Part 12
One week later, the penthouse had settled into a quiet, almost domestic routine that Meline hadn't thought possible for a man like Dominic Valente.
The daily reports of his global shipping empire were still delivered to his study every morning at 5:00 AM, but Dominic no longer spent his nights at the downtown offices.
He worked from the penthouse, his deep voice carrying through the heavy oak doors of his study as he conducted international conference calls while keeping his eyes on the closed-circuit security feeds displaying Meline’s bedroom.
It was a Tuesday evening when the routine broke.
Meline was lying on the outdoor terrace sofa, wrapped in a plush blanket, watching the sun dip below the Hudson River, painting the New York sky in shades of deep violet and bruised gold.
The terrace was shielded by high, reinforced glass panels that blocked the wind but allowed the light to filter through.
Dominic stepped out onto the terrace, carrying a small, silver tray with a bowl of fresh fruit and a glass of milk.
He had discarded his tie hours ago, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the dark, intricate tattoos that covered his forearms—symbols of the old-world family heritage he had spent his life protecting.
He set the tray down on the marble coffee table and sat at the edge of her sofa, placing his hand automatically over her stomach.
The baby gave a sudden, sharp kick right against his palm.
Dominic’s hand flinched in surprise, his eyes instantly widening as he looked down at her belly.
“She’s active tonight,” Meline said, a small, genuine smile breaking across her face as she watched the fierce, ruthless billionaire look completely startled by a movement no larger than a heartbeat.
“She’s strong,” Dominic murmured, his voice laced with a deep, quiet pride. He pressed his hand a little firmer, waiting for another sign.
A second later, another small thud hit his palm.
A low, rare laugh escaped Dominic’s throat. It was a beautiful sound, one Meline hadn't heard in years. It transformed his face, smoothing the sharp, dangerous lines of his jaw and making him look human.
“She has your energy,” Dominic said, looking up to meet her eyes. “Restless. Always trying to find a way out.”
“She’s just reminding us that she’s here, Dominic,” Meline said softly, her smile fading into something more serious. “That she’s waiting for a world that is ready for her.”
Before Dominic could answer, the glass door to the terrace slid open with a sharp, hurried click.
Silas stepped out onto the stone tiles. His face was entirely pale, his eyes wide with a frantic urgency that Meline hadn't seen since the beach in Maine.
Dominic’s hand didn't leave Meline’s stomach, but his entire body went rigid in an instant. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cold, lethal focus.
“What?” Dominic barked.
Silas looked at Meline, then back to Dominic, hesitating for a fraction of a second.
“Speak, Silas,” Dominic commanded, his voice dropping into that dangerous register that signaled an immediate threat.
Silas stepped closer, lowering his voice, but in the quiet evening air, the words were perfectly clear.
“The European shipping routes in the Mediterranean… three of our primary container ships were boarded an hour ago by Interpol forces. They had a federal warrant signed by the international court.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “On what grounds?”
Silas swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Meline again before looking straight at his boss.
“Treason and corporate espionage, Boss. Someone leaked the family’s deep-encryption ledgers to the authorities.”
“The only person who had access to those specific ledgers besides you…”
Silas paused, the silence on the terrace turning into a vacuum of pure terror.
“Was Marcus.”
Dominic didn't move. He didn't blink.
Marcus hadn't just run to South America to hide. He had burned the house down on his way out. He had given the authorities the keys to Dominic’s kingdom in exchange for immunity.
Meline felt her heart drop into her stomach. She looked at Dominic, expecting the storm, expecting the rage that could destroy a city.
But Dominic simply stood up from the sofa, his movements incredibly slow, incredibly calm.
He pulled his shirt sleeves down, buttoning the cuffs with absolute precision.
“Silas,” Dominic said, his voice smoother than ice.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Lock down the penthouse. Activate the Level 10 protocol. No one enters this building, not even the local police, without a direct order from my hand. If anyone attempts to breach the perimeter, use maximum force.”
He turned to look down at Meline, his face looking like something carved from the coldest marble in Italy.
He reached down, his large hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower eyelid one last time.
“Stay inside, Meline,” he whispered, his voice full of a dark, beautiful promise that made her blood run cold.
May you like
“I am going to end this war once and for all.”
He turned and walked back into the penthouse, his long shadow stretching across the stone floor, leaving her alone in the fading gold light as the alarms of his empire began to sound in the distance.
