Chapter 2 - The Letter in the Dark
The air in the wine cellar turned thick enough to choke on. The clicking of the high heels paused near the top of the stone stairs, hovering in the shadow of the open archway.
"Dominic?" the woman’s voice called down again, smoother this time, laced with a artificial, honeyed concern that made the hair on the back of Harper’s neck stand up. "It’s so dark down there. Is she alright?"
Dominic didn’t answer. He didn't even look toward the staircase.
His gloved fingers unfolded the small square of paper that had fallen from the stuffed rabbit’s split seam. The brass key glinted dully on the damp floor beside his polished leather shoe.
Harper held her breath, her arms locked tight around Emma. The little girl’s face remained buried in her shoulder, her tiny body trembling so violently Harper could feel the rhythm of her racing heart. Mommy. The word still echoed in Harper’s ears, sharp and surreal, heavy with a weight she didn't understand. She had never seen this child before tonight. She was just a twenty-four-year-old waitress working a double shift at L’Atelier to cover her rent, dragged into a war zone by the sound of gunfire in a rain-drenched alley.
Dominic read the handwriting on the paper.
Harper watched his face. The cold, impenetrable mask he wore didn't break, but his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched beneath his tan skin. His dark eyes flicked up from the page, landing directly on Harper’s face with terrifying intensity.
The handwriting on the note was elegant, slightly slanted, written in dark blue ink.
If you are reading this, Dominic, then I am dead, and our enemies are inside our home. Do not look for answers in the places we built together. Look to the woman who holds Emma when the storm breaks. Her name is Harper Lane. I gave her the key three years before we ever met. Trust her, Dominic. She is the only reason our daughter will survive.
Dominic’s thumb dragged slowly across the ink of Harper’s name.
"Boss?" the enforcer standing to Dominic’s left whispered, his hand tightening on the grip of his silenced pistol. "Is that Julianna on the stairs?"
"Hold the stairs," Dominic commanded. His voice was low, gravelly, vibrating with a lethal quiet that caused the armed men lining the cellar walls to instantly shift into tactical formation. Three men melted into the shadows near the wine racks, guns raised toward the stairwell.
The woman’s heels began to descend again, echoing against the wet stone.
"Dominic, darling," the voice drifted closer. Julianna stepped into the dim amber light of the cellar's entrance hanging lantern. She was wrapped in a floor-length mink coat, her dark hair pinned in a flawless, sleek chignon, unaffected by the torrential rain raging outside. But her eyes—sharp, icy blue—swept the room with calculated precision, landing first on the bleeding child, and then, with venomous shock, on Harper.
Julianna’s breath hitched slightly, a microscopic break in her composure. "Oh, thank God. You found her." She took a step forward, reaching out a slender, gloved hand toward Emma. "Sweetheart, come to Aunt Julianna. You’re safe now."
Emma didn't look up. Instead, her tiny fingers dug deeper into the fabric of Harper's damp waitress uniform, a tiny, choked gasp escaping her throat.
"Stay where you are, Julianna," Dominic said without turning his head.
Julianna froze, her hand hovering in the damp air. A hurt expression flickered across her features, perfectly rehearsed. "Dominic? What is the meaning of this? I’ve been frantic. When the gunshots broke out at the estate, I thought..." Her eyes darted down to the paper in Dominic’s hand, then to the brass key resting near his boot. Her pupils dilated slightly. "Who is this girl? Why is she holding Emma?"
"She’s the reason my daughter is breathing," Dominic said coldly. He bent down, picked up the tiny brass key, and slipped both the key and the note into the inner pocket of his black coat.
He stepped closer to Harper, towering over her. The scent of rain, expensive tobacco, and gun oil washed over her. He reached down, his large, calloused hand hovering near Emma’s back.
"Emma," Dominic said softly, the lethal edge in his tone softening into something raw and aching. "Look at me, little bird."
The child didn't move. She remained locked against Harper's neck, her chest heaving in silent, shuddering breaths.
"She's terrified," Harper whispered, her voice trembling, though she forced herself to hold Dominic's dark gaze. "She's bleeding. Her leg... a piece of flying glass caught her when the alley windows shattered."
Dominic’s eyes dropped to the tear in Emma’s yellow tights, where dark red blood was soaking into the fabric. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Marco," Dominic growled.
"Sir," the enforcer beside him responded instantly.
"Secure the perimeter. No one leaves this restaurant. No one talks to the press." Dominic looked back down at Harper, his eyes locked onto hers with a possessive, unyielding weight. "And bring the car to the rear alley."
"Dominic, wait!" Julianna insisted, taking a hurried step toward them, her mink coat swishing against the wet floor. "You can't trust a stranger! We don't know who she is! She could be working for the Moretti family! She could have staged the whole rescue!"
Dominic turned his head slowly, looking at Julianna over his shoulder. "She saved my daughter while my own security detail failed, Julianna. And my wife wrote her name on a piece of paper thirteen months ago."
Julianna went deathly still. Her face drained of color, the red lipstick on her lips standing out like fresh blood. "What... what did you say?"
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Dominic didn't answer her. He reached down, slipping one long, powerful arm under Harper’s knees and his other hand behind her back, lifting both Harper and the child into his arms in one effortless motion.
Harper gasped, her instinctual reaction to fight back instantly smothered by the sight of armed guards surrounding them. She clutched Emma tighter against her chest as Dominic carried them both out of the dark wine cellar, stepping past a frozen, pale Julianna, and heading straight into the storm waiting outside.
