Chapter 6 - The Unspoken Line
Twenty minutes later, the bakery was silent again. Roman’s men had swept away the broken porcelain, scrubbed the floor, and posted two armed guards outside the front and back doors.
Upstairs in the office, Lily was sipping tea, monitored closely by Frankie, while Roman stood in the main kitchen, leaning against the stainless-steel prep table with his eyes closed.
Clare walked in carrying two damp towels. She stood in front of him, reaching up to wipe a smear of dark dirt from his cheekbone.
Roman’s eyes snapped open. He caught her wrist, holding it gently.
“You shouldn't have been put in danger,” Roman said, his voice raw with guilt. “This is why I keep people away. This is why I didn't want... anyone getting close.”
“I can take care of myself, Roman,” Clare said softly, not pulling her hand away. “I had the rolling pin.”
A faint, breathless laugh escaped Roman’s lips. “You were actually going to hit him.”
“I was going to smash his knee into gravy,” Clare corrected him deadpan. “No one threatens my shop, and no one comes near Lily.”
Roman looked down at her, his dark eyes brimming with an emotion so deep, so intense, that Clare felt her pulse leap into her throat. He lowered his hand from her wrist, his fingers sliding down to gently touch her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured.
Clare’s breath hitched. She was used to being called 'strong', 'capable', or 'hardworking'. But the way Roman said 'incredible'—as if she were a miracle he couldn't quite believe he had found—made her knees feel dangerously soft.
“Roman,” she whispered, her hands resting against his solid chest. “We said this was fake.”
“It was never fake for me,” Roman confessed quietly, leaning down until his forehead rested against hers. The scent of cedar, expensive coffee, and faint gunpowder clung to him, but beneath it was just Roman—the man who cared for an orphan girl and bought coffee he didn't like just to see Clare smile. “From the second you threw that flour at me, Clare... there has never been anyone else.”
Clare looked up into his eyes, her heart pounding like a drum. “Roman, your world is dangerous. My world is flour and sugar.”
“My world is empty without you,” he replied smoothly. “I can protect you from Moretti. I can protect you from the city. But I can’t protect myself from wanting you every single second of the day.”
Before Clare could reply, Lily’s footsteps echoed down the wooden stairs.
May you like
“Uncle Roman?” Lily called out. “Frankie says we have to leave now.”
Roman reluctantly pulled back, though his eyes lingered on Clare’s lips for a long, agonizing second. He stepped back, straightening his shirt collar, returning to the formidable mob boss—but the look he gave Clare before walking out the back door told her everything had changed.
