Chapter 4 - The Bellini Legacy
The room went dead quiet.
The crackle of the wood fire was the only sound echoing through Luca’s private study.
I sat frozen on the rug, my hand resting on Bruno’s velvet blanket, staring at the mud-stained notebook and the rusted steel box sitting on the mahogany desk.
"Her father... murdered your father?" I breathed, my voice barely audible.
Luca stood motionless beside the fire, his profile cut sharp against the orange light of the hearth.
"Twelve years ago," Luca began, his voice flat and measured, like a judge reading a death sentence, "my father’s car exploded outside his restaurant in Little Italy. The police called it a competitive hit by the New York families. My family accepted it. We went to war, took back our territory, and I spent a decade building this empire."
He reached out, his long fingers touching the edge of the leather-bound notebook.
"My father knew he was going to die," Luca continued. "He realized Marco Bellini—his closest childhood friend and business partner—had been feeding financial records to the FBI for three years in exchange for total immunity and control of our shipping docks."
"So your father hid the proof?" I asked.
"He recorded everything," Luca said, turning a page of the yellowed notebook. "Ledgers, recorded phone calls, bank routing numbers, and the original wire transfer Marco used to pay the mechanic who wired the bomb to my father’s engine."
Luca looked over at the sleeping German shepherd.
"My father knew Marco would search the mansion if he died," Luca murmured, his voice softening with a strange, dark affection. "So he built a hidden vault into the concrete floor beneath the old maintenance garage. He sealed it with an electronic keypad lock that required the microchip embedded inside Bruno’s gold collar tag to open."
My mind raced, connecting the terrifying dots.
"That's why Bruno was so important to you," I realized softly. "And that's why Vanessa married you."
A cold, bitter smile touched the corner of Luca’s lips—a smile devoid of any warmth or humor.
"Vanessa didn't care about me," Luca said quietly. "She spent two years getting close to me, waiting for her chance. When I left for Florida on Tuesday, she thought she had everything planned out."
He stepped toward his desk, picking up the small gold collar tag.
"She took Bruno to the garage, locked him inside without food or water, and tried to wrench the tag off his collar. But the ring was welded tight. She couldn't get it off with her hands, and she was too cowardly to use tools on a living dog while he was barking."
My stomach turned over with sickening disgust. "So she left him there to die of dehydration... so he’d stop moving."
"Yes," Luca said, his grey eyes flashing with absolute, unadulterated murder. "She planned to let him die, cut the collar off his corpse, open the vault, steal the evidence box, and have the driver haul both the box and Bruno’s body away to a incinerator in Indiana tomorrow morning before I returned."
He stopped, looking down at me where I sat on the rug.
"Until a twenty-eight-year-old housekeeper from South Chicago broke a lock with a tire iron," Luca added softly.
I looked down at my hands. They were still stained with grime and dried blood from carrying Bruno through the rain.
"I didn't know about any of this, sir," I whispered. "I just couldn't let him suffer."
Luca walked over to me.
He didn't stand over me like a boss. He dropped down onto one knee—the exact same way he had dropped to his knees in the dining room—bringing his face level with mine.
The smell of rain, expensive cedar cologne, and faint gunpowder clung to his leather coat.
"I know, Emma," Luca said softly. His massive, calloused hand reached out and gently cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized I was crying. "You have more honor in your little finger than the entire Bellini bloodline has in their history."
My heart executed a violent, erratic leap against my ribs. My breath caught in my throat as I looked straight into his grey eyes, seeing not the terrifying Phoenix of Chicago, but a man who had been surrounded by snakes his entire life, finally looking at someone he could trust.
He pulled his hand back slowly, standing up to his full height.
"Mateo," Luca called out.
The heavy door opened, and Mateo stepped into the room. "Yes, boss?"
"Where is Vanessa?"
"She's downstairs in the wine cellar, guarded by Frank and Tony," Mateo reported. "She's crying, demanding to see her lawyer, and screaming that her father will ruin us."
Luca let out a short, quiet laugh that sent a cold shiver straight down my spine.
"Call Marco Bellini," Luca ordered smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his torn tuxedo shirt. "Tell him his daughter had a sudden medical emergency at the estate. Tell him to come alone, through the back service gate, within thirty minutes."
Mateo’s eyes flared with understanding. "And if he brings security?"
"He won't," Luca said flatly, looking down at the muddy steel box on his desk. "Marco is a coward. He thinks he won the war twelve years ago. He'll come to protect his precious daughter."
Mateo nodded, turning on his heel and exiting the study.
Luca turned back to me. His expression softened once again.
"Emma, I want you to take my private car. My driver will take you, your mother, and your younger brother to my secure villa in Lake Geneva tonight."
I blinked, startled. "What? Sir, no—my mother has work tomorrow, and my brother—"
"Your mother and brother are in danger as long as Marco Bellini is breathing," Luca interrupted gently, but with absolute authority. "The moment Marco realizes the game is up, he will strike at anyone connected to this house. You saved my father's legacy tonight, Emma. It is my duty to ensure no harm comes to yours."
I looked at Bruno, who stirred slightly in his sleep, his tail giving a faint thud against the velvet sofa.
"What about Bruno?" I asked softly.
Luca looked down at the old shepherd, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips.
"Bruno travels with you," Luca said, reaching out to gently pat the dog's head. "In my heated SUV, with Dr. Stevens' medical assistant. He'll be waiting for you in Lake Geneva when you wake up tomorrow morning."
I stood up from the floor, my legs shaking slightly from exhaustion and adrenaline.
"Thank you, Mr. Moretti," I whispered.
May you like
Luca stepped closer to me. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a heavy silver key on a braided leather strap, and pressed it into my palm, folding my fingers over it.
"This is the key to the Lake Geneva estate," Luca said, his grey eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my skin tingle. "You are not a servant there, Emma. You are my guest. And when I finish cleaning my house tonight... I will come to yours."
