Chapter 4 - The Gilded Cage and the Safe House
The transition from running a modest apartment above the bakery to residing in the sprawling Russo estate happened with terrifying efficiency.
By sunset, Chloe’s modest belongings had been packed into professional storage units, and she found herself sitting in the passenger seat of the bulletproof Maybach as it swept through the towering wrought-iron gates of an expansive stone manor tucked away on the wooded outskirts of Chicago.
“Dominic, this is insane,” Chloe protested for the fifth time as the car glided up the winding driveway. “I have a business to run. I have bakers who depend on me. I can’t just move into a fortress because you decided we’re playing house!”
“You are not playing house,” Dominic said, his profile illuminated by the passing dashboard lights as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. “You are moving into a secure location where rival syndicates cannot reach you. The news that I have an heir is going to leak within forty-eight hours. I will not have you or my child exposed to crossfire in a downtown bakery.”
“You could have asked me!”
“If I had asked, you would have argued,” Dominic replied smoothly, pulling the car to a halt beneath the sprawling stone portico of the main manor. “And while I admire your stubbornness, Chloe, it is currently a liability.”
Before she could fire back a stinging retort, the passenger door opened. Mrs. Gable, the severe yet impeccably polite head housekeeper, stood waiting with an umbrella to shield her from the light evening mist.
“Welcome to the estate, Mrs. Russo,” Mrs. Gable said with a respectful nod.
Chloe paused, the title hanging strangely in the air. “I’m not—”
“You will be legally married by the end of the week,” Dominic interrupted smoothly as he stepped out of the driver’s side, walking around to open her door and extending a large, gloved hand. “Paperwork is already being processed.”
Chloe stared at his hand, torn between furious indignation and a fluttering, undeniable warmth in her chest. She took his hand, letting him help her out of the vehicle.
Over the next three days, life inside the Russo estate became an exercise in boundary negotiation.
Dominic had given her the master suite wing—a luxurious sprawl of rooms decorated in deep emeralds, rich charcoals, and warm cherry wood, complete with a private balcony overlooking the pristine estate gardens. He had even converted an adjoining room into a fully equipped nursery, stocked with designer cribs, cashmere baby blankets, and educational toys that looked more suited for a royal prince than an infant.
Yet, Chloe refused to be treated like a helpless prisoner in a gilded cage.
On the fourth morning, she marched down the grand marble staircase into Dominic’s private subterranean office, interrupting a meeting with two high-ranking captains who were discussing port logistics.
“Out,” Chloe said, pointing toward the heavy oak doors.
The two burly capos blinked in sheer astonishment, looking from Chloe to Dominic, waiting for the boss to execute her on the spot for insubordination.
Dominic, to their utter shock, raised a single hand. “Leave us.”
The capos scrambled out of the room faster than a pair of startled cats, closing the heavy doors behind them.
Dominic leaned back in his leather executive chair, resting his arms on the armrests, a slow, amused smile playing on his lips. “You interrupted a critical shipment review, little bird. Is the nursery not to your liking?”
“The nursery is larger than my entire former apartment,” Chloe said, planting her hands firmly on her hips as she stood before his desk. “And that’s the problem, Dominic. You are treating me like a delicate porcelain doll. I am going back to the bakery today.”
“No, you are not,” Dominic said, his tone shifting instantly from amused to absolute authority.
“Try and stop me,” she fired back. “I spent ten years building Sweet Relief from the ground up. I am not going to sit up here in a stone fortress drinking chamomile tea while men in suits argue about shipping containers!”
Dominic stood up slowly. He walked around the desk, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.
“You think I’m locking you away because I want to control you?” Dominic asked softly, his voice dropping an octave.
“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”
“No,” Dominic replied, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unguarded vulnerability that took her breath away. “I’m keeping you here because the thought of someone walking into that bakery and putting a bullet through the glass while you’re standing behind the counter makes me want to burn this entire city to the ground.”
May you like
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. The anger inside her evaporated, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion.
Before she could answer, the muffled sound of a distant explosion shook the foundations of the manor.
