Chapter 14 - The Glass Fortress
The next forty-eight hours transformed the Moretti estate from a luxury sanctuary into an impenetrable glass fortress. Armed snipers were positioned every fifty yards along the perimeter wall. Razor-wire drones monitored the tree line along Lake Michigan.
Yet inside the master bedroom suite, the world felt agonizingly quiet.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to the balcony, watching the gray waves crash against the rocky shore below. I held a warm cup of tea between my palms, but the chill inside my bones wouldn't fade.
A pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around me from behind, encasing me in undeniable warmth. Luca pulled me against his broad chest, resting his chin lightly on the crown of my head.
"You haven't slept more than two hours," he murmured softly.
"I close my eyes and I see my father's face," I admitted, leaning back into his embrace. "All those years, I thought he was just a man with bad luck. A man who walked across the wrong crosswalk on a rainy night. But he was fighting for the truth. Just like I’m fighting now."
Luca turned me gently in his arms, his dark eyes studying every contour of my face with tender intensity. He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"You are stronger than anyone I have ever known, Clara," he whispered. "When you worked in this house, limping across the garden with that swollen ankle, refusing to cry out in pain even when Gianna tormented you... I saw it then. I saw the fire inside you."
"You watched me back then?" I asked, a faint, fragile smile touching my lips.
"Every day," Luca confessed, his voice dropping to a raw, husky whisper. "From the library window. From the balcony. I watched the dignity you carried, even when you had nothing. I hated Gianna every time she spoke to you. And when she lied that morning—saying you twisted your ankle chasing after Nero before I could even ask—I already knew what she was. And I knew who you were."
He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine with a tenderness that completely erased the ruthless mob boss the world feared. In his touch, there was only worship, an absolute surrender to the love that bound us together.
"Tonight," Luca whispered against my lips, "Silvio Bellandi is hosting a gala at the Drake Hotel. He called the neutral families of the Chicago Council, claiming he has the right to vote on my removal as Boss."
I pulled back slightly, my eyes narrowing. "He wants to stage a political execution."
"He wants to pretend he’s a legitimate diplomat," Luca said, a wicked, lethal smirk playing on his lips. "He thinks because New York is watching, I won't dare attack a sanctioned council gala."
"Are we going?" I asked.
Luca reached behind his back and pulled out a long, velvet jewelry box, opening the lid. Inside was a breathtaking tiara crafted of white gold, encrusted with matching emeralds that caught the dim lamplight.
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"We are not going to attack, Clara," Luca said, his eyes gleaming like polished obsidian. "We are going to rule. You are going to wear this tiara, walk through the front doors of the Drake Hotel, and watch me slit Silvio Bellandi’s throat in front of the entire underworld."
***
