Chapter 48
~Dominic~
The soothing scent of vanilla greets me as I wake, more comforting than anything I’ve known in the six months since Elle left.
I haven’t slept peacefully in all that time.
My eyes open to find my angel’s face, serene in slumber, only inches from mine.
A curtain of silky black hair spills across my chest, and I twirl a few strands between my fingers, lifting them to my nose.
Last night, I intended to clear away the misconceptions Elle carries about our marriage, but exhaustion claimed her before I could. Holding her in my arms again brought me a peace I’d forgotten existed. Without her, I’ve been surviving—but not truly living.
She’s been here all along, hidden in plain sight. I smile at her cleverness. By changing her name so slightly—Ellen Thom—she ensured I couldn’t trace her. If not for Dante’s injury, I would still be searching, blind to the fact that my wife was right under my nose.
My chest tightens as I recall how close I came to losing my brother.
For the first time, I truly understand the desperation Dante felt months ago when I was injured—why he kidnapped Elle in a frantic attempt to save me.
Last night, my Angel saved me again. Had my brother been taken from me, I’m not sure I would have made it through.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s the reason Elle has returned to me.
The shock of seeing my wife again left me utterly speechless—a reaction only she could provoke.
At first, I doubted my own senses, uncertain if I could trust what I saw after hearing that beloved voice.
A voice I’d heard only in dreams these past months.
The urge to pinch myself was overwhelming, but the stunned expressions on Dario and Jimmy’s faces confirmed it was real.
She saved my brother, then vanished from the room before I could barely form words. Her pregnant state left me stunned, silenced in a brief mutism I couldn’t shake.
The realization that she kept it from me cuts deep.
Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about that.
I don’t know how to feel—but can I really blame her, after the way I made her feel?
. My wife is pregnant and she’s alone. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.
I made her think that she was unwanted. Countless times over these months, I’ve wished I had left Berisha’s mansion with her, instead of chasing vengeance—prioritizing Salvatore and Berisha’s downfall over the woman I love.
Elle had been kidnapped, forced to hear me reject her and our marriage.
And what did I do? I stayed behind to deal with Alban Berisha and my bastard uncle, instead of seizing the first chance to explain that I hadn’t meant a word of it—that I was buying time, protecting her.
I foolishly believed she’d wait at home for me, that I’d finally be able to confess my love.
I expected too much from her, even after everything she’d endured. I was an idiot.
Then she vanished, and I spent months searching for my wife.
Now that I’ve found her, I’m determined to make it right.
Last night, I had my men follow her home while I waited outside her building.
When she appeared with another man’s arm around her, I wanted to end him.
He’s lucky I didn’t see him as a real threat.
For now, I’ll tolerate him—because my wife seems to be fond of him.
Elle let out a soft moan, pulling me back to the present.
A faint smile lifted her lips, clearly born of some dream.
She nestled closer, her rounded abdomen pressing against my side.
Unable to resist, I placed my palm on her belly.
For a few moments I savored the contact—then a flicker of movement stirred beneath my hand.
I gasped, startled, as something shifted inside me that I couldn’t quite name.
In that instant, a bond formed with my unborn child. There is no doubt that the baby Elle carries is mine. I know the kind of woman my wife is—faithful, steadfast. She wasn’t promiscuous before we met, and I cannot believe she would be now.
As for Sam, I don’t yet know his place in her life, but I’m certain he isn’t her lover. If he were, he wouldn’t still be breathing.
Now that I’ve found my Angel, I’ll never let her slip away again.
Protecting them both is my purpose now. I’m going to be a father—and the thought fills me with a happiness I haven’t felt in months.
As our child’s movements grow stronger, I chuckle, my face breaking into a grin I’d almost forgotten how to make. It feels good to smile again.
My gaze shifts to Elle. She’s watching me, her eyes locked on mine while my hands rest over her abdomen. “Morning, Angel,” I murmured. Confusion flickers across her face.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice soft, her beauty heightened by the remnants of sleep.
“What do you mean?” I fail to hide my amusement.
“I… I mean, what are you doing here, in my bed, Dominic?” A few strands of hair fall across her cheek. I wind one around my finger, teasing. “Why, my dear wife, isn’t it obvious?” She leans unconsciously closer as I brush my thumb against her cheek. “I was sleeping.”
Elle pushes my hand away, exasperated. “Why are you sleeping here, Dominic? I don’t remember inviting you.”
My other hand remains on her abdomen. She doesn’t move it away—I notice. Neither of us speaks of it, though the baby’s movements intensify between us.
“You’re my wife,” I say quietly. “My place is here, beside you.” God, how I’ve missed her.
“No, it’s not. You bullied your way into my apartment to talk—and instead, you invited yourself into my bed.” She pushes at my arm, struggling to roll away, but her swollen stomach makes it awkward. I can see how badly Elle wants distance between us. Her effort is almost endearing.
“Here, let me help you, Angel.”
She huffs the moment she’s off the bed, then bolts from the room without a word. I chuckle softly, listening as the bathroom door slams shut. My Angel is as stubborn as ever.
A buzz from my phone interrupts the silence. Dario’s message assures me all is well at the hospital with Dante. Still, we don’t know who orchestrated the attack. Guards keep watch to ensure no one reaches my brother. The thought of his injuries smothers the good mood I’d been clinging to.
It was still early. A glance at Elle’s bedside clock read six thirty.
Reluctantly leaving the bed, I waited for her in the kitchen.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, breakfast was already on the table.
She paused, conflicted, hovering beside the meal.
I watched her silently, until the growl of her stomach forced my stubborn wife to give in.
She sat opposite me, and I took quiet pleasure in watching her devour the eggs, bacon, and toast.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I asked, setting down my empty coffee cup.
She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, breaking eye contact after only a few seconds, folding the cloth with unnecessary care.
Uneasy. When I began to think she wouldn’t answer, she finally spoke.
“No. Not after you made it clear how you feel about me.” “So, you were going to keep my child from me?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself, then lifted her gaze. Pain shadowed her expression, lashes heavy with unshed tears. She blinked quickly, trying to chase them away, and my chest tightened—I couldn’t bear to see my angel cry.
“When I suspected, I wanted to tell you, Dominic. But you made it clear you didn’t want me in your life. You treated me like nothing more than an obligation. Why wouldn’t I believe you’d feel the same about a baby?”
I reached for her hands. “Look at me, Elle. I want our child.”
Her fingers stiffened beneath mine, and she tried to pull away. “No! Never, Dominic. I won’t let you take my baby from me.” I tightened my hold, my voice breaking into a plea. “Angel… please, look at me.”
She stubbornly refuses but after a few seconds she gives in.
“You misunderstand me Angel, I want you both. I love you, Elle. When you left me, the light went out of my life. I was iShe resisted at first, but after a few moments she relented. “You don’t understand me, Angel. I want both you and our child. I love you, Elle. When you left, the light vanished from my life, and I was thrown back into darkness. I regretted every missed chance to tell you how I felt. I’ve never been good at expressing my emotions.
When you told me you loved me, I was already hopelessly in love with you—but I was afraid. I didn’t know how to say the words.”
My Angel remained silent, but the more I laid my heart bare, exposing my fears, the lighter I felt.
“The things you heard me say that night weren’t the truth, Angel.
When I realized they planned to hand you over to a madman, I had to convince Berisha and my uncle that you didn’t mean everything to me—so they wouldn’t hurt you.
It was the only way I could protect you until my men arrived.
I knew they would come. I just needed to buy us time. ”
By now, tears streamed down her cheeks as sobs shook her body.
I reached out to wipe them away, and she leaned into my touch.
“I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I saw you.
Never doubt that. Yes, I owe you my life—but if protection was all I sought, there were other ways.
I married you because I needed you in my life. I love you, Angel. Can you forgive me?”
Elle held my gaze for several long seconds before nodding.
She wrapped both of her hands around mine and lifted them to her lips.
That unexpected gesture spoke of forgiveness, snapping me into motion.
I rose so quickly my chair toppled to the floor.
By the time I pulled her into my arms, we were both laugh-crying, clinging to each other in relief.
“I love you, Angel,” I whisper. “I love you too, Dominic.” Her reply sends my heart racing.
She presses her mouth to mine, and we lose ourselves in the kiss.
Her fingers tangle in the hair at my nape, her touch igniting me.
I cup the fullness of her breasts, her soft moans driving me to the edge.
Desire surges, my body straining against her—until the press of my arousal against her swollen abdomen jolts me back.
The reminder of her pregnancy douses me like cold water.
God, I need to slow down.
Reluctantly, I pull back, unwilling to risk hurting her—or our child. My voice is rough when I speak. “I missed you, Angel. But I don’t want to hurt you.” She steps from my embrace, shaking her head. “You didn’t.”
Before either of us can say more, a knock rattles the door. Elle rushes to open it without hesitation. My jaw tightens—she doesn’t even check who it is.
“Morning, Elle darling,” Sam greets, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Reckless. Infuriating. My wife glances back at me, and the air between us thickens with unspoken tension.
“You’re heading to work? We can go together,” he offered. “I’ll be taking my wife,” I said firmly as I stepped into the doorway, positioning myself between them. Sliding an arm over Elle’s shoulder, I pulled her back against my chest—a reminder of where she belonged.
Sam’s only response was a raised brow and a grin, clearly amused by my display of possessiveness. “Sam, Dominic will come with me today. We’ll catch up later.” “Alright, darling.” The bastard blew her a kiss before leaving. He has a death wish.
As the door shut, Elle turned to me, arms folded. “What was that about?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Sam is my friend, Dominic. We’ll talk about this later. I need to get to work and check on Dante.” She grabbed her bag and coat.
“Should you be working in your condition?” I asked.
Elle froze mid-motion, her arm halfway in a sleeve.
She shook her head, exasperated, rolling her eyes.
“No, Dominic. I’m pregnant, not sick.” She finished dressing and headed for the door, not waiting to see if I followed—making it clear she intended to keep working, at least for now.