Chapter 4

Aria's POV

"Tell me, Aria... have you ever had a child?"

The question hung in the dimly lit nursery, sounding heavy. My heart slammed in my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I forced a laugh, a dry sound that scraped the back of my throat.

"I worked odd jobs, Mr. Valentino," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Daycares. Babysitting for double shifts. When you're handed a screaming infant and told to make it stop, you figure it out fast."

Dominic didn't blink. His dark eyes searched my face, dissecting every micro-expression. "Is that so."

"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put him down."

I put down my Luca and then turned away too fast. Panic made my movements jerky. My foot caught on the edge of the thick Persian rug, and I couldn't brace for the fall.

I didn't hit the ground.

A large, calloused hand clamped around my waist like a steel vice, yanking me backward.

I crashed hard against a solid wall of muscle. Dominic's other arm wrapped around my front, securing me against his chest in one fluid, impossibly fast motion.

The air rushed out of my lungs. My back was arched, my chest pressed flush against him as I twisted my head to look up.

For a split second, the elegant nursery faded.

I remembered that night a year ago!

The smell of rain, copper blood, and raw danger.

An alleyway swallowed by shadows.

The feverish heat of a man poisoned and cornered, gripping my waist with strength. He had lifted me off the ground with one arm, pressing my upper body flush against his, our breaths mingling as the world tilted...

A sudden, sharp intake of breath snapped me back to the present.

I was staring up into Dominic's face. He was inches away, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath his skin.

My chest heaved, my breasts brushing the hard plane of his chest with every ragged breath. Heat radiated from his palm, scorching through the thin cotton of my shirt, sending a treacherous, electric weakness straight down to my knees.

He was perfectly still, but the rigid tension of his body betrayed him. Against my hip, I could feel the hard shift of his physical reaction.

Yet, his face remained a mask of flawless, chilling indifference.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a dark, vibrating rasp that seemed to echo in my bones.

"Thank you," I gasped, instantly pulling away the moment his grip loosened. My legs were trembling so violently I could barely stand.

I forced me to keep looking a Luca into the crib, not daring to look back. "Goodnight, Mr. Valentino."

I heard his footsteps retreat. When I finally turned, the doorway was empty.

By noon the next day, the tension in the estate had morphed into something entirely different. Jasmine was on the warpath.

She had noticed. Of course she had. Jasmine possessed a predator's instinct for whenever a man's attention wavered from her, and Dominic's icy dismissal the previous night had sent her into a spiral of vicious insecurity.

She needed to assert her dominance, and I was the easiest target.

"Aria," Jasmine's voice sliced through the quiet of the grand library.

I paused, a heavy stack of leather-bound books in my arms. Dominic was seated at the massive mahogany desk at the far end of the room, listening to his assistant Chase read a security report. He didn't look up, but the scratching of his pen stopped.

Jasmine stood near the towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, draped in a silk lounger, sipping espresso. "You missed a spot on the upper molding. Just because I took pity on you and gave you a job doesn't mean you can slack off in front of my husband."

"The cleaning staff handles the high shelves, Jasmine," I said evenly.

"Call me Mrs. Valentino! And I'm telling you to do it. " She smiled, a brittle, cruel thing. "Use the rolling ladder. Don't be lazy."

I clenched my jaw. Arguing would only draw Dominic's scrutiny.

I set the books down and walked over to the wooden ladder attached to the brass rail.

I climbed, step by step, feeling the weight of two pairs of eyes on my back, Jasmine's glaring with spite, and another, heavier gaze burning from the desk.

I reached the top rung, stretching my arm with a cloth to dust the ornate woodwork.

Below, Jasmine shifted. The heel of her stiletto "accidentally" kicked the base of the ladder.

The brass wheels screeched. The ladder jerked violently to the right.

"Ah!" My fingers slipped from the molding. The world tipped sideways.

I fell.

I braced for the shattering impact of the marble floor, but it never came.

A blur of movement crossed the room. Two powerful arms caught me mid-air, the impact driving the breath from my lungs as we hit the edge of a side table.

There was a sharp, tearing sound of fabric.

A sharp corner of the table's brass fixture had caught the neckline of my shirt as I tumbled into Dominic's arms. The thin cotton ripped violently down my collarbone, exposing my left shoulder completely to the cold air of the library.

I gasped, scrambling to right myself in his arms, my hand flying up to cover my chest.

But I was too slow.

Dominic froze. The arms holding me went entirely rigid.

His dark eyes were locked on my bare skin. Right on the pale, light-brown birthmark, shaped like a crescent moon, resting on the curve of my left shoulder.

The air vanished from the room. I watched his pupils dilate, a shockwave of recognition, disbelief, and raw fury crashing across his face.

"Dominic? Oh my god, Dom, what happened?!" Jasmine's frantic, high-pitched voice echoed as she sprinted toward us, her face pale with fake concern. "Are you okay?"

Dominic didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge she was in the room.

His hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist in a vice-like grip. He yanked my hand away from my torn collar, exposing the birthmark again.

His breathing was heavy, chaotic. The terrifyingly calm mob boss was gone, replaced by the man from the alleyway.

"Dominic?" Jasmine faltered, stopping a few feet away, panic finally bleeding into her voice. "What... what's wrong?"

Dominic blocked her sight. She didn't notice he had seen my birthmark.

Dominic slowly raised his eyes from my shoulder to my face. His jaw was locked so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.

"Who," he ground out, his voice a barely restrained growl, "exactly are you?"