The Mafia Boss's Secret Lover (by Z·Nyra) novel Chapter 8

**Broken Skies Heal by George Orwell**

**Chapter 8**

As dawn broke over Chicago O’Hare, the airport buzzed with the frenetic energy of travelers rushing about, their lives intersecting for fleeting moments. It was precisely 6 AM when Dominic’s plane landed, and I found myself perched in the parking garage across from the private terminal. The binoculars I clutched were borrowed from a sporting goods store I had passed the night before, their weight oddly comforting in my hands. Elena Rossi had learned to pay cash for everything—after all, ghosts left no credit trails behind them.

Dominic stepped off the jet looking casual yet striking in jeans and a leather jacket. There was no formal suit, no entourage trailing in his wake; only Gabriel, his loyal companion, hovered beside him like a concerned shadow. Even from my vantage point, I could decipher the tension radiating from him. His body was coiled tight, a storm of barely suppressed rage simmering beneath the surface. He moved through the world as if it were an extension of himself, a place where everything belonged to him until it was snatched away.

In his mind, I was still his. That much was clear.

They climbed into a sleek black SUV and sped off toward the city, and I fell in line three cars back, careful to keep my distance. My heartbeat was steady, a rhythm I had learned to maintain through years of practice. Dominic had schooled me in the art of surveillance; I had been his ghost for a decade, honing my skills in the shadows, mastering the art of invisibility. Now, that very skill was my lifeline.

They pulled up to a hotel in River North—an expensive, anonymous establishment, the kind of place where men like him engaged in business dealings that left no trace. I parked my Honda two blocks away, the engine humming quietly as I settled in to wait.

As the clock struck noon, a second SUV rolled in, and Mikhail Volkov stepped out, his imposing figure unmistakable. This was no simple extraction; this was a negotiation. The Volkovs and the Cavallos were gathering to discuss their missing asset—me.

I dialed Gabriel’s number, my heart racing at the thought of what might unfold.

“Where are you?” he answered without hesitation, his voice tinged with urgency.

“Close enough to see the hotel. Why is Mikhail here?” I asked, my mind racing with possibilities.

Gabriel swore under his breath in Italian. “Natalia insisted. She believes Dominic’s been hiding you. She wants proof you’re really gone.”

“And what about Dominic?” I pressed, my stomach tightening.

“He’s telling them you left voluntarily. That he doesn’t know where you are.”

“Is that the truth?”

Silence enveloped the line before he replied. “He knows you’re in Chicago. He has people watching your building.”

“I saw them,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Leave, Aria. Right now. Drive somewhere else. Iowa, Minnesota, even Canada. Just go.”

“I have school,” I protested, the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on me.

“You have a death wish if you stay,” he shot back, his concern palpable.

Just then, the hotel doors swung open. Dominic and Mikhail emerged, their movements taut with unresolved tension. Dominic’s gaze swept the street, and for a fleeting moment, I felt a jolt of panic—what if he saw me? But the Civic was a mere shadow, and Elena Rossi was just another face in the bustling crowd of Chicago.

“Tell him something for me,” I instructed Gabriel, my voice steady.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, curiosity mingling with concern.

“Tell him I don’t need his protection. Or his building. Or his fucking guilt. Tell him Elena Rossi is doing just fine without him.”

I hung up, my heart pounding as I drove to the one place they wouldn’t think to look for me—the cosmetology school. It was Saturday, but the building remained open for practice hours. I spent the afternoon giving free haircuts to mannequins, the repetitive motion soothing my frayed nerves.

But at 4 PM, the power flickered and then went out entirely.

The backup generator should have kicked in, but it didn’t. The emergency exits remained shrouded in darkness, a clear sign that someone had deliberately cut the power.

Grabbing my bag and the file from under the workstation, I peered through the front windows and spotted the black SUV parked across the street. Dominic leaned against it, arms crossed, an impenetrable wall of resolve as he waited.

He had found me.

I slipped out the back door and into the alley, but before I could take three steps, he materialized from the shadows, moving with a predatory grace as if he had molded the darkness around him.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

I raised the file, my heart racing. “Defending myself.”

His gaze dropped to the metal in my hand, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “You kept one.”

“I kept what was mine,” I replied defiantly.

He stepped closer, and I instinctively circled, maintaining a safe distance. The alley felt constricting, the brick walls looming around us, leaving no escape except through him.

“You disappeared,” he accused, his tone heavy with unspoken blame.

“You told me to. Conveniently remember?” I shot back, my frustration boiling over.

“I didn’t tell you to vanish. I told you to… transition.”

“Transition into what? Your kept ghost? No thanks,” I retorted, anger flaring within me.

“Aria—”

The ultimatum hung in the air, heavy with tension. Mikhail’s expression darkened, his voice low and menacing. “You’d end this for a woman you fired?”

“I’d end this for a principle.” Dominic’s voice was resolute, unyielding. “We don’t kill civilians. We don’t hunt ghosts. That’s not who we are.”

It was a lie, one we both knew well. We had killed. We had hunted. But in this moment, it was the right lie, spoken to the right man.

Mikhail’s gaze locked onto mine over Dominic’s shoulder. “If she speaks—”

“She won’t speak. She never has.” Dominic didn’t look at me; his focus remained on Mikhail. “She’s good at silence.”

The men lowered their weapons, and Mikhail spat on the ground, his frustration palpable. “The engagement party is tomorrow night in New York. If you’re not there, the deal’s dead.”

“I’ll be there,” Dominic replied, his voice firm.

With that, they departed, leaving the alley cloaked in silence, save for the distant hum of traffic and our synchronized breathing.

“You could have let them take me,” I said, my voice trembling with the weight of our encounter.

“I could have.” He finally turned to face me, his expression inscrutable. “But then I’d have to explain to myself why I spent ten years creating something perfect just to watch it be destroyed.”

“I’m not perfect.”

“No. But you were mine.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it pierced my heart. “And I don’t share. Not even with my own stupidity.”

He walked away, leaving me alone in the alley with a file in my hand and a monumental decision looming over me. Elena Rossi had her freedom, purchased with Dominic’s protection. Aria Moretti had her pride, paid for with ten years of unwavering devotion.

Yet neither of them possessed what they truly desired.

I drove back to my apartment, packing the few belongings I had left. Chicago felt compromised, tainted by the shadows of my past. But I had wheels, I had money, and I possessed a name that nobody could strip away from me.

I also held something unexpected: Dominic’s unspoken confession, delivered in a grimy alley with guns poised at our hearts.

I had been mistaken about one crucial detail. The chains weren’t shackled to him; they were tethered to who I had been during our time together.

And Elena Rossi was learning how to pick locks.

The engagement party was set in New York, which meant Dominic would be gone for three days.

Three days was more than enough time for a ghost to become invisible once again. This time, for real.