Gemma’s POV

The week dragged by like a death sentence. With some time away from Caleb’s legitimate front office, my workload had mounted dangerously, so I spent Saturday buried in paperwork, organizing financial records for the Thorne family’s various enterprises.

Strangely, I felt safer within those heavily guarded office walls than in my own apartment. Working weekends in a mafia-protected building felt more like sanctuary than burden.

Sunday arrived with me sleeping later than usual. After ordering delivery from one of the family’s affiliated restaurants, I found myself on the couch, tears streaming over a romantic film when my phone shattered the heroine’s heartbreak.

"Why do you sound like you’ve been crying your eyes out?" Zander’s voice carried that familiar concern, though I knew he’d just finished stitching up some unfortunate soul who’d crossed the wrong territory.

I sniffled, dabbing at my eyes. "Just this movie, Zander. The main character is going through hell."

His dark laugh rumbled through the speaker. "Time to put that tragedy away. Work some makeup magic and be ready soon. I’m picking you up."

"And where exactly are we going?" I asked, already reaching for the remote, knowing Zander’s invitations usually involved the kind of establishments where questions weren’t asked.

"Somewhere with strong drinks where we can discuss everyone else’s bloody messes," he replied with his characteristic brutal honesty.

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I can barely survive my own disaster. How am I supposed to handle others’?"

"That’s the beauty of it," Zander quipped. "When it’s someone else’s bullet wound, we can judge without bleeding." He disconnected before I could respond.

Later, we were seated at a corner table in downtown’s most exclusive underground tavern. The venue was impressive, vibrant atmosphere mixed with the subtle tension that came with knowing half the patrons carried concealed weapons. Live jazz floated over conversations conducted in hushed tones, and a mouthwatering spread of imported delicacies beckoned from the bar.

"You really know how to pick the dangerous spots," I said, taking in our surroundings where legitimate businessmen rubbed shoulders with made men.

Zander grinned, his medical bag discretely positioned beside his chair. "Show me someone who isn’t happy with premium alcohol and the finest everything blood money can buy. They say true happiness waits at the bottom of a very expensive glass."

I burst out laughing. "You’re literally a doctor who patches up gunshot wounds! You shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior."

"Darling, where would my lucrative off-books practice be without territorial disputes and family vendettas?" His eyes twinkled with dark mischief.

"That’s absolutely terrible!" I smacked his arm playfully.

"Live dangerously, regret tomorrow, Gemma. Tonight, we’re going all in."

Zander ordered a tower of imported beer and three shots of premium vodka each. We loaded our plates from the exclusive buffet, and when we returned, our drinks had materialized. Zander raised his first shot glass. "What are we toasting to?"

"In blood and bourbon, loyalty remains!" He declared, and we clinked glasses before downing the first shot. "Your turn."

I thought for a moment. "Friends who drink together, die together!" We knocked back the second shot, the liquid burning like family loyalty.

"Holy Margaret, full of grace, prepare your liver for this liquid embrace!" Zander proclaimed with the third shot, and we finished our initial round. From there, we dissolved into fits of laughter that lasted hours, the kind of release that only came when surrounded by armed protection.

Night had fallen by the time we decided to leave. Zander settled the substantial bill, and as we headed toward the heavily secured exit, my phone buzzed. The message from Dominic made my blood run cold:

"You forgot about me pretty quickly."

I scanned the tavern frantically. Was he here, watching from the shadows? I couldn’t spot him among the familiar faces of capos and soldiers. Pain quickly transformed into fury. He’d returned from his family business without contacting me, yet had that territory-climbing viper Beatrix draped all over him. Fueled by liquid courage and territorial rage, I fired back:

"Of course, only professional mourners cry over the dead!"

I shoved my phone into my purse just as Zander turned his attention back to me after signaling our armed escort. He immediately noticed my mood shift.

"What happened to your smile, beautiful?" he asked.

"That bloody fool!" I huffed.

Zander chuckled knowingly. "Oh Gemma, your love for that dangerous man knows no bounds, but your patience is practically nonexistent. Want my professional opinion?"

"No," I said flatly.

"You’re both suffering needlessly because you’re too stubborn to have an adult conversation about territory and loyalty," he continued, ignoring my response.

"I said I didn’t want to know!"

"Since when do I listen to civilian orders?" he countered.

"Ridiculous!" I couldn’t help laughing. "Don’t breathe a word to my mother or your dad, okay?"

"Relax, beautiful. We’re best friends forever, remember?"

"God, you’re drunk. I feel sorry for whoever you have to stitch up tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I won’t be drunk, I’ll be hungover. Completely different medical condition requiring steadier hands," he said with practiced seriousness.

Zander’s driver dropped me at my building before heading back to the medical clinic he ran for the family. When I reached my apartment door, I froze in shock. Dominic was waiting there, his expression unreadable, dressed in his signature black suit that screamed dangerous authority. He stepped forward, took the keys from my trembling hand, unlocked the door, and pulled me inside with the controlled violence I knew too well, closing it firmly behind us.

"Let’s see if you really forgot about me," he growled before crushing his lips against mine, silencing any response I might have had with the desperate hunger of a man who’d tasted blood and wanted more.

He guided me toward the bedroom, holding me against him with possessive strength, kissing me with the desperate intensity of someone who’d seen too much death and needed to feel alive. I surrendered completely, letting him lead. I had missed him with a frightening intensity, and now he was here, consuming me with the focused attention he usually reserved for family business.

Our clothing created a trail across the apartment floor like evidence of a crime. By the time we reached my bedroom, I wore nothing but my underwear. Dominic eased me onto the bed, his green eyes glittering with something that looked remarkably like raw vulnerability beneath the killer’s mask.

"I was never like this before you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Never vulnerable."

He covered me with his powerful body, his mouth hot against mine. His hands traced my curves with the same precision he used to handle weapons, leaving goosebumps in their wake, my skin silently begging for more of his dangerous touch.

Without breaking our kiss, he began sliding my panties down, his mouth following the path his hands had just traveled. When he reached my breasts, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until I moaned beneath him like a prayer. His skilled tongue circled the sensitive peak before moving to lavish the same devoted attention on the other breast, building an almost unbearable anticipation.

Having thoroughly worshipped my breasts, he continued his downward journey, slowly removing my panties with the patience of a predator. His touches were torturously deliberate, heightening the ache between my legs. My sweet torment had only just begun.

Dominic traced a path of reverent kisses up my left leg before finally discarding my underwear completely. He carefully removed my sandal, letting it drop to the floor with finality. He retraced his path with kisses before moving to my right leg, repeating the same devoted ritual and removing my other sandal.

His lips traveled back up my body until they reclaimed my mouth, our tongues dancing as his fingers tangled in my hair with possessive need. I moaned against his lips, and he moved to my ear, gently biting the lobe before whispering, "You own me because I think about you every second of every bloody day."

I was already wet and desperate for him, but he wasn’t finished with his worship. He returned to kissing my entire body, igniting every nerve ending until I was writhing beneath him like a woman possessed.

When he reached my center, he paused, his eyes dark with hunger as if preparing to taste the most precious treasure in his empire. His mouth descended, and I cried out in pleasure. "AAAHH... DOMINIC... AAANNN..."

Words abandoned me as sensation took complete control. He worked his magic with the same focused intensity he brought to family business, each movement of his tongue sending electric currents through my body. He masterfully guided me through waves of pleasure until, with his tongue inside me and his thumb circling that sensitive bundle of nerves, I surrendered to an overwhelming climax that shattered me completely.

He climbed back up my body, his lips never leaving my skin, as if determined to mark every inch of me as his territory. When he reached my ear again, he whispered, "You have me, Gemma, making excuses to see you, praying it’s not too late for redemption."

Before I could respond, he covered my mouth with another kiss, this one different, not desperate or fierce, but deeply intimate and full of the tenderness he showed no one else, as if conveying that he loved and missed me beyond reason. I returned his kiss with equal fervor, pouring into it all the longing that had been consuming my soul.

As we kissed with reverent intensity, he positioned himself and began entering me, gentle and careful, melting into me with complete devotion. His movements felt like an enchantment that separated me from myself and made me completely his, without reservations or conditions.

I surrendered completely to this perfect dangerous love, moving together as one until we reached the pinnacle of pleasure simultaneously. I gave myself to him as he did to me, two souls bound by something stronger than blood oaths.

After such an intense and powerful release, I felt transcendent. We remained connected, wordless, entangled for what seemed like hours, our breathing and heartbeats gradually returning to normal. Held in his arms, I drifted to sleep feeling secure and protected by the most dangerous man in the city.

But the next morning, I woke up cold and alone, abandonment gnawing at my soul like a physical wound. I dragged myself from bed in tears, washing away the night under a scalding shower. As I prepared for another day at the family’s front operation, I began to wonder if that night of passionate love had been nothing but an alcohol-induced fantasy. By the time I finished getting ready, I had convinced myself it had all been just a dangerous dream.