Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage
Clara woke to the smell of antiseptic and expensive linen.
She wasn't in a hospital. She was in a bedroom larger than her entire apartment, lying in a king-sized bed beneath a vaulted, frescoed ceiling. Her left shoulder was heavily bandaged, throbbing with a dull ache.
The door clicked open, and Gabriel walked in.
He had lost the overcoat. He wore a crisp white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms covered in dark, intricate ink. The exhaustion in his eyes was deeper now.
“The bullet went clean through,” Gabriel said, stopping at the foot of the bed. “My private surgeon stitched you up. You lost blood, but you’ll live.”
“Where am I?” Clara rasped, her throat dry.
“My estate. The compound is heavily guarded. The men who hit the diner belong to the Volkov syndicate. They know you saved my son. If I let you go back to your apartment, they will kill you just to send me a message.”
Clara tried to sit up, wincing. “I have a life. I have bills. I can't stay in a mob boss's house.”
Gabriel pulled a chair to the bedside and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees. The cold, ruthless aura was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous: vulnerability.
“My wife died giving birth to Leo,” Gabriel said quietly. “I buried myself in the syndicate. When we found out he was deaf at age two, I paid for the best doctors, the best hearing aids, surgeries... nothing worked. I hired nannies, but he terrified them with his tantrums. He’s six years old, Clara. And last night, in that diner, was the first time I have seen him smile in three years.”
Gabriel looked her dead in the eye. “I don't just want to protect you. I want to hire you.”
May you like
“As what?” Clara asked, her breath catching.
“As his voice. As his teacher. And as mine.” Gabriel swallowed hard. “Teach me how to talk to my son.”
