Chapter 4 - The Night He Rested His Head on My Lap
The rain began just after sunset.
By nine o'clock, Chicago's streets reflected the blue and red lights of passing traffic, and our black SUV moved through the city with two security vehicles following behind.
I sat beside Dominic in the back seat.
He hadn't spoken for nearly twenty minutes.
His phone rested facedown against his knee.
Gabriel occupied the front passenger seat, quietly reviewing messages.
Three other guards traveled in the vehicles behind us.
I had become accustomed to their presence.
What I hadn't become accustomed to was watching my husband look as though he was carrying an invisible weight no one else could see.
“Dominic,” I whispered.
He turned.
“You haven't eaten.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“You said that at breakfast.”
“I had coffee.”
“Coffee isn't a food group.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
But I counted it as a victory.
I reached for his hand.
His fingers were cold.
“Tell me what happened.”
He looked toward Gabriel.
Then back at me.
“Someone accessed records from when I was seventeen.”
“What records?”
Dominic hesitated.
“Hospital records.”
I waited.
“When my mother died, I spent eleven days in a psychiatric unit.”
My chest tightened.
He had told me his mother died when he was seventeen.
He had never told me what happened afterward.
“I didn't know,” I said.
“Almost nobody does.”
“Why were you there?”
He stared at our joined hands.
“Because I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. I kept hearing her voice in the house.”
His throat moved.
“And one night, I told my father I didn't want to wake up anymore.”
I held his hand more tightly.
Dominic continued quietly.
“He didn't ask whether I was safe. He told me Kessler men didn't fall apart.”
My eyes burned.
“He had me admitted somewhere private. Then he told everyone I was studying abroad.”
I looked at the man beside me.
The man who controlled companies worth hundreds of millions.
The man whose employees stood straighter when he entered a room.
The man strangers feared without ever meeting.
And I saw a seventeen-year-old boy who had lost his mother and been taught to be ashamed of grieving.
“Dominic,” I whispered, “there was nothing shameful about needing help.”
He looked away.
“Victor has the records now.”
“What does he want?”
“To make me look unstable. Unfit to run the family companies. Unfit to testify.”
I frowned.
“Can he do that?”
“He can try.”
“Then let him.”
Dominic turned toward me.
I lifted my chin.
“Your mother died. You were hurting. You got medical care. That doesn't make you weak.”
He stared at me.
I had never seen him look so unguarded.
“Claire.”
“What?”
His voice dropped.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Would you mind if I just...”
He stopped.
I waited.
Dominic glanced toward the front seats, almost embarrassed.
Then he whispered, “Could I put my head in your lap for a minute?”
My heart broke a little.
Not because the request was strange.
Because he asked as though he expected me to refuse.
I shifted closer.
“Come here.”
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then Dominic Kessler, the man whose name could silence an entire room, slowly lowered himself across the leather seat.
He rested his head against my lap.
His broad shoulders relaxed.
One hand settled gently against my knee.
I slipped my fingers into his dark hair.
He closed his eyes.
Outside, rain streaked the windows.
Inside, the vehicle became very quiet.
Gabriel glanced into the rearview mirror.
Then looked again.
His expression changed so dramatically that I almost laughed.
The driver, Marco, caught the movement and glanced back.
Both men froze.
They had seen Dominic furious.
They had seen him injured.
They had watched him negotiate with men who arrived carrying threats disguised as business proposals.
But apparently neither had ever seen him ask another person for comfort.
Dominic noticed their silence.
Without opening his eyes, he murmured, “Gabriel.”
“Yes, boss?”
“If you say one word, you're walking home.”
Gabriel immediately faced forward.
“Yes, boss.”
I smiled.
Dominic's breathing gradually slowed.
I traced small circles against his scalp.
“You can sleep,” I whispered.
“I don't sleep in cars.”
“You're allowed to start.”
He made a faint sound that might have been laughter.
Then, after a long silence, he spoke.
“My mother used to do this.”
I stopped moving.
“When I was little,” he continued. “If I couldn't sleep, she'd sit beside me and run her fingers through my hair.”
I swallowed.
“What was her name?”
“Isabella.”
“Was she kind?”
“The kindest person I knew.”
I resumed stroking his hair.
“What would she think of you now?”
He didn't answer.
Then he whispered, “I hope she'd forgive me.”
I leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“I think she'd want you to forgive yourself enough to keep changing.”
A tear slipped from beneath his closed eyelid.
I pretended not to notice.
He deserved that privacy.
For nearly fifteen minutes, Dominic remained perfectly still.
And for those fifteen minutes, he wasn't a mafia boss.
He wasn't a businessman.
He wasn't the man everyone expected to have answers.
He was simply my husband.
Tired.
Grieving.
Human.
Then Gabriel's phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His expression hardened.
“Boss.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
“What?”
“We've confirmed who requested the records.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
Dominic slowly sat upright.
Gabriel turned around.
“It was Evelyn Hart's office.”
I stared at him.
“The federal prosecutor?”
Gabriel nodded.
“And that's not all.”
Dominic's voice sharpened.
“Tell me.”
“Someone used her credentials to access your sealed records. The request came from a terminal inside the federal building.”
Dominic went silent.
I felt his hand close around mine.
“Someone is trying to compromise the investigation,” he said.
Gabriel nodded.
Then his phone rang again.
He answered, listened, and went pale.
“Boss, we need to change routes.”
“Why?”
Gabriel looked directly at me.
“Someone just sent Mrs. Kessler a message.”
My phone vibrated in my purse.
I pulled it out.
An unknown number.
One photograph.
It showed Dominic asleep in my lap.
Taken from outside the SUV less than ten minutes earlier.
Beneath it were six words.
Even kings are vulnerable when they love.
I looked up.
The vehicle was still moving.
May you like
Rain covered the windows.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone had been watching us.
