The Clumsy Maid Took a Blow Meant for a Mafia Queen, and What Her Son Did Next Terrified Everyone

Over the next two weeks, the Rossi mansion transformed from a cold, quiet fortress into a home filled with warmth and life.

Skylar settled into her role as Carmela’s chief companion with natural ease. Together, they spent hours in the conservatory, repotting rare orchids, baking traditional Italian pastries in the main kitchen, and listening to classical records in the sitting room.

Carmela’s health improved dramatically. The constant presence of Skylar’s patience and calm energy reduced her anxiety, making her memory lapses less frequent and far less frightening when they did occur.

Meanwhile, Dominic made a point of spending his evenings at home rather than at his downtown offices.

Every night at seven, Dominic, Carmela, and Skylar sat together in the formal dining room for dinner—a room where Skylar had once served food from silver trays, now sitting at the head table as an equal.

One evening, after Carmela had retired to her room, Skylar walked out onto the second-floor balcony to look at the moonlit gardens.

The cool autumn breeze blew gently, making her shiver slightly in her cardigan.

Suddenly, a warm weight settled over her shoulders. Dominic had walked up behind her, placing his heavy suit jacket over her back.

"You'll catch a cold," Dominic said softly, stepping up to stand beside her at the stone railing.

"Thank you," Skylar smiled, wrapping the warm, woodsy-scented jacket around herself. "It's a beautiful night."

"It is," Dominic agreed, though his eyes weren't looking at the garden—they were fixed entirely on her profile.

Skylar felt her heart flutter. "I visited my father at the hospital today."

"How is he doing?"

"The doctors said his kidney function has stabilized significantly because of the new trial treatment," Skylar said, her eyes brimming with tears of gratitude. "He was sitting up, eating real food, and laughing. He told me to thank you with everything I have."

She turned to face Dominic, looking up into his dark, handsome face. "I can never repay you for what you did for my dad, Dominic. You saved his life."

"You saved my mother, Skylar," Dominic said softly, reaching out to take her hand. "Consider us even."

"It doesn't feel even," Skylar murmured.

"Then let me make it uneven again," Dominic whispered, stepping closer, closing the distance between them.

Skylar's breath hitched as his other hand came up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb gently brushing against her chin.

"Dominic..." she whispered.

"Tell me to stop if you don't want this," Dominic whispered against her lips.

Skylar didn't tell him to stop. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and closed her eyes.

Dominic leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss was slow, deep, and intoxicatingly tender. It was filled with months of unspoken appreciation, growing desire, and a profound, protective devotion.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, Skylar felt as though she were floating.