“Where is she?”I heard Dominic bark as soon as he entered La Riviera, and a second later, he was crouched down in front of me, smoothing his hand over my hair as his eyes scanned my face. “Shh,” he murmured in a low, gravelly voice. “You’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you, Em.”
I wanted to believe him, wanted to let the tension drain from my limbs, but my hands were still trembling, and my chest felt tight and constricted, like the air had been squeezed out of me.
But I didn’t have to say anything to Dominic; as soon as he realised I was struggling to breathe, he sprang into action,demanding Massimo tell him where to find my bag so he could retrieve my inhaler.
I’m now sitting in the dining room nursing a cup of tea that Dominic made for me after the Ventolin kicked in, allowing me to breathe easier.
Dante has closed the restaurant for the rest of the day, and even though the door is locked and two guards stand by it, Dominic has refused to leave my side.
The rest of the men are in the kitchen talking. About what, I have no clue, but I’m guessing some kind of retaliation. Because that’s what these types of people do. Mafia men with their rules, bikies with their grudges, all of them speaking a language written in threats and answered with violence.
“Where’s Peach?” I ask.
“With Lucia. She came over to check out the furniture and see if I needed anything else,” he grumbles with an eyeroll. “She was there when you called, so she took Peach home with her.”
“That’s good,” I say, forcing out a smile.
“You feeling better?”
I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. “Dom … can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
I look at him, trying to read his face, because this has been weighing on my mind ever since the bikies asked me where Mick was. “Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?”
Dominic’s jaw tightens, and for a heartbeat, his eyes flicker away before meeting my gaze again with that controlled calm he always manages.
“Who?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s being deliberately obtuse.
“Mick.”
He blows out a long breath, running his hand down hisface. “Right now, the most important thing is that you’re safe. That’s all you need to worry about.”
I frown. “So that’s not a no?”
He stands, cracking his neck from side to side as his hands open and close by his sides. He’s clearly uptight. Is that because of what just happened, or is it more to do with my line of questioning?
“Do you want another one of those?” he asks, gesturing to the mug in my hand.
“No.” My eyes bore into him, pleading for an answer. I need to know. I don’t know why, but I do.
“He made bad choices, Em, and those choices came with consequences.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “Consequences … like what?” I whisper, my voice shaking.
Dominic’s eyes darken, and for a brief moment, I see the weight of whatever it is he’s carrying. The burden of knowing what I can’t.
He doesn’t look away, doesn’t soften. Instead, he leans closer. “Some things,” he says slowly, reaching out to tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear, “you don’t get to undo.”
I don’t even know what that means, but my head is pounding so bad that I don’t have the energy right now to figure it out.
“I-I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
Dominic doesn’t answer right away. He just lets his gaze linger on me unyieldingly, like he’s weighing every heartbeat, every flicker of fear in my expression.
“You don’t need to understand, Emily,” he finally says. “Not right now. Sometimes the truth doesn’t make things better.”
He may be right, but sometimes the unknown is worse.
