Chapter 2 - The Fortress on the Cliff
The Rossi safehouse in Lake Forest was not a home; it was a reinforced military fortress built into the cliffs overlooking Lake Michigan. Steel-reinforced walls, bulletproof glass, private medical bays, and thirty armed men patrolling the grounds every hour of the day.
Aaliyah woke up to the smell of antiseptic and high-end lavender soap.
She blinked against the soft ambient lighting, finding herself in a massive king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets. Her shoulder was tightly bandaged, an IV line was snaked into her right wrist, and her ears no longer rang with that unbearable high pitch.
She tried to sit up, but a sharp spike of pain in her ribs made her gasp.
Immediately, a small movement at the side of the bed caught her attention.
Leo was sitting on a plush leather chair pulled right up against the mattress. He was dressed in clean grey sweatpants, his dark hair damp from a shower. On his lap was a coloring book, but he wasn't coloring. He was watching her like a hawk.
The moment their eyes met, the boy dropped his crayons. He didn't say a word—Leo hadn't spoken a single word since his mother died three years ago—but he stood up on his chair, leaned over the mattress, and pressed his forehead gently against Aaliyah’s uninjured shoulder.
Aaliyah felt a lump form in her throat. She raised her good arm, resting her hand against the back of his small head, stroking his dark hair.
“Hey, little guy,” she whispered, her voice raspy. “We made it.”
The door opened silently. Roman walked in, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, fresh bread, and a glass of water. He was wearing a dark velvet sweater and trousers, looking less like a bloodthirsty mob boss and more like a man carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
He stopped at the foot of the bed, observing the scene.
Leo didn't move away from Aaliyah when Roman entered. He simply stayed anchored to her side, his small hand resting over her heart.
“The doctor said your left collarbone is cracked and you have a mild concussion,” Roman said, his voice quiet, almost respectful. “You were out for sixteen hours.”
“Vincent?” Aaliyah asked softly.
Roman’s jaw tightened. “Dead. Caruso took a round to the hip, but he’ll live. The men who attacked the garage were mercenaries hired by the Marcone family. They thought they could kidnap Leo to force me into relinquishing control of the docks.”
“They almost succeeded,” Aaliyah said, staring directly into Roman’s eyes.
Roman didn't flinch. “I know. And if you hadn't been there… if you hadn't picked up that gun…” He paused, setting the tray down on the bedside table. He looked down at his shoes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “In my world, loyalty is bought with money or forced with fear. Nobody risks their life for nothing.”
“He’s not 'nothing,'” Aaliyah snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “He’s a child, Roman! Not an asset! Not leverage! A child who was terrified out of his mind!”
Roman looked at her, stunned by her defiance. No one talked to him like that. No one called him by his first name without permission. But as he looked at her sitting in his bed, battered and bruised because she had shielded his son, his eyes softened.
“I know,” Roman said quietly. “Which is why, starting today, you are no longer the nanny.”
May you like
Aaliyah froze. “What?”
“You are under my personal protection,” Roman stated, leaning closer, his gaze intensely sharp. “You know our faces. You saved my blood. The Marcones will come for you now to get to him. You stay here, in my house, as family.”
