Chapter 4 - The Fortress
The Kell Estate in Long Island was a fortress disguised as a palace. High stone walls, wrought-iron gates, and men in dark suits patrolling the grounds with discreet earpieces.
Despite the intimidating environment, Nora flourished. Sofia, who was usually selectively mute and prone to violent sensory meltdowns, latched onto Nora immediately. They spent their days in the estate's massive gardens, drawing, reading, and establishing a routine that brought color back to the little girl’s cheeks.
Damian was a phantom. He worked late, took hushed, angry phone calls in his study, and hosted men who looked like they broke bones for a living. But every evening at 7:00 PM, without fail, the mafia boss shed his armor. He would sit on the floor of the playroom, letting Sofia show him her drawings, and his harsh features would soften into something devastatingly handsome.
Nora found herself watching him more and more.
One rainy evening, after Sofia had gone to sleep, Nora went down to the kitchen for a glass of water. She found Damian sitting at the marble island, a glass of whiskey untouched in front of him, a bloody bandage wrapped around his knuckles.
Nora froze, her eyes on the blood.
"It's not mine," Damian said, his voice exhausted.
Nora should have run. She should have gone back to her room. Instead, she walked to the sink, wet a clean towel with warm water, and stepped up beside him. Without asking, she took his large hand in hers and began to gently wipe the dried blood from his skin.
Damian went completely still. He looked down at her small, soft hands holding his calloused, violent ones.
"You shouldn't be down here, Nora," he murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, dark tension. "You shouldn't see this side of me."
"I'm not afraid of you, Damian," she whispered, looking up through her lashes.
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Damian’s jaw clenched. He reached out with his free hand, his knuckles grazing her cheek. It was a fleeting, burning touch, but it shifted the entire axis of their relationship. The air cracked with electric, unspoken desire.
"You should be," he said, before pulling away and walking into the shadows.
