Dominic’s POV
Sunday evening brought us back from the family’s coastal safe house, the poisoning attempt finally behind us. Everyone had recovered completely, but I could feel the storm brewing on the horizon. My mood was already dark after Gemma postponed our wedding ceremony without discussing it with first. While I understood her reasoning, the slight still burned.
We’d barely crossed the threshold when my secured line rang. Daniel’s voice carried news that would shatter Gemma’s fragile peace of mind: Nick had walked free from county lockup. My blood pressure spiked instantly. The investigation into the chocolate poisoning was crawling forward like a wounded animal—authorities still couldn’t trace who’d purchased the contaminated sweets or identify the supplier. The delivery person wasn’t affiliated with any legitimate business, which complicated the manhunt significantly. Law enforcent would need to analyze security footage from every establishnt that carried that particular brand, a process that could drag on for weeks. anwhile, my exiled father Marcus remained a ghost in the wind.
"Christ, Daniel, do you have any good news to balance this disaster?" I growled into the phone.
"Actually, yes," Daniel replied smoothly. "Rember those undercover officers I positioned outside the correctional facility? They shadowed Nick the mont he stepped through those gates. We’ve got eyes on his location and identified his new partner."
"At least sothing’s going our way. Who’s backing this piece of street trash?"
"A woman who makes Nick look like an altar boy. She’s connected to so mid-level drug pusher that narcotics division has been tracking for months. Our departnts are coordinating efforts on this case now."
I felt my temple throb with rising anger. "So this bastard’s tangled up with narcotics dealers now? That’s what we’re dealing with? I’m seriously considering moving Gemma overseas."
"Hold your horses—we don’t have confirmation he’s working directly with the dealer himself. They served ti together before Nick got transferred to minimum security. That’s probably how he made contact with the sister. So far, our surveillance shows Nick visited his mother’s house, collected several bags, and took up residence at the woman’s apartnt complex."
"Understood. Anything else I need to know?"
"That covers the imdiate situation. But Dominic—given what happened at the beach house and with Nick back on the streets, Gemma needs to stay extrely cautious."
"I’ll make sure she understands." I terminated the call, already dreading the conversation ahead with Gemma.
I discovered her barefoot in our kitchen—one of her habits that never failed to charm . I never walked around without shoes myself, but watching her move freely through our ho told she felt safe and settled. I wrapped my arms around her from behind as she switched off the burner, the rich aroma of our dinner filling the space.
"What culinary masterpiece are you creating?" I murmured against her ear.
"Just putting the finishing touches on dinner," she answered softly.
"Slls amazing. I’m absolutely starving." Her gentle laughter sent warmth through my chest.
After we’d finished eating, I relayed everything Daniel had shared. Predictably, tension crept across her features, though she struggled to maintain composure.
"Songbird, we could take an extended trip to Europe if that would help you feel safer," I offered, already knowing her response.
"Absolutely not, Dominic. Running away hands him exactly what he wants—control over our lives. We’ll beef up security and stay alert," Gemma stated with unmistakable determination.
There was nothing left to discuss on that front.
Monday morning at the office brought an unwelco blast from the past.
"Sugar pie! I ca to see my favorite man!" Beatrix occupied the reception area outside my office while Mia and Zoe regarded her with undisguised hostility.
"Oh yes, Sugar pie," Zoe practically hissed. "Looks like the ho-wrecker missed the mo about staying away."
"Beatrix, for the love of all that’s holy, just pretend I don’t exist," I said wearily, already exhausted by this woman’s persistence.
"Impossible, darling. You’re the great love of my life," Beatrix cooed, rising from her seat to approach .
"End this madness, Beatrix!" I dodged her advance, strategically placing Zoe between us as a barrier.
"That’s right, you tramp," Zoe snapped venomously. "Cut the crazy act—though you’ve already mastered the tramp routine."
"Mind your own business and keep your mouth shut, you attack dog," Beatrix shot back at Zoe, which prompted a snicker from Mia.
"Who exactly are you calling an attack dog, you piece of trash?" Zoe’s voice escalated as she moved closer to Beatrix.
"Sweetheart, control your guard dog," Beatrix whined pathetically.
"You chose the wrong target to ss with," I replied, feeling perfectly secure behind Zoe’s protective stance.
"Darling, I ca here to support you, to stand loyally by your side. Is this the reception I deserve?" Beatrix continued her pitiful performance.
"Support with what exactly, you delusional woman? When I need support, my future wife provides everything necessary," I responded, genuinely baffled by Beatrix’s refusal to accept reality.
"Future wife?" Genuine confusion flickered across her face.
"Oh please, you stupid bitch!" Zoe exploded. "Everyone knows Dominic and Gemma are planning their wedding."
"Gemma." Beatrix’s voice turned venomous as she spoke the na. "That wedding ceremony will never take place. Not in this lifeti."
Zoe advanced another step toward Beatrix, who instinctively backed away. Then, in a mont that would beco legendary in our office, Zoe actually growled, stamped her foot aggressively, and let out a sharp bark. Beatrix fled toward the still-open elevator while Mia and I collapsed into helpless laughter.
"What the hell was that performance, Zoe?" I gasped between fits of laughter.
"What? She called a guard dog, so I figured I’d prove her point," Zoe replied with complete sincerity.
This woman truly had no boundaries or filters—a quality that made her both terrifying and invaluable in our line of work. Mia and I laughed until our ribs ached at the sheer absurdity of the confrontation.
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