Chapter 6 - The Turning Tide
By morning, the storm had cleared, leaving behind a world blinded by pristine white snow.
Dominic sat in his bedroom armchair while Meline carefully extracted tiny slivers of glass from his palms using tweezers and a bottle of iodine. She was working by the light of the window, her hands steady, her expression focused.
Dominic watched her—not with his eyes, but with his heightened senses. He could hear the tiny, rhythmic catching of her breath whenever she pulled a particularly stubborn fragment. He could feel the soft heat of her breath against his knuckles.
"Mrs. Gable was in the hallway this morning," Dominic said, his voice quiet, steady again. "She was muttering about the broken glass."
Meline tapped his wrist once to acknowledge him.
"I fired her," Dominic said flatly.
Meline paused, the tweezers hovering over his palm.
"I called the domestic agency from the desk phone down the hall while you were bringing up the clean bandages," Dominic explained, a cold, sharp edge returning to his tone. "I informed them that Gable has been embezzling household funds and neglecting her duties. She and her cronies have two hours to clear off my property. A snowplow is on its way up the mountain now."
Meline set the tweezers down. She picked up a strip of white gauze and began wrapping his hand with practiced efficiency.
"You're going to need a new head of staff," Dominic said, leaning forward. "Someone who actually keeps this estate running. Someone who knows how to keep order."
He reached out, his newly bandaged hand finding her chin, tilting her face toward his.
"I want you to run the house, Meline."
Meline stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. She shook her head, pulling back slightly. She pointed to her throat, then made a gesture for 'no.'
"You don't need a voice to command respect," Dominic said, his thumb brushing her bottom lip gently. "You commanded mine without speaking a single word. I will double your salary. I will hire three new girls from the city who report directly to you. No one will ever disrespect you in this house again."
Meline looked at his broad, scarred face. The hopeless, dying hollow in his eyes had vanished. In its place was something dangerous, something dark—and deeply, intensely focused on her.
She took his hand from her chin, brought it down to her lap, and wrote on his palm with her finger.
Why me?
May you like
Dominic closed his fingers over the palm where she had written, trapping her words inside his fist.
"Because you were the only person in the world who treated me like a man when I was nothing but a broken corpse," he whispered.
