Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
The moment Leo spoke his first words, the energy in the Moretti mansion shifted entirely.
Rico began coming home earlier. The man who used to spend twenty hours a day in dark smoke-filled rooms in Little Italy was suddenly walking through the front door at 5:00 PM, tossing his suit jacket onto the sofa, and sitting on the floor of the nursery to play wooden blocks with his son.
Watching Rico learn how to be a father again was intoxicating.
He was a terrifying giant, yet around Leo—and around me—his rough edges softened. He listened quietly when I explained Leo’s progress. He watched me with dark, intense eyes that seemed to track my every breath.
One evening, after Leo had finally fallen fast asleep in his bed, I stepped out onto the second-floor balcony to catch the crisp October night air. The autumn wind whistled through the high oak trees surrounding the estate.
"You'll catch a cold out here without a coat."
I turned. Rico was stepping through the French doors, holding two glass tumblers. He wore a black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up, looking devastatingly handsome. He handed me one glass—warm apple cider with a dash of cinnamon—while he took a sip of his amber scotch.
"Thank you," I said softly, taking the mug. The warmth spread through my cold hands.
We stood side by side, looking out over the moonlit grounds. Armed security guards were patrolling the perimeter fences with German Shepherds, their flashlights cutting through the dark woods.
"It’s like living in a castle under siege," I murmured, sipping my cider.
"It is a castle under siege," Rico said quietly, his voice heavy. "It has been ever since my father died, and it got worse when Isabella..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he looked into his glass.
It was the first time he had willingly brought up his late wife.
"What happened to her, Rico?" I asked gently, keeping my tone non-judgmental. "You don't have to tell me if it hurts, but... I see the shadow in this house. Leo feels it too."
Rico stared out at the dark trees for a long time. I thought he was going to dismiss me, but then he spoke.
"It wasn't a random accident," Rico whispered, his voice dark and jagged. "Six months ago, Isabella took Leo to a private beach house in the Hamptons. My security detail was compromised. Someone leaked her location to the Syndicate’s primary rival—the Russo family."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Oh God..."
"They ambushed the house," Rico continued, his eyes turning cold as ice. "My men fought back, but Isabella was hit in the crossfire. Leo was hiding in a linen closet. He heard everything. He saw his mother die in front of him before my backup arrived."
A tear sprang to my eye. I reached out instinctively, resting my hand on Rico’s forearms. His muscles were hard as granite, vibrating with suppressed rage.
"I wiped out the Russo hit squad three days later," Rico said, looking down at my hand on his arm. "I destroyed their distribution hubs. I hunted down everyone involved. But... I couldn't undo what my son saw. I brought the violence to my family's doorstep, Clara. Isabella died because she was married to me. And Leo stopped talking because he thought his voice drew the monsters."
"It wasn't your fault, Rico," I whispered, stepping closer to him, looking up into his tortured grey eyes. "You loved her. And you love Leo."
"I failed them," Rico said fiercely. He reached up, his large hand cupping the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear on my cheek. His touch was warm, surprisingly tender for a man whose hands held so much power. "I swore I would never let another person into this house. I swore I would lock my heart away forever."
He leaned down, his face inches from mine. His hot breath smelled of smoke and cinnamon.
"And then you walked into that restaurant," Rico breathed, his eyes searching mine with a terrifying, desperate hunger. "A fearless girl with warm milk and kindness in her eyes. You brought my son back. And you're driving me insane, Clara."
My heart pounded frantically against my chest. "Rico..."
"Tell me to step back," Rico rasped, his eyes dropping to my lips. "Tell me to leave, and I will. But if you don't..."
I didn't tell him to step back.
I leaned up on my tiptoes and closed the tiny gap between us.
Our lips met in a dark, passionate collision.
Rico let out a rough groan, dropping his glass of scotch onto the balcony table. His broad arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling my body flush against his hard chest. The kiss was possessive, fierce, and filled with months of buried grief, unspoken desire, and deep protection. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sinking into his warmth, feeling the wild beat of his heart against mine.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, staring at each other in the moonlight.
Before either of us could say a word, the heavy wooden balcony door clicked open behind us.
Mrs. Gable stood in the doorway, holding a silver tray of fresh towels. Her eyes dropped from Rico’s arm around my waist to my flushed cheeks. A cold, wicked gleam of pure malice flashed in her eyes.
"Pardon the interruption, Mr. Moretti," Mrs. Gable said smoothly, her voice dripping with artificial politeness. "I just came to inform you that Mr. Julian is downstairs in your study. He says there’s an urgent security breach involving your financial accounts in Miami."
Rico immediately straightened up, his protective demeanor instantly returning. He cleared his throat, stepping in front of me to block me from Mrs. Gable’s sight.
"I’ll be down in a minute," Rico said flatly.
Mrs. Gable bowed her head stiffly and walked away.
Rico turned to face me, taking my hand and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Go inside, Clara. Lock the nursery door behind you."
"Is everything okay?" I asked, suddenly feeling a cold chill run down my spine.
"It's fine," Rico lied softly, smiling to reassure me. "Just business. I’ll see you in the morning."
May you like
As I walked back into the nursery and locked the heavy oak doors, I couldn't shake the sudden, terrifying feeling that Mrs. Gable’s look wasn't just jealousy.
It was a warning.
