Chapter 9 - The Return to Manhattan
Three weeks after the funeral, we were back in Manhattan.
The transition from the quiet grief of Pennsylvania back to the towering steel and glass of Dominic’s Penthouse felt surreal. I had officially submitted my resignation as his housekeeper, unable to bear the thought of scrubbing the floors of a man who had changed my life forever.
Dominic had accepted my resignation without argument, but he refused to let me move out of the penthouse guest wing until I found a proper apartment.
On a rainy Tuesday evening, while Lily was asleep in her room, I sat at the kitchen island with my laptop, reviewing job applications for corporate administration roles.
A soft step sounded behind me. Dominic walked into the kitchen, wearing a black sweater and dark trousers, holding two mugs of hot tea. He set one down beside my laptop.
"You're working late," he said softly, leaning his elbow against the quartz counter.
"I have three interviews scheduled for next week," I smiled weakly, staring at the screen. "I need to get settled. I can't keep living in your guest room forever, Dominic."
Dominic reached out, his hand gently closing over my laptop screen and lowering it shut.
"Sophia," he said, his voice deep and steady. "Look at me."
I turned on my stool to face him.
"When we were in Pennsylvania," Dominic began, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that took my breath away, "I told your father that you mattered to me. I told your mother that I wouldn't let anyone hurt you again."
"I know," I whispered, my heart beginning to hammer against my ribs. "And I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did for my family."
"I don't want your thanks, Sophia," Dominic said, taking a step closer, placing his hands on either side of my waist, pulling me gently toward the edge of the stool. "I want you."
My breath hitched in my throat.
"I spent ten years building a fortress around myself because I thought keeping people at a distance was the only way to stay safe," Dominic murmured, his thumb tracing my jawline. "Then a three-year-old girl walked into my foyer with a crayon drawing, and her mother completely shattered everything I thought I wanted."
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"Dominic..." I gasped, tears filling my eyes. "I’m just a housekeeper... I don't belong in your world."
"You are not a housekeeper, Sophia," he said fiercely, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine. "You are the strongest, most remarkable woman I have ever known. My world means nothing if you aren't in it."
