Chapter 8 - The Master Suite
The kiss was hot, fierce, and full of four months of suppressed hunger.
Gabriel pulled her body flush against his chest, his hands sliding into her soft hair, holding her like she was the only real thing in a world made of glass and smoke. Vera let out a soft sigh against his mouth, her hands gripping his broad shoulders, pulling him closer, melting into the heat of his touch.
There was no boss and maid in that bathroom. There was no mafia king and poor orphan. There was only a man who had spent his whole life surrounded by monsters, and a woman who had spent her life surrounded by ghosts, finally finding a home in the dark.
Gabriel broke the kiss slowly, resting his forehead against hers, his ragged breath warm against her skin.
"You're soaking wet," he murmured, his hands gently undoing the zipper at the back of her navy blue dress.
He peeled the wet fabric down her shoulders, treating her with a reverent care that contrasted sharply with his lethal hands. He wrapped her in a thick, warm cashmere robe from his closet, tying the belt softly around her small waist.
He lifted her again, carrying her out of the bathroom and placing her in the center of his massive bed. He pulled the heavy duvet over her legs, then sat on the edge of the mattress, holding her warm hand in his.
Vera looked around the master suite. "I'm making your sheets dirty."
Gabriel let out a low, rough chuckle. "Vera, if you burn this entire house to the ground tonight, I'll buy you another one tomorrow."
A knock came at the bedroom door. Dante stepped inside, his expression serious.
"Doctor's here, boss. And we have a situation with the Moretti family."
Gabriel’s face hardened, the killer returning to his eyes in an instant. He looked back at Vera, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "I'll be right back."
"Gabriel," Vera called out as he stood up.
He stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder.
"Be careful," she said softly.
A faint, breathtaking smile touched the corner of Gabriel’s lips—a smile she had never seen on his face before. "I have something to come back to now."
Downstairs in the private study, the house physician quickly checked Vera over, confirming she had no chemical burns or serious injuries, merely mild shock.
Meanwhile, Gabriel stood behind his heavy oak desk, listening to Dante’s report.
"The Moretti patriarch, Donato, authorized the strike," Dante said, setting a encrypted phone on the desk. "He thought you were soft because of the port dispute. He didn't expect you to execute sixteen of his men in the driveway."
Gabriel picked up his glass of scotch, taking a slow sip.
"Donato Moretti has been a stain on this city for twenty years," Gabriel said, his voice flat and icy. "He tried to burn my home. He put her in danger."
Gabriel set the glass down with a heavy thud.
"Call a meeting of the Five Families," Gabriel ordered. "Tomorrow morning at six A.M. Tell them Donato Moretti is retiring. And tell them if anyone has an objection, they can discuss it with me in person."
"Understood, boss," Dante nodded. "And what about Mr. Sullivan? The guy from the restaurant?"
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Gabriel paused, thinking of the arrogant accountant who had looked at Vera like she was second-rate trash.
"Audit his firm," Gabriel said coldly. "Buy his mortgage. And make sure he never gets a table at a decent restaurant in Boston again."
