Chapter 9 - The Brink of Ruin
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Vincent personally escorted Charlene to her room, calling Dr. Harmon immediately. The examination confirmed she had suffered a severe muscle sprain in her lower back from the fall, but miraculously, the baby’s heartbeat remained strong and steady.
She was ordered to remain on bed rest for twenty-four hours.
That night, the heavy door to her room flew open.
Dominic stormed inside, looking absolutely unhinged. He had just returned from a final negotiation meeting with O'Rourke in the city. The moment Vincent had informed him of the incident in the foyer, the fragile restraint he had been maintaining for weeks completely shattered.
He didn't bother taking off his coat. He dropped to his knees beside her bed, his large hands frantically checking her face, her arms, and resting heavily on her stomach.
“I’m going to kill her,” Dominic breathed, his voice ragged, entirely stripped of its civilized facade. “I don't care about the Senator. I don't care about the political cover. I am going to drag Bethany out of her suite right now and throw her through the front gates.”
“Dominic, no!” Charlene cried, grabbing his lapels and pulling him down toward her. “You can't! O'Rourke hasn't signed the treaty yet!”
“I don't care!” he roared, his gray eyes wild with pure, unadulterated panic. “She could have killed you! She could have killed our daughter!”
“But she didn't,” Charlene pleaded, tears streaming down her face. She cupped his rough, handsome face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I am fine. The baby is fine. Dominic, if you break the cover now, the Petrovs will attack the estate tomorrow. The Irish will walk away. We will lose everything.”
“I’ve already lost everything if I can't even protect the woman carrying my child in my own house,” he wept, pressing his forehead against hers, his massive shoulders shaking with the suppressed agony of the last eight months.
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“You are protecting us,” she whispered fiercely, kissing the tears from his face. “You are building an empire where no one will ever be able to hurt us again. It’s only two more days, Dominic. The gala is in two days. Sign the treaty. Secure the guns. And then, we finish this.”
He pulled her tightly against his chest, burying his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin as if it were oxygen. He stayed on his knees beside her narrow bed for hours, holding her in the dark, gathering the strength to put the mask back on for one final, devastating performance.
