Chapter 2 - A Shadow in the Blizzard
The Boston gallery was quiet, filled with the scent of oil paint and turpentine. Megan wiped down the glass cases, her mind drifting to Chicago. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't erase Dominic’s face from her memory. Did he marry Isabella? Was he happy? Did he ever think of his "little art curator" who had disappeared into the night?
He doesn't care, she reminded herself, wiping a tear from her cheek. You were just a temporary distraction to a monster.
Suddenly, the gallery’s front bell chimed.
Megan froze. The gallery had closed an hour ago. "Hello?" she called out, her hand instinctively dropping to protect her stomach. "We're closed."
No answer. Only the heavy, rhythmic thud of expensive leather boots on the hardwood floor.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows of the exhibition hall. The dim gallery lights caught the sharp, aristocratic jawline, the broad shoulders draped in a dark cashmere overcoat, and those piercing, unforgettable gray eyes.
Dominic.
Megan’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered so violently she felt dizzy. She took a step back, her heel catching on a bucket of water.
"Megan," Dominic breathed. His voice was raw, cracked with an emotion she had never heard from him before—despair.
"Don't come near me!" she shrieked, her voice echoing in the empty gallery. She grabbed a heavy metal easel, holding it between them like a shield. "How did you find me? Go back to your wife!"
Dominic didn't stop. He walked toward her slowly, his hands raised in surrender, his eyes locked onto her midsection. Even under the oversized sweater, the beautiful, round curve of her pregnancy was undeniable. Seeing it in person shattered him. He fell to his knees right there on the cold floor, looking up at her with tears swimming in his gray eyes.
"She is not my wife, Meg," he choked out. "There was no wedding. There never was going to be one. It was a trap to catch the Morettis. I lied to protect you. I swear to God, I lied to keep you alive."
"You said I was a problem! You said I would be taken care of quietly!" Megan sobbed, the pain of that day overflowing. "I heard you, Dominic! I saw the ring!"
"Because Isabella’s father had a wiretap on me!" Dominic took a step closer on his knees, reaching out but not daring to touch her yet. "If they knew you were my weakness, they would have tortured you to get to me. I had to make them believe I didn't care. I am so sorry, my love. I have lived in hell every second you've been gone."
Megan shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "It's too late. I burned the picture, Dominic. I burned our baby's heartbeat. We don't belong in your world."
"You are my world," he vowed, standing up swiftly and closing the distance. Before she could run, he wrapped his strong, warm arms around her, pulling her gently but firmly against his chest.
For a second, Megan fought him, pounding her fists against his chest. But as his familiar, expensive scent of cedarwood and rain wrapped around her, her strength crumbled. She collapsed into his embrace, weeping uncontrollably.
May you like
And then, Dominic felt it. Against his stomach, a tiny, firm kick nudged his abdomen.
Dominic froze, his entire body shaking as he realized what it was. He gently placed his large, scarred hand over her belly, and when the baby kicked again, the feared mafia boss of Chicago let out a broken sob, burying his face in Megan's neck.
