Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Back Seat
The interior of the black Mercedes Maybach smelled of dark leather, rain, and the faint, citrusy scent of Adrian’s cologne.
Goliath occupied the entire rear floor space, his heavy head resting on his front paws, occasionally letting out a deep, snorting sigh that rattled the tinted windows. Elena sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead through the rain-streaked windshield as the car glided silently through the damp, gray streets of Boston.
They hadn't spoken since leaving Second Chance Paws. The confrontation with Victoria Hale was still hanging in the air between them like smoke from a dying fire.
"She's wrong, you know," Adrian said suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of the engine. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands resting easily on the thick leather steering wheel.
Elena didn't look at him. She watched the neon lights of a diner blur into streaks of red and yellow against the glass. "About what? The part where I don't belong in your world, or the part where I'm a weekend hobby?"
"Both," Adrian said. He didn't hesitate, his voice steady and low. "Victoria lives in a world of names and trust funds. She thinks because her grandfather bought a shipping lane in the fifties, she owns the harbor. She doesn't know anything about the city. And she certainly doesn't know anything about me."
"She seemed to think she knew all about the dog," Elena said, her voice dropping lower. "What did she mean back there? About... his brother's killer dog?"
The car slowed down smoothly as Adrian approached a red traffic light. The streetlights caught the harsh, uncompromising lines of his profile. For a long moment, the only sound was Goliath’s heavy breathing from the back.
"My brother, Julian," Adrian said, each word sounding like it was being pulled out of him by force. "Two years ago. Everyone called it an accident—a boating mishap off the coast of Maine. The yacht capsized in a squall. His body was found three miles out."
Elena turned her head slowly, looking at him. The cold, untouchable mafia boss was gone, replaced by a ghost of a man who looked like he was still standing on a dark dock in the middle of a storm.
"And Goliath?" she asked gently.
"Goliath was on the boat," Adrian said, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. "The coast guard found him swimming circles around the wreckage twelve hours later. He wouldn't let the divers near the hull. They had to sedate him just to get him onto the cutter. When he was brought back to Boston, everyone told me to put him down. They said the trauma had broken him—that a dog who couldn't save his master was a liability. A wild animal."
"So you took him?"
"I took him," Adrian said, the light turning green, the Mercedes moving forward with effortless power. "Not because I wanted a pet. Because Julian loved him. And because when I looked into those yellow eyes for the first time, I realized he wasn't broken. He was just waiting for someone to tell him it wasn't his fault."
Elena felt a lump form in her throat. She looked back toward the rear seat. Goliath had lifted his massive head, his amber eyes fixed on the back of Adrian’s neck with a look of fierce, unblinking loyalty.
"That's why he wouldn't let anyone touch him," Elena whispered. "He thought every hand that reached for him was going to take something else away."
"Until he walked into your shop fourteen mornings ago," Adrian said, glancing sideways at her. "You didn't flinch when he growled. You didn't yell at him to sit. You just sat down on the floor and waited for him to decide whether you were safe."
"Dogs know," Elena said simply. "People are the ones who get confused."
The car turned sharply down a narrow, private lane lined with ancient oak trees, heading toward a grand, iron-gated estate that sat back from the harbor, its stone walls dark against the churning gray water of the Atlantic.
"Where are we?" Elena asked, sitting up straighter as the security gates swung open automatically at the Mercedes' approach.
May you like
"My house," Adrian said. "You're going to have dinner with me, Elena. And then I’m going to tell you why I've been standing in your drafty shop every morning at six o'clock for the last two weeks."
***
