Chapter 5 - The Shattered Dawn
A sharp, metallic chime echoed through the study.
"Lockdown sequence terminated," the automated voice announced. "Perimeter secure. Unlocking blast shutters."
With a loud, motorized groan, the heavy steel shutters over the large arched windows began to rise, slowly allowing the pale, crisp light of the November dawn to flood into the room. Across the entrance, the iron security gate slid back into the wall casing with a heavy click.
Damian’s eyes snapped open.
He was instantly alert, his mind clearing of pain and sleep in a fraction of a second. The deep, dull ache in his left flank reminded him of the gunshot wound, but the bandages held firm, tight, and dry.
Then, he felt the weight resting against his chest.
Damian looked down.
Hazel was still asleep in his arms. Her small face was nestled softly against his shoulder, her pink lips slightly parted as she breathed in small, quiet rhythms. Her long, pale lashes cast delicate shadows across her cheeks. One of her hands was resting gently against his bare chest, her tiny fingers curled lightly near his heart.
Damian sat frozen, his breath catching in his throat.
They had slept together. For five hours, he had held a woman in his arms, sleeping as peacefully as a child, completely untouched by the dark nightmares that usually plagued his rest.
He looked at her small, fragile frame. She looked so defenseless, so sweet, wrapped up in his heavy embrace like she belonged there.
Footsteps echoed sharply down the corridor outside.
"Boss!" Marco’s loud voice bellowed as the heavy oak doors were pushed open. "The perimeter is clear! We took out four of Sullivan’s guys and—"
Marco froze mid-sentence, his jaw dropping so low it nearly hit his chest.
Two armed guards standing behind Marco stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wide with absolute, speechless horror.
There, on the executive leather sofa, sat the ruthless, untouched Don Damian Romano. His shirt was gone, his chest heavily bandaged—and he was currently cuddling the night maid, who was fast asleep in his arms.
The silence in the study was deafening.
Damian’s storm-gray eyes snapped up toward the doorway. The soft, gentle expression on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, terrifying glare that could wither steel.
"If any of you open your mouths," Damian said, his voice a low, lethal whisper that carried across the quiet room, "I will personally bury you beneath the north driveway."
Marco swallowed hard, his face turning pale. He instantly reached behind him, grabbed the collar of both guards, and shoved them out into the hallway, slamming the oak doors shut with a soft clack.
The sudden movement made Hazel stir.
She let out a soft, sleepy sigh, rubbing her face against Damian’s collarbone like a cozy kitten.
"Five more minutes, Mom..." she muttered incoherently.
A microscopic twitch appeared at the corner of Damian’s stern mouth. A faint, rare smile almost broke across his sharp features.
He reached down, his thumb gently brushing a stray strand of brown hair away from her warm forehead.
"Time to wake up, little mouse," Damian murmured softly near her ear.
Hazel blinked her eyes open.
The pale morning light hit her face. She looked up and met Damian’s intense gray eyes staring down at her from inches away. She felt his bare skin beneath her cheek, his strong arm wrapped around her waist, and the realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Hazel let out a squeak of terror, her eyes wide as saucers.
She scrambled backward so fast she nearly tumbled off the sofa, her hands fluttering frantically as she smoothed down her crumpled apron.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mr. Romano!" she gasped, her face turning bright red with intense embarrassment. "I fell asleep! I didn't mean to—you were heavy, and I couldn't move, and then I closed my eyes, and—"
"Hazel," Damian interrupted, his voice calm, heavy, and steady.
She stopped blabbering, looking at him with wide, terrified eyes, waiting for the execution order.
Damian slowly sat up on the sofa. He adjusted to the dull sting in his side, his broad chest gleaming in the morning light under his neat white bandages.
"You saved my life last night," Damian said quietly, looking directly into her eyes. "You packed my wound, sealed the bleeding, and stayed when you could have panicked."
"I... I just did what you told me to do," she stammered, holding her hands tightly in her lap.
Damian stood up. He walked slowly over to his massive mahogany desk, entirely unfazed by his lack of a shirt. He pulled open the middle drawer, pulled out a thick leather-bound checkbook and a sleek Montblanc pen, and wrote rapidly.
He ripped the slip of paper from the pad, walked back across the room, and held it out to her.
Hazel looked down at the paper.
It was a cashier's check made out to her name.
The amount read: $100,000.00.
Hazel’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook violently as she stared at the astronomical number.
"Mr. Romano... I can't take this," she whispered, looking up at him in shock. "This is... this is too much!"
"Sixty thousand to clear your debt with Frankie Sullivan," Damian said, his voice unyielding and cold as iron. "The remaining forty thousand is for your trouble. You will go home, you will call Sullivan, and you will pay off the debt today."
"I... I don't know what to say," Hazel sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How can I ever repay you?"
Damian stepped closer to her, closing the small distance between them until he was towering over her small frame.
He reached out, his long fingers gently cupping her soft jawline. His touch was warm, deliberate, and astonishingly tender.
Hazel didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, her hazel eyes searching his intense gray gaze.
"You already repaid me, Hazel," Damian whispered, his thumb lightly stroking her lower lip. "You proved to me that my skin isn't dead."
May you like
He lowered his hand slowly.
"Now go home, little mouse," Damian said, turning his back to her as he picked up a fresh shirt from his private closet. "My driver will take you. And do not worry about Frankie Sullivan ever again."
