Chapter 2 - The Iron Chain
The quiet library basement seemed to shrink until there was nothing left inside it except the sound of Maddie’s rapid breathing and the heavy, suffocating warmth of Dominic’s hand resting against her bump.
Maddie tried to pull back, but the wooden shelf behind her offered no escape.
“Don’t touch me,” she breathed, trying to push his wrist away. Her small fingers could do nothing against the solid iron of his forearm. “You chose Serafina. You sat in your office seventy-two floors up and told her I would be 'dealt with quietly.' I heard you, Dominic. I stood outside your door.”
Dominic didn't remove his hand. If anything, his grip grew firmer, his thumb sweeping over the wool of her sweater in a rhythmic, obsessive arc.
“You heard ten seconds of a conversation designed to keep a sociopath from looking in your direction,” Dominic said, his dark eyes burning into hers. “Serafina DeLuca’s father has four hit squads sitting in Cook County. If he knew I was seeing a civilian—if he knew I loved a civilian—you would have been dead before the week ended.”
Maddie’s throat tightened, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Love? You call this love? Tracing my phone, tracking my bank records, hunting me like a fugitive?”
“I didn't trace your phone,” Dominic growled softly. “You threw it away. I traced the watermark on a nineteenth-century manuscript sold to an auction house in Providence three days ago. Only one woman on the East Coast knows how to identify a 1842 cotton-rag press without damaging the spine.”
He stepped closer, pressing her body gently between the wooden stacks and his massive frame.
“You’re coming home, Madeline.”
“I don't have a home in Chicago anymore,” she spat back, her eyes flashing with defiance. “My home is here. In this room. Under a name you don't control.”
Dominic turned his head slightly toward the door. “Gabe. Bring the car around to the alley entrance. Make sure the street is clear.”
One of the suited men nodded once and slipped out through the side exit.
“I’m not getting into a car with you, Dominic,” Maddie warned, her voice rising in panic. “This is a public archive! I will scream!”
“Scream then,” Dominic said calmly, reaching into his coat and pulling out a soft, dark velvet cloak. He wrapped it around her shoulders, gently pulling her arms into the sleeves before buttoning the silver clasp beneath her chin. “Tell the police that Dominic Valente is taking his pregnant wife home. See how quickly they step out of my way.”
“Wife?” Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. “We aren't married!”
Dominic leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver straight down her spine.
“The paperwork was filed in Cook County six weeks ago, Madeline,” he whispered. “You signed a power-of-attorney document when we opened the River North gallery account last year. I converted it into a civil union registry the day after you disappeared.”
Maddie stared at him in utter disbelief, her mind spinning. “You... you forged a marriage?”
“I secured my family,” Dominic corrected, his voice flat, final, and absolute. “I let you run for eleven weeks because I needed to wipe out the DeLuca alliance without starting a three-front war. Now DeLuca is in federal custody, Serafina is on a plane back to Palermo, and my city is clear.”
He hooked his arm under her knees and lifted her off her feet before she could scream.
Maddie gasped, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck to keep from falling. His coat smelled of winter rain and the expensive leather of his private jet.
May you like
“Put me down!” she demanded, hitting his chest with her fist.
“Not a chance, sweetheart,” Dominic murmured, carrying her out through the side exit toward a waiting black armored SUV idling in the damp alley. “You’ve spent four months sleeping in a cold basement. For the next five months, you don't step foot on the ground unless I’m holding you.”
