The Mafia Boss Asked a Poor Nurse to Sleep Beside Him and Never Expected Her to Become the One Woman His Enemies Could Not Break
Part 2: “I want you to oversee my recovery for six weeks at my estate.”
“No.”
“You didn’t hear the terms.”
“I heard enough.”
“Private suite. Full salary. Security. Health insurance. Debt cleared. Your brother moved with you.”
The room went silent.
Her fingers went cold.
“Do not talk about Marco,” she said.
Dominic’s expression did not change, but his voice softened. “He’s twelve. Seventh grade. Loves astronomy. Needs braces. You pack his lunch every morning even when you don’t eat breakfast yourself.”
Isla stepped back. “You had no right.”
“I know.”
The admission disarmed her.
He reached for a folder on the bedside table and slid it toward her.
“I had you vetted because I had to know who was close to me. What I found was a woman drowning while pretending she could swim. I’m offering a job, not charity.”
“You don’t get to rearrange my life because you have money.”
“No,” he said. “But I do get to offer you a way out.”
She hated him for saying it.
She hated him more because he was right.
By seven that morning, Isla was in the parking garage beside a black armored SUV, still wearing yesterday’s scrubs, holding a paper bag containing fifty thousand dollars she had not yet dared to count.
Dominic’s head of security, Carter Hale, opened the back door.
“Your brother will be picked up from school at three,” Carter said. “Your apartment will be packed by evening.”
Isla stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Mr. Ashford said you agreed to bring him.”
“I agreed to consider six weeks.”
Carter’s face remained calm. “He considers that a yes.”
“Then Mr. Ashford considers badly.”
For the first time, Carter looked amused.
“Most people don’t talk about him like that.”
“Most people probably have better survival instincts.”
“Maybe,” Carter said. “Or maybe they’ve never had anything worth protecting.”
Isla looked down at the bag of money.
Marco’s face flashed in her mind. His too-small winter coat. His brave smile when the landlord knocked. The way he said, “We’re okay, right, Iz?” even when they both knew they weren’t.
She got into the SUV.
Dominic’s estate sat beyond a gated road north of the city, where old trees leaned over the drive and the river flashed steel-gray beyond the lawn. It was not gaudy. No gold statues. No ridiculous fountains. Just stone walls, black shutters, and quiet power.
Inside, Carter led her up a wide staircase to a guest suite bigger than her entire apartment.
A king bed. A sitting area. A private bathroom with heated floors. Fresh clothes hanging in the closet, all in her size.
Isla touched the sleeve of a soft cream sweater and felt panic rise in her throat.
“This is too much,” she whispered.
“It’s what he ordered.”
“That doesn’t make it less too much.”
May you like
Carter paused at the door. “Medical supply room is two doors down. Mr. Ashford’s room is at the end of the hall. No one enters without permission.”
“Then how am I supposed to monitor him?”
