Page 34 of A Cobbled Conspiracy

Penny nodded vigorously, his pink hair bouncing. “Our shops aren’t just income sources. They’re our homes, our identities. I can’t just… it’s already been too long.”

“But if it’s a matter of safety—” Dominic started.

“It’s a matter of independence,” I said firmly. “I’ve been running my family’s shop since I was twenty. It’s important to me.”

Dominic ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “There has to be a middle ground here. What about hiring additional staff? Security personnel?”

“Security personnel to watch me fix shoes?” I asked skeptically.

“People to help run the shop,” Blake clarified, apparently understanding Dominic’s thinking. “If you had assistants handling routine repairs, you’d have more flexibility for the commission. Less time spent alone in the shop.”

“And someone would be with Penny too,” Dominic added, his protective instincts clearly extending to our entire makeshift family. “Neither of you working alone.”

Penny looked thoughtful. “I could call my moms, see if they want to come help with the boutique until I find someone permanent. They’ve been asking when they can visit anyway.”

I considered this. “I suppose I could use help, especially with Victor’s deadline. But I’m not hiring armed guards to watch me work.”

“What about someone with just the relevant skills?” Blake suggested. “We’ll make sure they’re fully informed of everything. They could handle the basics, sells, and routine repairs while you focus on the complex work.”

“As long as someone’s always with both of you,” Dominic emphasized. “No working alone, especially not until we’ve got a better grip on this. We’ll find suitable assistants for the both of you, and then in a couple of weeks…”

Before anyone could respond further, frustration boiled over. “I’m going to get dressed and get to work,” I announced, pushing back from the counter. “The shop reopens today, with or without everyone’s approval.”

I headed toward the guest room, hearing Dominic’s footsteps following behind me. The bedroom door had barely closed before he was speaking.

“You can’t just?—”

“Can’t what?” I turned to face him, anger finally spilling over. “Can’t run my own business? Can’t make decisions about my family’s shop?”

“Can’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily,” he said, his alpha instincts to protect and to dominate making his voice rougher.

I pulled the prescription bottle from my pocket, shoving it toward him. “Speaking of taking care of yourself, Blake says you need to take these three times a day. When’s the last time you took one?”

Dominic’s expression darkened. “He told you about that?”

“He told me you had a seizure,” I said, my anger mixing with worry. “He told me you could have another one if you don’t take the medication consistently. So when, Dominic?”

“I can take care of myself,” he said with the kind of arrogant dismissal that made my teeth clench. “I don’t need to be managed like a child.”

“It doesn’t feel good to be micromanaged, does it?” I shot back. “Having someone else make decisions about your health or safety without consulting you?”

The parallel hit home. Dominic’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Point taken.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right—about the shop, about the micromanaging, about… everything.”

He took the bottle from my hands, shook out one of the pills, and swallowed it dry without breaking eye contact with me.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my anger already beginning to fade.

I stepped closer, close enough to smell his familiar scent beneath the lingering stress and frustration. “I know you’re worried. I’m worried too. But we can’t live our lives in Blake’s guest room.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just… I can’t lose you. Not after?—”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, tasting coffee and the bitter edge of medication. His arms came around me immediately, pulling me against his chest as if he could absorb me into his bones. The kiss deepened, mutual vexation and anxieties pouring out through touch and desperate connection.

I felt his breath hitch when I pressed closer, my tongue teasing the seam of his lips, begging for entry. He granted it, the kiss growing heated, hungry, until we were both breathing hard against each other’s mouths.

“We should…” Dominic started, but didn’t finish the thought.

“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, though neither of us moved to separate.