Chapter 7 - THE RECOVERY OF THE HEART
Over the next two weeks, the dynamic at DeLuca House shifted entirely.
Claire was no longer permitted to work as a server. When she protested, insisting she needed to earn her keep, Roman simply appointed her as his personal administrative coordinator—a role that allowed her to stay close to him, organizing his private schedule, managing the estate’s charitable contributions, and working from a bright, warm office adjacent to his private study.
The staff treated her not with jealousy, but with genuine affection and respect. They had all witnessed how she had been targeted by Vivian, and they all saw how the cold, unapproachable Roman DeLuca looked at her when he thought no one was paying attention.
He looked at her like she was the only precious thing in his dark world.
One evening in mid-January, a fresh blanket of gentle snowfall was falling outside.
Claire was sitting in the estate's glass conservatory, wrapped in a soft cashmere shawl Roman had given her, reading a book by the light of a small floor lamp. The room was warm, filled with exotic tropical plants and the soothing sound of a small marble fountain.
The heavy door opened, and Roman walked in. He looked tired, carrying the weight of managing his vast empire, but the moment his eyes fell on Claire, the hard lines on his face softened instantly.
"You're up late," Roman said, walking over and sitting on the bench beside her.
"I couldn't sleep," Claire admitted, closing her book. "I was just watching the snow."
Roman looked out at the dark garden, his posture relaxing. "Does it make you afraid? After what happened?"
Claire looked down at her hands, then offered a small, soft smile. "It used to. For the first few days, every time I heard the wind, I felt like I was back in that white void. But then... then I remember your voice."
Roman turned his head, looking at her intently. "My voice?"
"You said, 'Stay with me,'" Claire whispered, her cheeks flushing warm. "You carried me. Whenever I think about that night now, I don't think about the cold. I think about how safe I felt when you held me."
Roman’s breath caught in his throat.
He reached out, his long fingers gently touching her jaw, tilting her face up toward his. Claire’s heart hammered furiously against her ribs, but she didn't pull away. She looked into his dark, intense eyes, seeing past the feared mob boss, seeing the lonely, protective man who had saved her life.
"Claire," Roman murmured, his thumb lightly stroking her lower lip. "I have spent my whole life surrounded by people who want something from me. My power, my money, my protection. But you... you look at me like I'm just a man."
"You are a good man, Roman," Claire said softly, using his first name for the first time. "A man who saved me."
Roman couldn't restrain himself any longer. He leaned down, capturing her soft lips with his own in a kiss that was deep, possessive, yet extraordinarily gentle.
Claire let out a soft sigh, her arms rising naturally to wrap around his neck, pulling herself close against his broad chest. The kiss ignited a sudden, powerful warmth within her—a fire that completely erased the lingering trauma of the icy blizzard.
When Roman finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his eyes burning with an undeniable devotion.
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"I love you, Claire," Roman whispered against her forehead, holding her tightly against his heart. "Not as a maid. Not as an employee. As the woman I want by my side for the rest of my life."
Claire buried her face in the crook of his neck, tears of pure happiness slipping down her cheeks. "I love you too, Roman. So much."
