We went from having hardly anywhere to sit to plentyof options. The place is finally starting to look like a real home, and it makes me wonder how Dominic survived for so long with the bare minimum. No real comfort, just walls and emptiness.
I even ducked out for a break today and picked up a few throw pillows that were on sale. It’s not much, but I hope he doesn’t mind me adding a little something of my own.
The walls are still bare, but in time, I might get to do something about that as well. If I’m there long enough that is.
Last night, we got to sit down at the dining table and have our first meal like a real family, not that we’re family, but it felt nice. Despite now having plenty of chairs, Lil’ Peach still chose to eat perched on Dominic’s lap.
There’s something truly special about their relationship, especially now that I know some of their backstory. It took every bit of strength I had not to burst into tears when Dominic opened up a little about his past.
Underneath all that gruff, he’s a good guy, and slowly, I’m starting to realise that moving in with him might not have been such a reckless mistake after all. I barely know him, yet he makes me feel safer than I have in a long time.
The lunch rush is finally over, so while it’s quiet, I use the time to wipe down all the tables and get them set for the dinner service. I’m lost in my own head, letting myself relax for the first time all day, when the front door suddenly swings open.
My head snaps up, and my heart drops the moment I see two of Mick’s bikie brothers from the Steel Reapers standing near the front counter.
One of their names is Razor; he’s the club’s enforcer. His leather jacket is patched with blood-red stitching emphasising the point, but it’s the menacing glare he’s shooting my way that makes my hands tremble. His fingersbrush the grip of the knife at his belt, slow and deliberate—a silent threat.
The other man is a stranger. He’s tall, broad, and moving with a predator’s calm. His dark eyes are also locked on me. They’re assessing and unreadable, as if he’s already deciding how this encounter will end.
My hands freeze on the cloth, my chest pounds, and a cold knot of fear tightens in my stomach. I force myself to keep moving, to act normal, but my mind races. Did Mick send them here to force me back home?
That thought makes bile rise to the back of my throat. I have no idea why they’d visit me, but one thing is clear; they’re not here for the food.
I pull back my shoulders, clear my throat, and begrudgingly start moving towards them. When I finally find my voice, I’m going to make sure whatever I say will be loud enough for Massimo to hear in the kitchen.
My gaze briefly flickers to the cutout as I pass, and I feel a tinge of relief when I find Massimo slightly bent forward, glaring in the direction of the two bikies.
“Can I help you?” I hear myself ask, stopping a few metres from them. I’m not stupid enough to get within grabbing distance.
“Don’t play dumb with us, bitch,” the guy I don’t recognise growls. “Where is he?”
I gasp at his harsh words. Until I met Mick, nobody had ever talked to me that harshly before. “Where is who?” I ask. Are they looking for Dominic?
“Muzzle,” Razor snarls, taking a step towards me.
I rear back slightly. Why would they be looking for Mick? And then my stomach drops. Has he fled? Did Dominic do something to him?
“Mick? I-I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to us, Emily,” Razor says in an eerily calm voice as he takes another step towards me. I flinch when hereaches for a lock of my hair and rubs it between his fingers. “You live with the man, although I’m not sure why. I’ve always thought you could do better.”
“I-I don’t know where he is,” I stammer. “I moved out days ago.”
“Why?” he asks as his eyes skim suspiciously over my face, and I know he sees the bruises still visible through the makeup. Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to.
His eyes linger on the fading marks, and something sharp flickers behind them. It’s not sympathy, it’s more like calculation.
He leans in closer, his rank breath brushing over my cheek as he speaks. His voice remains controlled, but there’s a clear threat behind his words. “Emily, I need you to think very carefully. Muzzle has something of ours, and we want it back. If you’re hiding or covering for him, that makes you a problem.My problem.And when people become my problem, I have no choice but to deal with them.”
My pulse spikes. “I-I’m telling you the truth.”
Razor studies me for a long moment. Then he hooks a finger under my chin and lifts it just enough to force me to meet his eyes.
A cold weight settles in my stomach when he pulls out his knife, waving it around in front of my face. His tone isn’t loud, but his words are a warning. “If you lie to me, I’ll be forced to make you understand exactly how unwise that move was. You’re such a pretty little thing, so it would be a shame if I had to mess up that face of yours.” He releases my chin and straightens. “Now where the fuck is he?”
Before I can answer, heavy footsteps approach behind me. Razor’s head tilts slightly, just enough to acknowledge the sound, but he doesn’t bother to look, but I do.
Massimo steps into view with his two kitchen hands flanking him. Their aprons are still on, and each one grips alarge kitchen knife like they didn’t bother putting their tools down before following him out.
