Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Salvatore Moretti
The name hung in the cedar-scented air like a detonated grenade.
Salvatore Moretti.
Luca’s uncle. The former underboss of the Moretti syndicate.
The man who had supposedly burned to death in a warehouse explosion off the Brooklyn docks five years ago—an explosion that had cleared the path for the Bellini family to broker their grand alliance with the Morettis.
Luca didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.
His knuckles turned snow-white where he gripped the edge of his mother’s open cedar chest.
“Say that again,” Luca commanded, his voice dropping into a register so dark it sent a shiver straight down my spine.
“Miss Bellini said his name clearly, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, leaning against the doorframe to support my throbbing ribs. “She said, ‘Salvatore died in Brooklyn. My father made sure of it.’ Then she realized I was standing by the linen press, panicked, and shoved the preservation box into my chest.”
Luca stared through the window into the pitch-black estate grounds below.
Down in the courtyard, luxury sedans were idling as guests prepared to leave the dinner party. Vanessa was likely downstairs right now, charming city council members, sipping vintage champagne, and laughing as if she owned the ground she walked on.
“My father died of a broken heart a year after Uncle Sal was killed,” Luca murmured, more to himself than to me. “And Vanessa’s father was the first man to console him. The first man to offer financial backing to rebuild our shipping lines.”
He turned around slowly. The cold, controlled mafia don was gone; in his place stood an apex predator calculating the most efficient way to tear an entire empire apart.
“Daniel,” Luca said into his phone, having redialed his head of security.
“Boss?”
“Lock down the estate. Do not allow Vanessa Bellini or her father’s drivers to leave the gates under any circumstances. Tell the gatehouse there is a mechanical failure with the outer hydraulic barriers.”
“Understood.”
“And Daniel?”
“Yes, Luca?”
“Bring the head of our private cyber intelligence unit to my study in five minutes. And send two armed guards to stand outside Hannah’s quarters. If anyone so much as looks in her direction, put a bullet in their leg.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Mr. Moretti... you don’t have to do that for me.”
Luca walked across the room until he was standing directly in front of me. At six-foot-three, he towered over my petite frame, but there was no threat in his posture toward me—only an intense, protective gravity.
He looked down at the pale, exhausted lines of my face, his eyes lingering on the tight medical wrap visible beneath my collar.
“You took a blow meant to protect my mother’s dignity, Hannah,” Luca said softly. “You suffered in silence all evening because a Bellini threatened your family. In this house, loyalty is paid in blood and protection. You will never have to fear Vanessa or her father again. Do you understand me?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. For ten months, I had been an invisible ghost in this grand mansion, scrubbing floors, polishing silver, and dodging the petty cruelties of high-society heiresses. Nobody had ever stood between me and the people who held power over my life.
“Thank you, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered.
“Come,” he said, extending a hand to lightly support my uninjured right elbow. “You’re not sleeping in the basement staff quarters tonight. You’re moving to the fourth-floor guest suites.”
“Sir, the staff rules—”
“I write the rules in this house,” Luca stated without arrogance, just absolute truth.
He escorted me up the private spiral staircase to the fourth-floor penthouse wing—a luxurious, secure level normally reserved for visiting dignitaries and Luca’s closest captains. He personally unlocked the master guest suite, which had plush carpeting, a roaring gas fireplace, and a massive king-sized bed with down pillows.
“Rest,” he instructed. “Dr. Harris will check on you again at midnight. Take the medicine. Do not leave this suite until I come get you.”
“What are you going to do downstairs?” I asked hesitatingly.
May you like
A terrible, beautiful smile touched the corner of Luca’s lips.
“I am going to play the doting fiancé for another two hours. And then, I am going to dismantle everything the Bellinis have built.”
