My Family Sold Me To The Don. Too Bad He Was My Dog All Along Chapter 10
The yacht pulled into port.
The sky was turning pale at the edge of the horizon. A thin layer of fog hung over the water.
I walked down the gangway in my black leather dress, a long cashmere coat wrapped over my shoulders.
The dock was empty.
Seamus and Eileen had been dumped on the roadside by the guards. They saw me coming down and tried to get up. Vito kicked them back.
“Stay back. Don’s orders. Anyone gets within ten feet of Ms. Romano—legs get broken.”
Seamus curled up on the ground. His eyes were hollow.
He knew. The Romanos were done.
Three hundred million in high-interest debt. That’d chew them down to nothing.
I didn’t look at them.
My eyes cut across the empty pier. Landed on a gray car parked at the curb.
The door swung open. A man in an old hoodie and a baseball cap stepped into the morning mist.
Daniel.
He walked steady. Straight to me.
He didn’t look at the guards. Didn’t look at the yacht. Didn’t look at anything but me.
“Shift ran late. Came to take you home.” His voice was warm. Low.
Then he saw the bandages on my face. His brow pulled together.
He reached out and touched the edge of the gauze with his thumb.
“What happened? Does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
I smiled and took his hand.
His fingers were broad. Warm.
When they locked around mine, I felt something I hadn’t felt all night.
Solid ground.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
He didn’t ask in front of them. That was Daniel. He always knew when to wait.
He walked me to the car.
My door opened. I got in the passenger seat.
The engine turned. We pulled away from the pier.
In the mirror, I saw Enzo standing on the top deck of the yacht.
Thin shirt. Wind messing up his hair. Eyes locked on the car’s tail lights.
He ruled the New York underworld.
And he’d just lost his goddess forever.
Inside the car, the heat was on. Daniel drove one-handed, voice quiet.
“Had a case run long at the precinct. I left your anniversary cake in the glovebox. It’s late, but—happy three years.”
I opened the compartment. Found a small box inside.
A homemade tiramisu. Chocolate script on top—”Honey, safe and happy.”
I took a bite. Sweet.
“Daniel,” I said, turning toward him.
“Yeah?”
He kept his eyes on the road. Profile soft.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let’s go to the store. Get some ribeye. I want your grilled steak.”
“Sure. The butcher you like—black Angus. Anything else?”
“Rosemary and garlic. I feel like rosemary’s growing on me.”
“Whatever you say.”
The morning light cut through the fog. Hit the windshield. The traffic folded us in.
We were just another ordinary couple in this city.
That’s all I ever wanted.