Page 56 of Broken Vows

"No, I'm not staying locked up like some helpless—" She stops when she sees me, switching to English. "I have to go. We'll continue this later."

She hangs up and turns to face me, amber eyes blazing with fury and determination. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About the fact that you think you can keep me prisoner in your ivory tower while you handle family business." She crosses her arms, the gesture emphasizing the slight curve of her belly beneath her sweater. "I'm going back to work tomorrow."

"Absolutely not."

"I wasn't asking permission." Her voice could cut glass. "I have patients depending on me, surgeries scheduled. I'm not abandoning my responsibilities because your psychotic brother decided to start a war."

"My psychotic brother who's been tracking your medical appointments, compromising your security, and targeting our child." I step closer, letting her see the steel in my eyes. "You're not going anywhere until this is resolved."

"Watch me."

Melinda's never backed down from a fight, never shown weakness even when she should. It's what makes her magnificent and infuriating in equal measure.

"You don't understand the level of threat?—"

"I understand plenty." She moves closer, close enough that I can smell her shampoo mixed with the faint scent of antiseptic that always clings to her. "I've been stitching up gunshot wounds since I was sixteen, Vincent. I've seen what your world does to people."

"Then you know why I need to keep you safe."

"Safe?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You think hiding me away keeps me safe? I've spent my entire career in emergency rooms, dealing with the aftermath of violence. I know how to handle myself."

"This is different."

"How? Because it's personal now? Because someone's targeting me specifically?" Her hand moves to her stomach, protective and fierce. "I've been running from this world for years, trying to build something clean. But I can't run from what I am."

"What are you?"

"Mastroni blood. A survivor. Someone who understands that sometimes you have to fight dirty to protect what matters." Her eyes burn with amber fire. "Your brother made this personal when he threatened my baby. Our baby."

The possessive way she says “our” does something to my chest, something warm and dangerous that I've been fighting for months.

"Melinda—"

"I'm not some civilian who stumbled into this mess, Vincent. I was born into it. I know the rules, I know the stakes, and I know that hiding makes you weak." She steps even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "So either we handle this together, or I handle it alone."

The threat in her voice is real. She'll walk out that door and straight into danger if I try to cage her. And part of me—the part that's been captivated by her strength since that night in my penthouse—respects the hell out of her for it.

"Together," I hear myself say.

Her surprise flickers across her face before she covers it with that professional mask. "What changed your mind?"

"You did." I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're right. You're not some helpless civilian. You're Melinda fucking Mastroni, and I'd be an idiot to try to keep you locked away."

"Finally, some sense."

"But," I continue, "you go nowhere without security. You follow protocols. And if things get hot, you listen to me without argument."

"And if you try to control me?—"

"I'll deal with the consequences." I cup her face, thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Just like I'm dealing with them now."

Something shifts in her expression, the anger giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. "Vincent..."

"I know this is fucked up. I know you never wanted this. But we're in it now, together, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you or our child."

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