Chapter Six: The Agreement
The next hour was a blur of medical terminology and treatment plans.
The partial placental abruption meant the baby wasn’t getting optimal nutrition. Emma would need to be monitored constantly. Any sign of complications, and they’d have to deliver early.
Bed rest was non-negotiable.
She couldn’t even get up to use the bathroom without assistance.
“We’d normally keep you here,” Dr. Morrison said. “But given the circumstances, Mr. Castellano has arranged for a full medical setup at his residence. You’ll have round-the-clock nursing care. And I’ll be checking on you daily.”
“I didn’t agree to that,” Emma said, looking at Dante.
“You need rest and safety,” he replied calmly. “The penthouse has both. And before you argue about independence, remember what the doctor said. You can’t be alone. Not for a single moment.”
He was right.
Damn him.
She couldn’t go back to her tiny apartment above the diner. Couldn’t take care of herself, let alone work.
*She told herself this was survival, not surrender. That she was doing this for the baby, not for him. But the lie felt thin even as she thought it.*
“This is temporary,” she said firmly. “Just until the baby is born.”
“Whatever you need.”
But there was something in his eyes that said he was already planning for more than temporary.
They kept her in the hospital for two more days. Monitoring. Stabilizing. Making sure the baby’s heartbeat stayed strong.
Dante never left.
He slept in the chair beside her bed. Worked from his laptop when she was sleeping. And was instantly alert every time a nurse or doctor came in.
On the third morning, they cleared her for discharge.
A wheelchair appeared. And Dante was there, helping her into it with a gentleness that made her chest ache.
“I can walk,” she protested.
“Doctor’s orders. No unnecessary strain.”
His hand rested briefly on her shoulder.
“Don’t fight me on this, Emma.”
The car was waiting at a private entrance. The same black Mercedes. But this time with a second vehicle full of security.
When Emma raised an eyebrow, Dante’s expression was grim.
“Word is out that I have a pregnant wife. That makes you a target.”
The reality of his world came crashing back.
“A target for who?”
“Anyone who wants to hurt me.”
He helped her into the car, sliding in beside her.
“Don’t worry. No one will touch you. I’ll make sure of it.”
The certainty in his voice should have reassured her.
Instead, it reminded her of exactly why she’d run.
This life. This constant danger. This was no place to raise a child.
But as they drove through the city, Dante’s hand found hers. Lacing their fingers together.
And she didn’t pull away.
The penthouse had been transformed.
What was once a bachelor’s minimalist space now had medical equipment set up in the guest room. Monitors. An emergency kit. Everything needed for immediate care.
A nurse was waiting. A calm woman in her forties who introduced herself as Patricia.
“I’ll be here during the day,” she explained. “Another nurse, Michelle, will take the night shifts. We’re both experienced in high-risk pregnancies.”
Dante guided Emma to the master bedroom.
The bed had been fitted with special pillows for pregnancy. And there was a small refrigerator stocked with healthy snacks within arm’s reach.
“You thought of everything,” she said quietly.
“I had forty-eight hours to prepare while you were in the hospital.”
He helped her onto the bed. Adjusting pillows until she was comfortable.
“I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you’ll actually rest. That you won’t try to do things on your own just to prove a point.”
His hand cupped her cheek.
“I know you’re independent. I know you hate needing help. But for the next month, can you just let go? Let me take care of you.”
The vulnerability in his voice undid her.
This wasn’t the cold mafia boss. The feared Dante Castellano.
This was the man she’d fallen in love with. The one who’d shown her glimpses of who he might have been in a different life.
“One month,” she agreed. “And then we talk about what happens after.”
“After you’ve given birth safely. After you’ve recovered. After—”
He stopped. His thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
“After I’ve had time to show you that I can be what you need.”
“Dante—”
“I know I can’t change what I am. But I can change how it affects you.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Please, Emma. Give me this chance.”
Emma closed her eyes. Breathing in his scent. Feeling the warmth of his skin.
This was dangerous.
Every moment she spent with him. Every tender gesture. Every glimpse of the man beneath the monster.
It was eroding her defenses.
*She thought of the woman she’d been two years ago — terrified, desperate to escape. That woman would be ashamed of her now, falling back into his arms so easily. But that woman had also been alone. Had cried herself to sleep more nights than she could count. Had never stopped loving him, no matter how hard she tried.*
But she was too exhausted to fight. Too drained to run. Too empty to do anything but surrender.
“Okay,” she whispered.
His breath hitched.
Then his lips brushed against her forehead. Soft and reverent.
“Thank you.”
He pulled back. And she opened her eyes to find him watching her with an expression that made her heart stutter.
Possession, yes. But also something deeper.
Something that looked dangerously like love.
“Rest now,” he said softly. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
He started to move away.
But her hand shot out, catching his wrist.
He froze.
“Stay,” she said before she could stop herself. “Just stay until I fall asleep.”
The smile that crossed his face was like sunrise.
He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside her. Careful not to jostle her. His arm came around her shoulders.
Emma found herself curling into his side. Her head on his chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ve got you both. And I’m never letting go again.”
She should have protested.
Should have reminded him that this was temporary.
But his warmth was seeping into her. His presence surrounding her like a shield.
And for the first time in two years, she felt safe.
As she drifted off to sleep, she heard him whisper something else. So quiet she almost missed it.
“I love you, Emma. I never stopped.”
And despite everything. Despite all the reasons she shouldn’t.
Her heart whispered back.
