Chapter 3 - The Gilded Cage
The ride to wherever Dominic Torino lived was terrifyingly silent.
I sat rigidly against the leather door panel, clutching my emerald bracelet like a talisman. Dominic didn't attempt small talk. He was focused on a tablet, typing encrypted messages, entirely absorbed in the shadow war I had just become a pawn in.
I watched his profile. He was undeniably striking, but the danger radiating from him was palpable. He didn't look like a savior; he looked like a predator evaluating his territory.
"You can relax, Nora," Dominic said suddenly, not looking up from his screen. "If I wanted you dead, you'd still be in that service elevator."
"Forgive me if I don't find comfort in the fact that my life depends on your mood," I shot back, the adrenaline finally giving way to a defiant anger.
Dominic chuckled, a low, dark sound that vibrated in the quiet cabin. He locked the tablet and turned to face me.
"You have fire. Good. You’ll need it for Monday," he murmured. "Charles isn't going to surrender his twenty percent just because you fire him. He’ll contest it. He’ll claim you're mentally unfit to run the company, grieving your father, prone to erratic behavior."
My stomach tightened. "He can't prove that."
"He doesn't have to," Dominic countered. "He just has to cast enough doubt for the board to mandate a psychiatric evaluation. Once you're under medical hold, his medical proxy activates. He signs the Chicago deals, and the Falcones get their money."
I felt the blood drain from my face. My father had set up the medical proxy clause years ago, assuming Charles would always protect me. He had unwittingly handed my uncle the perfect weapon.
"How do you know about the proxy clause?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Dominic’s gray eyes were unreadable. "It’s my business to know the vulnerabilities of the empires I share a city with."
The SUV slowed, turning off the main avenue and descending into a private, heavily guarded underground parking garage. The sheer scale of the security was staggering. Men with earpieces and tactical vests nodded as we passed.
"Welcome to the sanctuary," Dominic said as the vehicle stopped.
He stepped out and offered his hand. I ignored it, stepping out on my own, determined not to show him any more weakness than I already had. He didn't seem offended, merely amused, as he led me to a private elevator.
The doors opened directly into a penthouse that rivaled any of the luxury suites in my own hotels. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline, but the interior was surprisingly minimalist. Dark wood, gray stone, and expensive, uncomfortable-looking modern art. It felt sterile. Cold.
"My housekeeper, Maria, will show you to the guest wing," Dominic announced, taking off his tuxedo jacket and tossing it onto a chair.
An older woman appeared silently from a hallway, offering a polite nod.
"Wait," I said, stopping in the center of the vast living room. "I need to know the rest of the plan. If Charles tries to use the medical proxy on Monday, how do I stop him?"
Dominic walked over to a wet bar and poured himself a measure of amber liquid. He took a slow sip before looking at me.
"You don't," Dominic said. "I do."
"How?"
"Because a medical proxy can be overridden by a spouse," Dominic stated calmly, setting his glass down.
The silence in the penthouse was absolute. I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the words.
"A spouse," I repeated, the word tasting strange. "I’m not married."
"You are now," Dominic smiled, pulling a folded document from his inner pocket. He tossed it onto the glass coffee table between us.
I didn't want to look at it, but my eyes were drawn to the thick paper. It was a marriage certificate. State of New York. Signed, sealed, and dated two days ago.
My name was on it.
Nora Windsor Torino.
"This is a forgery," I gasped, stepping back as if the paper were on fire. "I never signed this!"
"You didn't have to," Dominic said, walking toward me. "I own the judge who filed it. Legally, as of forty-eight hours ago, we are husband and wife. Charles’s medical proxy is void. Only I can authorize a psychiatric hold on you."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The kiss in the hallway wasn't just a diversion for the kidnappers. It was the premiere of our performance.
"You forged a marriage to steal my company," I accused, my voice shaking with pure fury. "You’re no better than Charles!"
Dominic’s expression hardened. He closed the distance between us in two strides, invading my personal space, his towering frame forcing me to look up.
"I forged a marriage to save your life," Dominic corrected, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "If Charles kills you, the company defaults to him. If I own your medical proxy, he can't touch you. And if he tries to kill my wife, the entire Torino syndicate will burn him and his Falcone friends to the ground."
"I won't do it," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms. "I’ll go to the FBI. I’ll tell them everything."
"The FBI will put you in protective custody, leak your location to Charles’s moles within the bureau, and you’ll be dead before the trial starts," Dominic countered bluntly. "This is the only play, Nora. You play the devoted wife on Monday. You fire Charles. You block the Chicago deal. And once the Falcones back off, we quietly annul the marriage."
He stepped back, giving me room to breathe.
"You have a choice," Dominic said, gesturing to the elevator. "You can walk out that door right now, and I won't stop you. But you won't make it three blocks before Charles’s men find you."
I looked at the elevator doors. Freedom, and certain death.
Then I looked at the marriage certificate on the table. A gilded cage, but a breathing one.
"Fine," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. "I’ll play the wife."
"Good," Dominic nodded briskly. He turned back to his drink. "Maria will show you to your room. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we have a very important family dinner to attend."
I frowned, confused. "A family dinner? With who?"
May you like
Dominic looked over his shoulder, a dark, dangerous glint in his eye.
"With your Uncle Charles," he smiled. "It’s time to introduce him to your new husband."
