Chapter 3 - Shadows and Cheese
Three weeks melted into a strange, luxurious routine inside the mafia boss's mansion.
Josie had full command of the massive industrial kitchen, turning out comfort food that seemed to heal the broken little girl day by day.
Mila was talking more now, offering quiet giggles and small sentences that brought life to the cold stone walls.
Even the terrifying bodyguards had started lingering near the kitchen, hoping for a stray chocolate chip cookie.
But Constantine remained a shadow, leaving early and returning late, often carrying the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder.
One evening, a thunderstorm raged outside, rattling the antique stained-glass windows of the dining room.
Josie was at the stove, flipping a perfectly golden grilled cheese, when a heavy presence filled the doorway.
Constantine stood there, his white dress shirt torn at the shoulder, a crimson stain spreading across the fabric.
"Don't scream," he rasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
Josie dropped her spatula, her heart hammering against her ribs as she rushed to catch him.
"You need a doctor," she urged, pulling his good arm over her shoulder to support his massive weight.
"No doctors," he grunted, wincing as she guided him toward a stool.
"There is a first aid kit under the sink."
As she cleaned the shallow bullet graze on his shoulder, the proximity between them felt electric.
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He looked down at her, his breathing heavy, his dark eyes tracking every movement of her hands.
"You have a gentle touch, Josie," he murmured, sending a shiver straight down her spine.
