Chapter 4 - The Housekeeper Who Knew Too Much
The drive back to the Moretti estate was bathed in red and blue reflections as city emergency vehicles sped past us in the opposite direction. Daniel took the back roads, navigating through winding private lanes until the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate loomed out of the mist.
The estate was on complete lockdown. Armed guards in tactical gear were stationed every twenty yards along the perimeter wall. Attack dogs strained at their leashes along the tree line.
When the SUV rolled up to the main portico, Luca stepped out first, immediately turning to offer me his hand to help me down.
"Daniel," Luca ordered as we walked into the grand foyer. "Have the remaining dinner guests escorted home under armed guard. Tell them there was a security breach on the outer perimeter. No details."
"Understood, Boss. What about Miss Bellini?"
"Leave her in the cellar. Let her sit in the dark for another hour." Luca turned to me. "Claire, you're not staying in the staff quarters tonight."
I stopped in my tracks. "Sir? My room in the east annex is perfectly fine."
"The staff quarters are outside the reinforced safe zone of the main house," Luca said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Marco Bellini now knows Unit Seventeen has been breached. He knows his hit team failed. If he sends men to this estate, they will target anyone connected to this discovery. You are staying on the third floor. In the private master wing."
My heart gave an erratic flutter. The third floor was Luca’s private sanctuary. No staff members were ever permitted up there, except for Mrs. Carter during weekly deep cleaning.
"Mr. Moretti, that isn't proper," I protested softly. "I'm an employee."
Luca stopped at the foot of the grand marble staircase and looked down at me. The harsh chandelier light cast sharp shadows across the rugged planes of his face. "An hour ago, you stood between me and a bullet in Cicero. You are no longer just an employee, Claire. You are under my personal protection."
He led me up the sweeping staircase to a spacious, luxurious suite at the end of the long mahogany hallway. The room was breathtaking: a king-sized bed draped in heavy charcoal silk, a roaring stone fireplace, and panoramic French doors overlooking the rain-soaked gardens.
On the nightstand, a silver tray held fresh water, clean bandages, and a fresh bottle of painkillers.
"Take a warm shower," Luca said softly, his voice dropping into a gentle cadence that made my chest tighten. "There are clean clothes in the wardrobe. I'll have Mrs. Carter bring up some broth and tea."
"Thank you, sir."
He hesitated by the door, his eyes lingering on my face. "Claire."
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you give Vanessa the key when she threatened your mother's house?"
I looked down at my bandaged wrist, recalling the sheer terror of that afternoon in the library. "Because I know who you are, Mr. Moretti. You're fair. You protect the people who work for you. If Vanessa was hiding something from you in your own father's house... I knew it had to be evil. I couldn't let her betray you."
A flicker of intense emotion crossed Luca's dark eyes. For a moment, I thought he might step closer, but he simply inclined his head.
"Get some rest," he said quietly. "Tomorrow, the city will shake."
He closed the heavy oak door, leaving me alone in the warm, silent room.
I showered carefully, keeping my injured arm elevated, and changed into an oversized, impossibly soft cashmere sweater from the wardrobe. It smelled faintly of cedar and clean rain—it was Luca's. Wrapping it tightly around myself, I sat by the roaring fireplace, holding a hot cup of chamomile tea that Mrs. Carter brought up twenty minutes later.
Just as the grandfather clock downstairs struck 2:00 AM, a soft knock sounded at the adjoining door.
I stood up, my heart pounding. "Yes?"
The door opened, and Luca stepped inside. He had stripped off his suit jacket and shoulder holster; his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to expose his powerful, corded forearms. In his hand, he held a glass of dark amber whiskey and a file folder.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said quietly, pausing in the entryway.
"You're not disturbing me, sir. I couldn't sleep anyway."
Luca walked over to the armchair across from mine and sat down, resting his glass on the side table. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright with dangerous focus.
"Vanessa's father just called my private line," Luca said.
I tensed. "Marco Bellini?"
"He offered me twenty million dollars in shipping shares and the full control of the Chicago docks if I release Vanessa tonight and forget everything that happened in Cicero."
"What did you tell him?"
May you like
Luca took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes locked onto mine.
"I told him that by sunrise, the Bellini family will no longer exist in this city."
