Chapter 4 - The Lion Protects His Own
Roman stared at the glowing screen for three seconds. He didn't panic. His mind
shifted instantly into the cold, calculated precision of a war general. He
dialed Dante. "Code Black," Roman said without greeting. "Intruders on the
estate grounds. Seal the perimeter. Move Claire into the second-floor vault
suite immediately." "Understood," Dante responded, the sound of a firearm
chambering a round clicking through the receiver.
Roman took the back service stairs two at a time, moving silently toward his
private quarters. When he pushed through the reinforced doors of his master
bedroom, Claire was awake. She had been propped up against a mountain of
pillows, wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket. Her skin was still pale, but a
delicate touch of warmth had returned to her cheeks. When she saw Roman enter,
her large, expressive eyes widened with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Mr.
DeLuca..." she whispered, trying to pull the blanket higher to cover her bare
shoulders. "I... I'm so sorry about your sheets. I need to get up. The dinner—"
"Stop," Roman said softly, crossing the room in three long strides. He sat on
the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight. "You are not getting
up," he murmured, his voice softening in a way that would have stunned his
underworld associates. "And you will never apologize to me again for anything
that happened tonight."
Claire looked down at her bandaged hands. "Ms. Mercer... she said if I didn't
find the bottle, my sister Lily would be evicted from Harbor Ridge. Lily can't
walk, Mr. DeLuca. Without the therapy, her spine..." Claire's voice broke. She
covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent, exhausted
sobs. Roman couldn't stop himself. He reached out, sliding his strong arms
around her trembling body, pulling her gently against his chest. Claire
stiffened for a second, shocked by the embrace of the most feared man in the
state, but the sheer warmth of him—and the absolute safety she felt in his
arms—broke her defenses. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her
tears soaking his collar. "I have men already stationed outside your sister’s
medical center in Connecticut," Roman whispered into her hair, his hand
smoothing over her back with steady, rhythmic comfort. "Nobody will touch her.
Her care is paid for life, Claire. Hear me. For life."
May you like
Claire pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his dark, intense face. "Why?
Why would you do that for me? I'm just..." "You are not 'just' anything," Roman
said, his thumb gently catching a stray tear on her cheek. "I have watched you
endure cruelty with grace for two years. I have watched you protect everyone
around you while nobody protected you." He leaned in closer, his gaze burning
into hers. "That ends tonight."
Claire's breath caught in her throat. The air between them suddenly felt thick
with an undeniable, intoxicating electricity. Before either of them could speak,
every light in the mansion flickered once, twice, and died. Complete,
impenetrable darkness swallowed the room. Outside, the howling wind battered the
glass. And from the grand foyer downstairs came the sharp, distinct sound of
shattered glass followed by the muffled thwip-thwip of suppressed automatic
gunfire.
