Chapter 3 - Morning Repercussions & Hidden Contracts
"You cannot do this to me!" Isabella’s voice rose to a shrill shriek that shattered the midnight calm. "My father is the primary investor in your North Atlantic shipping terminal! If you break our engagement, he will pull fifty million dollars out of Moretti Global before the market opens on Monday!"
Luca didn't blink. He walked slowly around his desk until he was standing merely inches away from Isabella. The sheer disparity in their presence was staggering; where she was vibrating with frantic, petulant rage, he was an immovable mountain of cold authority.
"Your father’s investment represents four percent of our portfolio, Isabella," Luca said, his words measured and lethal. "If he pulls his capital, I will buy out his stake at a thirty-percent discount before lunch. You tell Arthur Vance that if he speaks a single word about this breach of contract to the press, I will release this footage to the district attorney. Assault on domestic staff is a felony in this state."
Isabella gasped, her chest heaving. "A felony? Over *her*?" She threw a manic, venomous glare in my direction. "She’s a nobody! Look at her! She’s a stray you picked off an agency roster!"
"She is my daughter’s caregiver," Luca snarled, his voice finally breaking into an open, terrifying growl. "And she was hurt under my roof while protecting my child’s peace. Get out of my office. Marco is outside the door. He will escort you to the guest suite, where you will pack until dawn. If you are still on the property when Sofia wakes up, you will leave in the back of a police cruiser."
The door opened precisely at that moment. Marco, a hulking former military contractor with a scarred jaw and sharp eyes, stood in the threshold. He didn't speak; he simply held the door open, his posture signaling no room for negotiation.
Isabella realized she had lost.
She turned her venomous gaze back on me, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You think you won something tonight, little girl?" she hissed beneath her breath. "Men like Luca don't keep women like you around for anything other than charity. Enjoy your ice pack. It won't save you from what’s coming."
With a dramatic swirl of her silk robe, she stormed out into the hall. Marco followed closely behind, pulling the doors shut until the latch clicked shut with finality.
Silence returned to the room, heavier than before.
I sat frozen in the oxblood chair, my hands gripping the armrests so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My ankle was throbbing in time with my racing heart.
"Mr. Moretti," I began, my voice barely audible. "I... I never wanted to cause this. The alliance with her family—"
"Be quiet, Emma."
Luca rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, weary breath. He looked tired now. The fierce predator from moments ago was replaced by a father carrying the crushing weight of an empire. He walked over to the leather sofa against the wall, grabbed a cashmere throw blanket, and brought it over, draping it over my lap.
"The engagement was a mistake from the beginning," Luca said quietly, leaning back against the edge of his desk. "Arthur Vance presented it as a mutual benefit after my wife, Claire, died two years ago. He thought Sofia needed a mother, and my board thought I needed stability. But Isabella never cared for my daughter. Sofia was merely an obstacle to the Vance family cementing their name to mine."
"She’s just a child," I murmured softly. "Sofia didn't deserve that."
"Neither did you." Luca’s eyes bore into mine, intense and unshielded. "Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you call for help when you fell?"
I looked down at the soft cashmere covering my knees. "Because Sofia was downstairs waiting for her story. If I caused a scene, she would have been frightened. And... people from my background don't make accusations against women like Isabella Vance. No one believes us. We just get fired."
A muscle ticked in Luca’s jaw. "You are not getting fired. You will never be dismissed from this house for telling the truth."
He reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone, and dialed a private number.
"Dr. Evans," Luca spoke into the receiver. "I need you at the estate in thirty minutes. Bring a portable x-ray unit. It’s an ankle injury." He paused, listening to the doctor on the other end. "No, not Sofia. Emma. The most important person in this house."
My breath hitched at his words. *The most important person in this house.*
Luca hung up the phone and looked back at me. Before I could process what he had said, he bent down, hooked one arm under my shoulders and the other under my knees, and lifted me effortlessly out of the chair.
"Mr. Moretti! What are you doing?" I cried out, my hands instinctively reaching out and clutching the fabric of his white shirt to keep from falling.
"I am carrying you to the guest suite on the ground floor," he answered matter-of-factly, carrying me across the room toward the double doors. "You aren't taking another step on that foot tonight."
His chest was broad, warm, and rock-solid against my side. I could smell the subtle scent of cedar and clean skin radiating from him. My face burned with an intense heat that had nothing to do with fever. For two months, I had seen him as a distant, untouchable titan of industry. But held against his chest, hearing the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart, the boundary between master and servant felt entirely blurred.
He carried me down the grand hallway, the chandeliers casting long shadows behind us. He kicked open the door to the ground-floor guest room—a luxurious suite with a king-sized bed and French doors leading out to the terrace—and gently lowered me onto the down mattress.
He pulled the sheets over my legs, then lingered by the edge of the bed for a moment longer than necessary.
May you like
"Rest," Luca whispered, his thumb grazing my cheek so briefly I almost thought I imagined it. "The doctor will be here shortly. Tomorrow, everything changes."
***
