Chapter 7 - The AftermathBy dawn, federal marshals and state police had surrounded the estate, hauling away the remaining Moretti mercenaries in handcuffs. Marcus Vance supervised the cleanup, his arm in a temporary sling from a graze wound he had picked up at the north gate.
Inside the grand parlor—now smelling of smoke, plaster, and burnt gunpowder—Dominic sat on the edge of a velvet sofa, a paramedic wrapping a clean white gauze bandage around a deep gash on his forearm.
Ruby sat across from him on a wooden chair, wrapped in a warm wool blanket, holding a steaming mug of tea that Marcus had brought her.
Dominic watched her over the paramedic's shoulder. Every time she moved, his eyes followed her with an intensity that made the paramedic quietly pack up his medical kit and excuse himself from the room.
Marcus walked over, handing Dominic an encrypted tablet. “The Moretti cell leaders are in custody. Their logistics network in New Jersey has been completely dismantled by the federal task force. We’re safe, boss.”
“Good,” Dominic said coldly without looking up. “Double the perimeter guard. And make sure nobody—lawyer, politician, or rival—gets within a mile of this estate without my explicit authorization.”
Marcus glanced between Dominic and Ruby, a knowing, exhausted smile touching his lips. “Consider it done, boss. I’ll go check on the security gates.”
When Marcus left, closing the heavy doors behind him, the room grew quiet again.
Ruby blew gently on the surface of her tea, her eyes fixed on the floor. “So. I guess this means housekeeping is officially canceled for the day?”
Dominic stood up, wincing slightly as his arm pulled against the bandage. He walked across the ruined parlor and stopped right in front of her chair.
“You saved my life, Ruby,” Dominic said, his voice deep, resonant, and entirely stripped of its usual defensive armor.
“You saved mine first,” she replied softly, looking up at him. “When you tackled that guy on the stairs.”
Dominic reached down, taking her mug of tea and setting it gently on the table. Then, taking both her hands in his, he pulled her up from the chair until she was standing right in front of him.
“I hired you to clean my house,” Dominic murmured, his thumb gently tracing the back of her hand. “I didn't hire you to risk your life, fix my broken antiques with your heart, or teach me that silence is just another word for loneliness.”
Ruby’s breath hitched. A bright, warm blush spread across her cheeks, though she didn't look away. “Well, you’re welcome. My rates for tactical support are usually much higher, but I’ll accept hazard pay in the form of not getting yelled at about my singing.”
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Dominic let out a low, genuine laugh—a sound so rare and rich that it seemed to chase away every shadow lingering in the scarred, smoke-filled room.
He cupped her face with his large, warm hand, leaning down slowly until his lips brushed hers in a tender, lingering kiss that tasted like coffee, danger, and a brand-new beginning.
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