Chapter 7 - The Blood Bond
Morning broke over Lake Michigan in a sharp, blinding sheen of silver and ice.
I woke up on the massive leather sofa in the library, wrapped in a heavy cashmere blanket that smelled of Victor’s sandalwood cologne. The fire in the stone hearth had burned down to glowing red embers, casting a soft, warm light across the towering bookshelves that lined the walls.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
Standing near the tall french doors that led out onto the stone patio overlooking the crashing waves of the lake was Victor. He was wearing a simple dark gray turtleneck sweater and black trousers, holding a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.
He turned as he heard me move, a soft, genuine smile spreading across his face—a smile that looked entirely natural on him now.
“Good morning,” he said softly, walking over to hand me a second mug of coffee. “Did you sleep?”
“Better than I have in months,” I admitted, taking a sip of the rich, hot coffee. “What time is it?”
“7:30 a.m.,” Victor said, sitting on the edge of the low oak coffee table in front of me. “I’ve already spoken to the dean of nursing at Loyola.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “You did what?”
“I told her you were assisting me with a private medical research logistics project for the Morgan Foundation,” Victor said evenly, a glint of quiet amusement in his gray eyes. “She gave you an excused absence for the next three days. Your grades are secure, Aaliyah.”
I stared at him, half-furious and half-amazed. “You can’t just call the dean of my university and make up stories, Victor!”
“I didn't make up stories,” he replied smoothly. “I made a two-million-dollar donation to their clinical simulation wing fifteen minutes ago. The dean was remarkably flexible with her attendance policy.”
I shook my head, a helpless laugh bubbling up in my throat. “You are impossible.”
“I am thorough,” he corrected gently.
The light mood vanished a second later when the heavy double doors of the library opened, and Thomas stepped into the room. His face was grim, his eyes tired.
“Sir,” Thomas said, bowing his head slightly. “The council has convened at the Drake Hotel. Dominic Moretti is demanding an emergency meeting.”
Victor’s demeanor shifted instantly. The warm, gentle man sitting on the coffee table vanished, replaced in a split second by the cold, calculating patriarch of the Morgan Syndicate.
“Did he admit to the Wabash shooting?” Victor asked, his voice dropping into that dangerous, smooth register.
“He claims it was a rogue crew from the West Side,” Thomas replied sneeringly. “He says he wants to offer compensation to avoid a full territory war. But my contacts say he’s moving twenty men into the Loop as we speak.”
Victor stood up slowly, settling his shoulders. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through a brief series of messages.
“Dominic is getting sloppy,” Victor murmured coldly. “He thinks because I’ve been quiet for twelve years, I’ve grown soft. He thinks I’m an old man waiting to die in this house.”
He looked down at me, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race.
“Stay here today, Aaliyah,” Victor instructed, his tone firm yet gentle. “Thomas and six men will remain on the estate grounds. You have the library, the kitchen, and full access to the house. I will return by six o'clock.”
I stood up, letting the cashmere blanket fall to my feet. I walked over to him, reaching out to grasp the collar of his dark sweater.
“Victor,” I said quietly, looking up into his eyes. “Be careful.”
Victor looked at my hand on his chest, then reached up, wrapping his large fingers over mine. He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against the inside of my palm—right over the small, faint pink scar where the broken glass had cut me weeks ago.
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“Twelve years ago, I had nothing left to lose,” Victor whispered against my skin, his breath hot and sweet. “Now, I have you. I am not going anywhere, Aaliyah.”
He turned and walked out of the library, his heavy boots clicking against the hardwood floorboards, leaving me alone in the vast, quiet house with the sound of the roaring lake outside.
