CHAPTER 8
throat as she stared into his dark, earnest eyes.
She realized then that during all those months she thought she was alone in her struggle, Mateo had been watching over her, shielding her from the shadows.
He hadn't just saved her life on that cold kitchen floor; he had recognized her intelligence, her strength, and her worth when everyone else treated her like garbage.
"Mateo..." she whispered, her eyes brimming with happy tears as she reached up with her free hand to touch his strong, scarred jaw. "I thought I would never be able to trust a man again."
"I don't ask for your trust blindly, Claire," Mateo said, taking her hand and pressing a tender kiss against her palm. "I will spend the rest of my life earning it every single day."
A month passed in a glorious, peaceful blur of recovery, bonding, and a deep, passionate romance blooming between Claire and Mateo.
Mateo officially dismantled his illegal syndicate operations, using his vast fortune to transition entirely into legitimate global logistics and philanthropy.
He purchased the finest art supplies for Claire, encouraged her to pursue her long-lost dream of architectural design, and treated Alexander as if he were his own flesh and blood.
One evening, while sitting by the roaring stone fireplace in the main living room, Mateo received a secure video call on his satellite phone.
May you like
He connected the display to the main wall screen, allowing Claire to see the interior of a federal prison visitor room in upstate New York.
Grant Whitmore sat behind the thick bulletproof glass, wearing an orange jumpsuit, his hair messy, his face hollow, and his eyes completely broken.
