Chapter 3 - The Gilded Cage
The Moretti estate on the secluded north shore of Long Island wasn't just a house; it was a fortress.
High iron gates topped with security cameras opened silently to reveal a sprawling stone mansion surrounded by acres of pine forest and guarded by men in dark suits carrying concealed submachine guns.
When the black armored Maybach pulled into the brick driveway, I felt as if I were stepping into another reality. Just three hours ago, I was hiding behind flour sacks, nursing a bleeding lip. Now, I was being escorted up a grand marble staircase into a foyer lit by a massive crystal chandelier.
“Miss Aurora!” Zayn called out, skipping ahead of us. “Come see your room! It’s right next to mine!”
I offered the little boy a gentle smile, though exhaustion was pulling heavily at my limbs. Before I could follow him, a cold hand lightly touched the small of my back. I stiffened, looking over my shoulder at Kian.
“First, the doctor,” Kian said sternly.
A middle-aged woman in a crisp white medical coat was already waiting near the entrance. Within twenty minutes, I was guided into a luxurious guest wing, where the doctor cleaned the cut on my lip, treated my sprained wrist, and prescribed anti-inflammatories for the deep contusions Regina’s thugs had left on my arms.
Throughout the entire exam, Kian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching silently with a glass of scotch in his hand. He didn't offer sympathy, but his presence was an overwhelming shield that kept the cold world outside at bay.
When the doctor finished and left, the room fell into a quiet hush.
“There are clothes in the wardrobe,” Kian said, gesturing toward a door on the left. “Everything you need has been provided. The estate is fully secured. You do not leave these grounds without my personal authorization or an armed escort.”
“A gilded cage,” I remarked quietly, standing up from the plush velvet armchair.
Kian walked toward me, his heavy leather shoes silent against the thick oriental rug. He stopped a foot away, looking down at me with an intensity that made my pulse jump.
“A cage keeps you trapped, Aurora,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety cadence. “A fortress keeps you alive. Learn the difference.”
He turned to leave, but I called out to him. “Why me, Kian? You could have hired any high-priced nanny or married any mob princess in New York. Why take in a broken runaway?”
Kian paused at the doorway, his broad back turned to me. “Because when my son was scared, you put your body between him and danger before you even knew who he was. In my world, loyalty like that cannot be bought.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out and closed the door, leaving me alone in the silence of the massive bedroom.
An hour later, after taking the long, hot shower I had dreamed about for months, I wrapped myself in a soft cashmere sweater and sweatpants provided in the closet. A soft knock sounded at the door.
I opened it to find Zayn standing there, holding a stuffed velvet bear almost as big as he was.
“Dad said you need rest,” Zayn said, peering up at me. “But I brought Barnaby. He guards against nightmares.”
My heart melted. I knelt on the floor, accepting the stuffed bear. “Thank you, Zayn. That’s very brave of you.”
Zayn looked around my room, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Is my dad scary to you?”
I hesitated, thinking of the dark-eyed man who ruled this palace. “A little bit,” I admitted truthfully.
“He’s only scary to bad guys,” Zayn assured me with complete confidence. “He yelled at the doctor when she brought a big needle earlier today, but when I cried, he stayed up all night holding my hand. He won’t let anyone hurt us.”
Hearing a child speak of a notorious mafia kingpin with such total, tender trust made something shift inside my chest. Kian Moretti was a ruthless killer to the underworld, but to this little boy, he was an anchor.
Later that night, unable to sleep despite the impossibly comfortable king-sized bed, I crept out of my room to find a glass of water.
The estate was hushed, lit only by low architectural wall sconces. As I passed a set of French doors leading into a glass-walled library overlooking the dark ocean, I saw a lone figure sitting behind a dark oak desk.
Kian was stripped of his suit jacket. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, corded forearms covered in intricate black tattoos that snaked down to his knuckles. He was staring at a glowing laptop screen, a half-empty glass of amber liquid at his side.
I meant to step back quietly, but my foot caught the edge of a floor mat.
“If you’re thirsty, the kitchen is down the hall on the left,” Kian’s voice cut through the dark, without him even looking up from his screen.
I paused, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t sleep much, do you?”
Kian looked up, his storm-gray eyes catching the ambient dim light. He looked tired, the hard angles of his face softened by the shadows. “Sleep is a luxury for people without enemies, Aurora.”
I walked into the room slowly, stopping at the edge of his desk. “Regina... has she tried to contact you?”
Kian closed his laptop. “Regina is currently hiding in a motel near Newark, terrified out of her mind. Tony handed over all her IOUs to my men an hour ago. She no longer has any claim over you. You are dead to her.”
A wave of relief so intense hit me that my knees went weak. I leaned against the heavy desk for support. For three years, Regina’s shadow had hung over my neck like a noose. To hear that it was gone—just like that—was almost impossible to comprehend.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
May you like
Kian stood up. He stepped around the desk, his massive frame towering over me. He reached out, his bare, warm hand cupping the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had managed to escape.
“In this house, you don suffer anymore,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine with a magnetic force that made it hard to breathe. “That is my promise to you, Aurora.”
