Chapter 10
The echo of the gunshot rang through the marble foyer, a definitive, brutal conclusion to the betrayal. The accountant slumped to the floor, lifeless. The surrounding capos and lieutenants immediately bowed their heads, the absolute authority of Massimo Pascale cemented once more in blood. No one would ever question his capability to lead, regardless of his physical state.
Massimo’s breathing was heavy, the immense physical strain of standing taking its toll. He holstered the weapon. With a subtle, exhausted nod, he allowed Tessa to gently guide his weight back down. He descended smoothly, dropping heavily back into the sleek black wheelchair.
"Clear the room," Massimo ordered his men, his voice tight with pain. "Double the perimeter guards. We strike the O'Connor strongholds at dawn. I want them wiped off the map."
The men scattered instantly to follow his orders, leaving only Silas to drag the body away.
Tessa remained standing beside the wheelchair. Her heart was racing, the sheer brutality of the mafia world finally sinking in. She had just helped a man stand so he could execute a traitor. Yet, looking down at Massimo, she saw the incredible toll it had taken on him. His hands were gripping the armrests, his knuckles white, his chest rising and falling as he fought through the autonomic misfires racing up his damaged spine.
"Let's get you back to the medical suite," Tessa said quietly, reaching for the push handles.
Massimo didn't lock the wheels. He didn't fight her. He let her pull the chair backward, turning him away from the carnage in the foyer.
They returned to the master bathroom, the site of their explosive confrontation just a few hours prior. The bright video colors of the room seemed muted now. Tessa ran a warm washcloth under the sink and handed it to him, allowing him to wipe the cold sweat and gunpowder residue from his face and hands.
Massimo looked at her reflection in the massive vanity mirror. Her dark hair was still in its messy bun, her navy caregiver uniform unwrinkled despite the chaos. She had not run from him, she had not judged him, and she had quite literally held him up when he needed to prove his strength to the world.
"You didn't flinch," Massimo noted, his deep voice echoing softly against the marble tiles.
"I told you, I've seen worse," Tessa replied, taking the washcloth from him and tossing it into the laundry bin.
Massimo turned his wheelchair to face her. The hostility, the arrogance, and the fury about his dependence were entirely absent. He looked at her with a profound, terrifyingly intense realization. He needed her. Not just as a therapist to keep his skin intact, but as an anchor in a world that was actively trying to tear him down.
"The war with the O'Connors is just beginning," Massimo said, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "This house is not going to be safe for a very long time. I will pay you triple your contract to stay. But if you want to leave, you walk out that door right now, and I will ensure you are protected for the rest of your life."
Tessa stepped forward, placing her hands in the pockets of her light gray apron. She looked at the heavily tattooed, extremely handsome, and utterly ruthless man sitting before her.
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"I don't abandon my patients, Massimo," Tessa said, a fearless, stubborn smile touching her lips. "And we still have to do your lower extremity stretches."
Massimo let out a low, genuine chuckle, the sound entirely foreign in the dark mafia compound. He leaned back in his sleek black wheelchair, ready to face the impending war, knowing he had finally found the one person who would never let him fall.
