Chapter 4 - The Recovery Suite
Two weeks later, Skyler was moved from the hospital to the private guest wing of the Rossi estate—a grand, sunlit suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate's vast pine forests and frozen marble fountains.
It was a room reserved for foreign diplomats and syndicate bosses, decorated in plush cream velvet, mahogany furniture, and hand-woven Persian rugs.
Skyler sat on the edge of the plush king-sized bed, wearing a soft cashmere sweater and leggings provided by Carmela. Her cheek was healed enough for the heavy bandages to be replaced by a small, neat strip of medical tape covering a faint, pink three-inch scar.
A knock sounded on the open mahogany door.
Carmela Rossi walked in, carrying a silver tray laden with fresh pastries, herbal tea, and hot soup. Behind her walked two servants who looked visibly uncomfortable seeing their former fellow maid resting in the highest-ranking guest suite in the mansion.
"Carmela, please," Skyler said, immediately standing up to take the tray from the older woman. "You shouldn't be carrying things for me! I'm fine, really—"
"Sit down, child!" Carmela scolded gently, placing the tray on the low coffee table and forcing Skyler back onto the plush sofa. "You are recovering from poison! The doctor said you need rest, good food, and zero stress."
Carmela sat beside her, taking Skyler’s hand in her own fragile, warm fingers.
"How is the cheek?" Carmela asked softly, reaching up to touch the edge of the scar.
"It throbs sometimes when the weather changes," Skyler admitted, looking down at her lap. "And... it's ugly. I already took up too much space, and now I have a giant mark across my face."
Carmela’s expression turned stern, her dark eyes flashing with genuine maternal authority. "Listen to me, Skyler Gallagher. That mark on your face is a mark of absolute courage. In a room full of powerful men with guns and expensive suits, you were the only one who had the heart to protect an old woman. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of that scar, or of your body."
Skyler swallowed hard, tears pricking her eyes as she nodded.
The heavy oak doors opened wider, and Dominic stepped into the room. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, looking every bit the cold, formidable Don who ruled New York's underworld. Yet, as his eyes met Skyler's, the sharp edge in his posture relaxed noticeably.
"Mother," Dominic acknowledged, kissing Carmela's forehead. "The car is waiting downstairs to take you to your afternoon appointment."
"I am going," Carmela smiled, squeezing Skyler's hand before standing up. "Dominic, make sure she eats all those pastries. She’s still too pale."
Once Carmela left, closing the doors behind her, a heavy, quiet atmosphere descended upon the spacious suite.
Dominic walked over to the desk, setting down a thick leather folder. He looked at Skyler, taking in the soft, warm sweater that hugged her full curves, his gaze lingering on the scar along her jawline.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Better, Mr. Rossi," Skyler answered quietly. "Thank you for... everything. The medical care, the room... but I think I should start looking for an apartment in the city. I can't stay in your guest house forever."
Dominic’s jaw tightened slightly. He walked over to the armchair across from her and sat down, crossing one leg over his knee.
"You aren't leaving, Skyler," Dominic said flatly.
"Mr. Rossi, I'm not a servant anymore," Skyler reasoned, her voice rising slightly with rare resistance. "I can't just live here as your guest. People are already talking. The staff looks at me like I tricked you into giving me a free ride."
Dominic leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his amber eyes locking onto hers with intense concentration.
"Let them talk," Dominic murmured. "The Moretti family has declared open war on us following Bianca's arrest. Victor Moretti knows you are the key witness in the federal indictment against his family for the chemical attack. Outside these gates, you are a target."
May you like
Skyler paled. "A target...?"
"Inside this house, under my direct protection, you are untouchable," Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave, rich and unshakeable. "You aren't staying here as a maid, Skyler. You are staying here as my personal ward."
