Chapter 4 - Dominic Russo’s Rules
Harper did not see Dominic again for eight days.
She expected that.
Maybe she even needed it.
She moved into her sister’s spare room temporarily. She went to work. She answered only the messages that mattered. She blocked Caleb after he began sending apologies that turned into accusations whenever she refused to respond.
Chloe sent flowers.
Harper gave them to the receptionist at her office.
Caleb sent a letter.
Harper put it unopened inside a drawer.
At night, when the apartment was quiet, she sometimes thought about the nightclub.
About the locked door.
About Dominic’s dark eyes and gravelly voice.
She hated that she remembered him so clearly.
But she remembered because, on the worst night of her life, a dangerous stranger had treated her grief with more care than the people closest to her had managed in years.
On the ninth day, a black envelope arrived at her office.
No return address.
Inside was a card for the opening night of a charity art auction at the Bellamy Gallery.
There was no note.
Only a familiar number written in the lower corner.
Dominic.
Harper stared at the invitation for twenty minutes.
Then she called him.
“You sent me an invitation.”
“Yes.”
“To an art auction.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the foundation benefits survivors of domestic violence and financial coercion.”
Harper paused.
“You support that foundation?”
“I support several organizations.”
“Why invite me?”
“I thought you might enjoy the art.”
“That is not an answer.”
Dominic was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “Because I would like to see you again.”
Her pulse shifted.
He did not say he needed to see her.
He did not pressure her.
He did not claim she owed him.
“I don’t date men I accidentally meet in locked rooms,” Harper said.
“That is a sensible rule.”
“You are not offended?”
“I am familiar with sensible rules.”
Harper smiled despite herself.
“I will think about it.”
“Think carefully.”
“I always do.”
“I know,” he said.
She attended the auction.
Not for Dominic.
That was what she told herself.
The Bellamy Gallery was bright, modern, and crowded with donors in tailored suits and glittering gowns. There was no bass vibrating through the floor, no cigar smoke, no briefcases filled with cash.
Dominic stood near a painting of a stormy coastline, dressed in a black suit with no tie.
When he saw her, he did not approach too quickly.
He waited until she came to him.
“You came,” he said.
“I like art.”
“So do I.”
Harper raised an eyebrow.
“You?”
Dominic looked toward the painting.
“My mother painted.”
The answer surprised her.
“She did?”
“She was better than most people knew.”
Something in his voice told Harper not to ask why.
Not yet.
They walked through the gallery together.
Dominic did not touch her.
He did not stand too close.
He simply listened while Harper talked about the paintings she liked and the ones she did not understand.
At one point, a young donor approached Dominic with a nervous smile.
“Mr. Russo, I heard you acquired the old Eastman building.”
“I did.”
“Are you turning it into another club?”
“No.”
The young man looked confused.
“What are you doing with it?”
Dominic glanced at Harper before answering.
“Affordable housing.”
The donor blinked.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Then Dominic moved on.
Harper watched him.
“You are full of surprises.”
“No,” he said. “People simply prefer stories that make them comfortable.”
“You mean stories about mafia bosses?”
He looked at her.
“I mean stories that make a person easier to judge.”
She stopped walking.
“Are you a mafia boss?”
Dominic’s gaze did not shift.
“I run businesses. Some were inherited. Some were built. Some involve people who do not follow the law.”
“That sounds like a very careful answer.”
“It is.”
“Should I be afraid of you?”
Dominic did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “You should always be careful around power. Including mine.”
It was the most honest answer Harper had heard from a man in a long time.
“You could have lied,” she said.
“I do not lie to women I want in my life.”
The air between them changed.
Harper looked away first.
Later, as the auction ended, Dominic walked her toward the exit.
Outside, rain had begun falling gently over the city.
“You have a car?” he asked.
“My sister is picking me up.”
Dominic nodded.
He did not offer to change her plans.
He did not insist.
He simply stood beneath the awning with her.
“Harper,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You should know that Caleb Warren has been asking questions about you.”
Her body went cold.
“What kind of questions?”
“Where you are. Who you are with. Whether you have been speaking to me.”
She turned toward him.
“Why would he ask about you?”
Dominic’s eyes darkened.
“Because he knows who I am now.”
The rain fell harder.
Harper remembered Caleb’s face when he saw Frank outside the apartment.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Not sorrow.
Fear.
“What do I do?” she asked.
Dominic looked at her carefully.
“You tell me what you want.”
“I want him to leave me alone.”
“Then he will.”
The certainty in his voice should have frightened her.
Instead, it made her feel safe.
May you like
And that frightened her more.
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