Chapter 9 - The Contract of the Heart
Elena walked out of the bakery doors, the warm afternoon breeze catching the sleeves of her white linen shirt. Dominic Cross stood by the passenger door of his car, his tailored suit jacket discarded, wearing a simple white dress shirt with the collar open. The harsh, lethal edge that had governed his presence during the war at the docks had softened, his grey eyes turning warm as he watched Elena approach.
He didn't look past her. He didn't look through her. He looked at her as if she were the only stable point in a chaotic world.
"Miss Brooks," Dominic said, a rare, genuine smile touching his sharp lips as he reached out to open the door for her. "The port authority reports suggest that your sourdough production is up thirty percent. I believe my logistics network is going to have trouble keeping up with your distribution demands."
"I'm a very demanding partner, Mr. Cross," Elena said, her voice light with a playful defiance that caused Dominic’s eyes to flash with amusement. "If your trucks are five minutes late, the yeast dies. And I don't tolerate dead weight in my kitchen."
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"I have twenty private freight lines at your disposal, Elena," Dominic told her, stepping closer until his massive frame was inches from hers, his hand gently rising to cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed a small speck of flour from her jawline, his touch incredibly gentle for a man who controlled the West Coast. "And I have an entire life that was completely blind until you threw yourself into that water. I don't intend to let my driver be late."
Elena looked up into his grey eyes, her heart thumping with a deep, profound certainty. The invisible girl from the harbor district had found her shore. She reached up, her hand resting over his scarred wrist, anchoring him to the pavement as the sounds of the San Diego harbor moved peacefully behind them.
