Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Shadows
By dawn, Hunter’s entire reality had been torn apart and reconstructed.
She sat on the edge of a massive king-sized bed in the grand suite opposite the nursery. The room was larger than the entire apartment building she had grown up in. High vaulted ceilings, dark mahogany paneling, Egyptian cotton sheets, and a private balcony overlooking the vast, iron-gated estate.
A team of three female housekeepers—women who had ignored Hunter in the basement breakroom just yesterday—were now silently folding cashmere sweaters and placing high-end silk robes into her walk-in closet.
Standing near the balcony doors was Gideon, Lorenzo’s chief enforcer. He was a terrifying man with a jagged scar running from his ear to his collarbone, but he looked at Hunter with a strange, profound reverence.
"The Don has ordered twenty-four-hour security outside your door, Miss Higgins," Gideon said, bowing his head slightly. "If you require anything—a specific meal, clothing, medical attention—you tell me immediately. No one enters this floor without my personal clearance."
Hunter held little Leo close to her chest. The baby had fed twice more through the night, gaining a tiny bit of color and warmth that had entirely eluded the team of high-priced doctors. He was sleeping soundly, his small thumb tucked into his mouth.
"Where is Mr. Rossi?" Hunter asked softly.
"The Don had business in the city to attend to," Gideon replied smoothly, though a dark shadow crossed his eyes. "Rival syndicates have been circling our borders, believing the Rossi line was weak because the heir was dying. Today, Mr. Rossi is correcting their mistake."
Hunter shivered slightly, remembering the cold, lethal tone Lorenzo had used when dealing with the nurse. She was safe here, safer than she had ever been in her life, but she was living inside the cage of a lion.
Two hours later, the heavy suite doors opened.
Lorenzo walked in. He had removed his jacket, his white dress shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing dark, intricate tattoos that crept up his wrists. His knuckles were slightly bruised, and the faint, unmistakable scent of iron and expensive cologne trailed after him.
Gideon bowed and quietly backed out of the room, shutting the double doors.
Lorenzo stopped at the foot of the bed. His eyes softened the moment they landed on Leo, who was squirming happily in Hunter’s lap.
"He looks better," Lorenzo observed, his low voice echoing in the quiet room.
"He had three ounces an hour ago," Hunter said, offering a small, timid smile. "His fever is completely gone. I think... I think his stomach just couldn't process synthetic enzymes. My milk is gentle enough for him."
Lorenzo walked over and sat on the edge of the mattress. The heavy mattress dipped under his weight, bringing him close enough that Hunter could feel the heat radiating from his massive frame. He reached out, gently caressing Leo’s tiny arm with his thumb.
"Thank you," Lorenzo murmured. The words were so quiet, so vulnerable, coming from a man who commanded fear across an entire continent.
"You don't have to keep thanking me, Mr. Rossi," Hunter said softly, looking down at the baby. "In a way... Leo saved me, too. When I lost Lily... my heart felt completely hollow. Holding him... feeding him... it makes the pain feel a little lighter."
Lorenzo’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers. For a long, intense moment, neither of them spoke. He looked into her blue eyes, seeing the deep, painful scars of grief that mirrored his own. Lorenzo had lost his wife, Leo’s mother, during a high-risk emergency C-section two months ago. He knew what it felt like to stand in a room full of luxury and feel like you were suffocating in darkness.
"Call me Lorenzo," he said softly.
"Lorenzo," she repeated, the name sounding like velvet on her tongue.
He reached out, his thick fingers gently tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear. His touch was surprisingly feather-light, sending a strange, warm shiver running down Hunter’s spine.
"Tell me about the man who hurt you," Lorenzo commanded gently, though a sudden, icy dangerous edge returned to his eyes. "The man who pushed you down the stairs."
Hunter went rigid. The memory of Jimmy—his red, alcohol-flushed face, his screaming fits, the heavy shove that had sent her tumbling down twelve wooden steps—came rushing back like ice water in her veins.
"His name is Jimmy Vance," Hunter whispered, her voice trembling. "He... he was a small-time bookie. He liked to drink. When I got pregnant, he told me I was ruining his life. The night I went into labor... he wanted money for a bet. I said no. So he..." She choked on a sob, unable to finish the sentence.
Lorenzo’s expression didn't change, but the air in the room grew instantly colder. A killer’s stillness settled over his muscular shoulders.
"Where is he now?" Lorenzo asked quietly.
"I don't know," Hunter wept, hugging Leo closer. "I fled the hospital the day after Lily was born. I changed my number. I took a bus to Chicago and took the first job I could find. I was terrified he would track me down."
Lorenzo leaned in, grabbing Hunter’s chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look directly into his storm-gray eyes.
"He will never touch you again, Hunter," Lorenzo vowed, his voice a dark, unbreakable contract. "You are under my roof now. You are nursing the Rossi heir. If this Jimmy Vance takes a single step into this city, I will make sure he vanishes off the face of the earth."
Before Hunter could respond, a soft knock sounded on the suite door. Gideon stepped inside, his expression grim.
"Don Rossi," Gideon said carefully. "We have a situation at the southern perimeter gate. A man is outside, making a scene with the guards."
May you like
Lorenzo didn't break eye contact with Hunter. "Who is it?"
Gideon swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Hunter. "He claims he’s looking for his runaway girlfriend. He says her name is Hunter Higgins, and he’s threatening to call the press if we don't hand her over."
