Chapter 6 - The Sanctuary in Marblehead
An hour later, the chaos of the city had faded into a quiet blur of coastal highway.
Roman’s heavy black SUV turned through a set of massive, wrought-iron security gates and pulled up the long cobblestone driveway of a sprawling stone estate perched high on the ocean bluffs of Marblehead, miles away from the smoke of Hanover Street.
Inside the residence, a roaring fire crackled in a massive floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. A private physician was already waiting in the study, quietly suturing the shallow bullet graze on Roman's left forearm while Clara sat on a deep velvet sofa nearby, holding a fast-asleep Lily in her arms.
"The fire was put out quickly," Roman said softly, his voice calm as the doctor tied off a surgical thread on his arm. "My men suppressed the flames in the basement before any structural harm came to your brick ovens. Your bakery is completely intact, Clara."
Clara looked at his blood-stained sleeve, at the black soot smudge along his jawline, and at the gentle, protective way he kept checking on her niece. "You took a bullet for us."
"I told you earlier," Roman said, picking up a crystal glass of scotch with his good hand after the doctor packed his equipment and quietly exited the room. "I value my morning sourdough. I couldn't allow anything to happen to my baker."
Clara carefully laid Lily down on the sofa cushions, tucking the wool blanket around the sleeping girl, and walked over to where Roman sat by the hearth. She picked up a warm, damp towel from a tray left by the staff and gently reached out to wipe the dark soot from his high cheekbones and jawline.
Roman went completely still under her touch. His breath caught slightly in his chest as her fingers brushed against his warm skin.
"Why are you doing all of this, Roman?" Clara whispered, searching his pale eyes in the flickering orange firelight. "A man in your position... you could have taken that ledger and left us to handle the fallout."
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"A man in my position spends his entire life surrounded by people who smile at him out of pure fear or disgusting greed," Roman said softly. He reached up with his right hand and gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, feeling the steady flutter of her pulse beneath his thumb. "You threw a handful of raw flour straight at my chest because you were willing to fight for what belonged to you. You didn't bow. You didn't beg."
He looked up into her eyes, his silver gaze burning with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. "In over twenty years, Clara... you are the only person who looked at me and saw a human being instead of a monster."
