“Probably.”
“Comforting.”
He drank.
Nema watched him.
“How was your meeting?”
“Legal.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Dom smiled.
“Very legal.”
“Progress.”
He reached across the table.
His fingers touched hers.
“I miss you.”
Nema looked at him.
“You saw me yesterday.”
“Twenty-seven hours ago.”
“That sounds medically survivable.”
“Barely.”
She smiled.
Their relationship had become strange.
They did not live together.
They did not pretend Dom’s past had disappeared.
They argued.
Often.
Sometimes Nema slept at his house.
Sometimes he slept at hers.
He hated her apartment’s unreliable elevator.
She hated his security protocols.
But something between them worked because neither demanded ownership.
Dom had learned that protecting Nema did not mean controlling her.
Nema had learned that loving Dom did not require becoming blind to who he was.
“I have something for you,” Dom said.
He placed a small envelope on the table.
Nema immediately became suspicious.
“If this contains apartment keys, money, jewelry, property deeds, or another passport, I’m throwing it into the fryer.”
“It doesn’t.”
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena Reyes.
Her mother.
Young.
Laughing.
Standing beside Rafael Vasquez.
Nema stared.
“Where did you find this?”
“My mother.”
Nema looked up.
“She knew Elena?”
“Apparently.”
Dom leaned back.
“My mother kept photographs from the old days.”
Nema turned the picture over.
Writing covered the back.
Elena and Rafael.
Still arguing about whether coffee should be considered a food group.
Nema laughed softly.
Then cried.
Dom moved beside her.
He did not tell her not to cry.
He simply remained there.
Eventually Nema rested her head against his shoulder.
“My mother would have hated you.”
“Probably.”
“She hated arrogant men.”
“Understandable.”
“She also hated expensive cars.”
“That feels unreasonable.”
Nema smiled through tears.
Then the bell above the diner rang.
Leo entered.
His expression told them immediately that something was wrong.
Dom stood.
“What?”
Leo placed a phone on the table.
“There’s been an incident.”
“Where?”
“The courthouse.”
Nema’s stomach tightened.
Bianke’s preliminary hearing had been scheduled that morning.
“What happened?”
Leo looked at her.
“Arthur Bianke was attacked during transport.”
Dom’s face hardened.
“Dead?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He escaped.”
Silence.
Nema slowly stood.
“How?”
“Inside help.”
Of course.
The ledger had exposed corruption.
It had not removed all of it.
Bianke still had friends.
Dom reached for his coat.
Nema grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“We already did this.”
“He’s coming for you.”
“Then we prepare.”
“Nema—”
“No disappearing.”
Her voice hardened.
“No mountain lodge. No London. No cage.”
Dom stared at her.
“What do you suggest?”
Nema looked around the diner.
At the place where the story had begun.
Then she looked at Leo.
“Find out who helped him escape.”
Leo nodded.
“And Dom?”
“Yes?”
May you like
She picked up her coat.
“This time we finish it together.”
