Chapter 9
Three days had passed since the brutal siege on the Whitmore estate. The mansion was undergoing massive repairs; scaffolding lined the eastern wing, and the bullet holes in the grand foyer were being painstakingly patched. But beneath the destruction, a profound, unbreakable peace had settled over the household. The Rowe syndicate had been entirely dismantled, its territories absorbed by Dante’s forces.
Megan sat on the edge of the massive four-poster bed in Dante’s master suite. The heavy velvet drapes were pulled back, allowing the bright winter sun to flood the room. The bandages on her hands had been replaced with smaller, less restrictive wrappings. The bruising was fading, and the pain had dulled to a manageable ache.
The bathroom door opened, and Dante stepped out. He wore soft grey sweatpants and no shirt. A thick, white medical bandage was wrapped tightly around his waist, covering the bullet wound. Despite the injury, he moved with his usual commanding grace. His dark, negative space tattoos stood out starkly against his pale skin.
He walked over to the bed and sat beside her, groaning softly as he shifted his weight.
"You shouldn't be walking around so much," Megan scolded gently, her clear eyes filled with worry as she looked at his bandaged side.
"If I stay in this bed any longer, I'm going to lose my mind," Dante chuckled, reaching out to gently take her bandaged hands in his. He traced the edge of the gauze with his thumb. "How are your fingers today?"
"Better," Megan smiled softly. "The doctor said I can have the bandages off by next week."
"Good," Dante murmured, his dark eyes turning intensely serious. He lifted her hands and pressed a tender kiss to the knuckles of each one. "Because I don't want anything between your skin and the ring I am going to put on your finger."
Megan’s breath hitched, her heart fluttering wildly against her ribs. "Dante..."
"I told you I was claiming you, Megan. I wasn't speaking out of adrenaline," Dante said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that commanded her entire focus. "You fought for my son. You fought for me. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Not as my guest. Not as my maid. As my wife."
Tears of pure joy welled in Megan’s eyes. She leaned forward, carefully wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, mindful of his wound. "Yes. Of course, yes."
Dante let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for days. He tilted her chin up and captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sealing a promise forged in fire and blood.
A joyful squeal interrupted them. The bedroom door burst open, and Felix ran into the room, holding a new wooden toy train. He scrambled up onto the massive bed, completely ignoring his father's wound, and threw himself into Megan's lap.
"Mommy! Train!" Felix beamed, holding up the toy.
May you like
"It's beautiful, sweetie," Megan laughed, kissing his rosy cheek.
Dante wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them close. For the first time in his violent life, the mafia boss truly felt like he was home.
