Chapter 2 - The Ride Home
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The interior of the armored Maybach was completely silent.
Clara sat staring out the tinted window at the passing city lights, gripping the lapels of Dominic’s tuxedo jacket. It smelled of cedar, expensive scotch, and him.
"You broke the contract," Clara finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dominic poured a glass of water from the car’s minibar and handed it to her. "Drink this."
"Clause four, Dominic," Clara continued, ignoring the glass. "Total public separation. We agreed. The marriage was supposed to be a legal shield against the federal subpoenas, nothing more. You just announced it to the entire Chicago syndicate."
Dominic leaned back against the leather seat, unbuttoning his collar. "The circumstances changed."
"Because your ex threw wine on me?" Clara laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "I've had worse spilled on me. I grew up in the South Side, remember? I can handle a mean girl in a silk dress."
"You shouldn't have to," Dominic growled, his jaw clenching. "And it wasn't just about the wine, Clara. It was about how she looked at you. How they all looked at you."
"They looked at me the way they always do," Clara said, looking down at her lap. "Like I take up too much space."
"They looked at you like you were prey," Dominic corrected fiercely, shifting closer to her. "And I needed to remind them exactly whose territory you are."
Clara’s breath hitched. She looked into his dark eyes, searching for the cold, calculating mob boss she had made a deal with eighteen months ago. But he wasn't there.
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"You just painted a massive target on my back," Clara whispered.
"No," Dominic said, reaching out to gently tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "I just built an impenetrable fortress around you. No one touches the Queen."
