The crystal water glass exploded against the bedroom wall thirty seconds after Claire Donovan walked into the Moretti mansion. “GET HER OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

The cool ocean air hit Claire’s face the moment they stepped out onto the stone patio. Below the cliffside estate, the dark Atlantic waves crashed rhythmically against the black rocks, spraying mist into the night air.

Claire wrapped her navy cardigan tighter around her shoulders, leaning against the stone balcony railing.

Dominic walked up beside her, resting his large forearms against the stone, looking out at the dark horizon.

“My father offered to double your annual salary if you stay on as his permanent private care director,” Dominic said quietly.

Claire looked at him, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I know. He told me before dinner.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him I’m an ER nurse,” Claire replied, looking out at the ocean. “I belong in trauma units, helping people who have nowhere else to go. Private care in a North Shore mansion isn't my real life, Dominic.”

Dominic turned his head, staring at her profile under the pale moonlight. “And what if I asked you to stay?”

Claire paused, turning her head to meet his dark, intense gaze. Her heart did a strange, fluttering flip against her ribs.

“Dominic...” she began softly. “We come from two completely different worlds. You run a shadowy corporate empire. People write urban legends about your family in the newspapers. I’m just a girl from South Boston who pays off hospital bills and works twelve-hour shifts.”

“Do you think I care about any of that?” Dominic asked, stepping closer to her, closing the space between them until she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

He reached out, his long fingers gently catching her chin, tilting her face up so she was forced to look directly into his eyes.

“For five years,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a deep, velvety register, “I have been surrounded by people who only want something from me. My money, my power, my protection, or my death. Every person who walked into my life was wearing a mask.”

His thumb lightly stroked her lower lip, sending a thrill of heat racing through her veins.

“Then you walked into my father’s bedroom,” Dominic continued softly. “You didn't care about my name. You didn't flinch when glasses were smashed. You stood up to a poisoner, faced down a loaded gun, and saved my father's life without asking for a single dollar in return.”

Claire’s breath hitched in her throat. “Dominic...”

“I’m done letting you be just a nurse in this house, Claire,” Dominic whispered, his face descending toward hers. “I want you in my life. Unconditionally.”

Before Claire could formulate an answer, Dominic brought his lips down onto hers.

The kiss was slow, deep, and overwhelming—a masterful blend of fierce possession and intense, aching tenderness. Claire let out a soft gasp against his mouth, her hands instinctively rising to wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling in the short, dark hair at the nape of his neck.

The world around them—the ocean, the mansion, the lingering danger—seemed to melt away into the cool night air, leaving only the heat of his touch and the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart beating against her chest.

When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead gently against hers, both of them were breathing heavily.

Dominic rested his hands on her waist, looking down at her with an intensity that made her feel entirely seen, protected, and cherished.

“Stay,” Dominic whispered against her lips. “Not as my father’s nurse. As my equal.”

Claire looked up into the dark eyes of the most feared man in Massachusetts, seeing only the man who had risked everything to protect his family—and her.

She smiled, a warm, radiant expression that lit up the moonlit night.

“On one condition,” Claire murmured softly.

Dominic raised an eyebrow, a smirk touching his lips. “Name it.”

“You learn how to play chess,” Claire said. “Because your father is terrible at it, and I need a real opponent.”