Dominic did not wake her immediately.
That surprised Ethan more than anything else.
The old Dominic would have had Emma dragged into the security room, searched, questioned, and possibly delivered to whatever organization had sent her before sunrise.
The man Dominic had become after the shooting was even less patient.
Yet he sat perfectly still, staring at the small silver key trapped beneath Emma’s fingers.
“Recognize it?” Ethan whispered.
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Dominic’s gaze remained fixed on the key.
“My father.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
Anthony Kane had been dead for six years.
To the public, Anthony Kane had been a successful developer and philanthropist.
Inside Harbor City’s criminal world, he had been something else entirely.
Dominic’s father believed trust was a weakness best disguised as generosity. He kept secrets in physical files long after everyone else moved to encrypted servers, claiming paper could not be hacked remotely.
He also used a specific set of handcrafted silver keys.
One for each private archive.
After Anthony died, Dominic had inherited most of them.
One key had disappeared.
The key to an old deposit room beneath a warehouse on Mercer Street.
“What would she be doing with that?” Ethan asked.
Dominic’s jaw worked.
“I don’t know.”
“Should I wake her?”
“No.”
Ethan blinked.
“No?”
Dominic looked down at Emma.
She had shifted slightly but remained asleep.
“Pull her records.”
“I already started.”
“Everything. Employment, family, addresses, medical, debt, who hired her, who recommended her.”
“Dominic—”
“Everything.”
Ethan nodded.
“What about the key?”
Dominic carefully slid it from beneath Emma’s fingers.
She stirred.
He stopped moving.
Emma murmured something.
Not words.
Just the sound of someone too tired even to wake properly.
Her cheek settled more firmly against his leg.
Dominic’s expression tightened.
The irony was not lost on him.
She was resting against a part of his body he could no longer feel, yet somehow he was acutely aware that she was there.
He closed his fingers around the key.
“Let her sleep.”
Ethan watched him for another moment before leaving.
Emma woke forty-six minutes later.
Her eyes opened slowly.
For a few seconds she seemed confused.
Then she realized where she was.
And who she was leaning against.
She jerked upright so quickly she nearly fell.
“Oh my God.”
Dominic watched her.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Emma stared at his leg.
Then at him.
Her face turned red.
“I fell asleep on you.”
“I noticed.”
“I am so sorry.”
“You drool.”
Her eyes widened.
Dominic waited.
Then added, “I’m lying.”
Emma blinked.
Something almost resembling relief passed across her face.
“You’re horrible.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She struggled to stand.
Pain shot through her knee.
Emma gasped and caught the sofa.
Dominic immediately reached for her arm.
His hand closed around her wrist.
Strong.
Warm.
Emma froze.
Dominic froze too.
For one second they simply looked at each other.
Then he released her.
“You shouldn’t be working.”
Emma adjusted her apron.
“Unfortunately, my bills haven’t reached the same conclusion.”
“Why three jobs?”
“That seems personal.”
“You fell asleep on my leg.”
“You brought that up fast.”
“You crossed the personal boundary first.”
Despite herself, Emma smiled.
It was small.
Tired.
Genuine.
Dominic had forgotten how strange it felt when another person’s smile was not motivated by fear, flattery, or calculation.
Emma picked up the cleaning rag.
Then stopped.
She searched the sofa.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Dominic studied her.
Emma checked beneath the cushion.
Then her apron pockets.
Her expression grew uneasy.
“What are you looking for?”
“A key.”
Dominic’s voice remained casual.
“What key?”
Emma hesitated.
That hesitation told him more than the answer.
“A silver one.”
Dominic’s eyes sharpened.
“And what does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer was too immediate.
Emma saw the change in his expression.
“What?”
“Where did you get it?”
She straightened.
“Why?”
“Because you’re standing inside my house at three in the morning carrying something that belongs to my family.”
Emma went still.
Dominic opened his hand.
The silver key lay across his palm.
Her face lost color.
“You took that?”
“It was beneath your hand.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“Mr. Kane—”
“Dominic.”
She stared.
“If we’re going to accuse each other of crimes at three in the morning, formality seems unnecessary.”
Emma’s tired expression became guarded.
“That key belonged to my mother.”
Dominic said nothing.
“She gave it to me years ago.”
“When?”
“Before her stroke.”
“Why?”
“She said if anything ever happened to her, I should keep it safe.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Emma.”
“Nothing I understood.”
Dominic leaned back slightly.
“What is your mother’s name?”
“Linda Harper.”
Something changed.
It was slight.
But Emma saw it.