Chapter 3 - The Unbreakable Gaze
"I said get your hands off me!" Dominic gritted his teeth, the agonizing muscle spasm rippling violently through his thigh.
He grabbed her wrists, his massive, powerful hands easily capable of snapping her delicate bones. He fully intended to physically throw her backward onto the Persian rug.
But when he looked down at her face, he froze.
A tight, cinematic close-up focused entirely on Fay’s expression. The young, penniless maid staring up at the most dangerous man in the city held absolutely zero fear. But more importantly, she held zero pity. Everyone else in the mansion looked at Dominic like a broken, pathetic tragedy. Fay looked at him like a man who just needed to breathe.
"Stop fighting it," Fay said calmly, entirely unfazed by his crushing grip on her wrists. "You're making the muscle tear. Breathe."
Dominic stared at her. For the first time in three months, the suffocating, toxic rage inside his chest flickered.
He slowly loosened his grip on her wrists. He closed his eyes, his broad chest heaving under his unbuttoned white shirt, and took a massive, shuddering breath.
Fay kept her hands firmly pressed against his leg, expertly applying the exact amount of pressure needed to counter the severe neurological spasm.
In the background, the older housekeeper and the towering bodyguard exchanged a look of absolute, breathless disbelief. The untouchable, violent king of the Chicago syndicate was actively allowing a twenty-two-year-old maid to touch him.
Ten agonizing seconds passed. Then, twenty.
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Finally, the violent jerking in his leg slowly subsided.
👉 The physical pain was over, but the emotional bomb Fay was about to drop would completely alter Dominic's reality.
