Chapter 4 - Under Watchful Eyes
By Monday morning, the atmosphere inside the Moretti estate had transformed completely.
The casual, aristocratic peace was replaced by the tight, quiet vigilance of a fortress under siege. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter with Belgian Malinois attack dogs. Heavy iron shutters had been tested on the lower-level windows, and the staff moved with hushed efficiency.
Yet, inside the private family quarters on the second floor, a miraculous transformation was taking place.
“Miss Claire! Look!”
Benjamin burst through the doors of the sunlit morning room, holding up a large sheet of heavy parchment covered in bright watercolor paints.
I set down the teapot on the silver service cart and turned to him with a warm smile. For the first time since I had started working at the estate six months ago, Benjamin was wearing colorful clothes—a soft navy sweater and jeans instead of the stiff, scratchy black wool suits Vanessa had forced him to wear. His cheeks had regained their rosy hue, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were fading.
“Let me see that, artist,” I laughed, taking the painting from his hands.
It was a painting of the estate gardens, but instead of the cold, manicured hedges Vanessa demanded, he had painted tall sunflowers, a bright yellow sun, and three figures standing by the fountain: a tall man in a dark suit, a little boy holding a soccer ball, and a woman with honey-brown hair wearing an apron, smiling back at them.
My heart squeezed with an emotion so tender it almost frightened me.
“It’s beautiful, Ben,” I said softly, tracing the painted sun with my fingertip. “You captured the light perfectly.”
“That’s Daddy, that’s me, and that’s you,” Benjamin said proudly, leaning his chin against the arm of my chair. “Because you stayed. Vanessa said all the maids leave after three weeks because this house is cursed. But you didn't leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” I promised, ruffling his hair. “As long as your father wants me here, I am here for you.”
“I want you here,” a deep, commanding voice sounded from the arched doorway.
I looked up, my pulse instantly quickening.
Luca stood leaning against the doorframe. He wore a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, his dark hair neatly combed, exuding the effortless, lethal elegance of a king in his castle. But his eyes, usually sharp and guarded when dealing with the outside world, were warm as he looked at his son.
“Morning, Daddy!” Benjamin cheered, running toward him.
Luca caught the nine-year-old effortlessly, scooping him into the air with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of his head and setting him down. “Morning, champ. Have you finished your breakfast?”
“I ate three pancakes, two sausages, and all my fruit,” Benjamin reported like a soldier giving an update. “Miss Claire said if I finished my breakfast, we could go to the library and read about ancient castles.”
“Did she now?” Luca looked over Benjamin’s head, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an amused, appreciative glimmer. “Miss Claire runs a tight ship.”
“Only the best for the young master, sir,” I said, dipping my head, trying to hide the blush that crept up my neck.
“Go on down to the library, Ben,” Luca said gently. “Marco is waiting by the stairs. He has a package of new books that arrived from London this morning. Pick the one you want to read first.”
“Yes, Daddy!” Benjamin bolted out of the room, his sneakers squeaking against the polished parquet floor.
The room fell into a sudden, charged silence.
Luca walked slowly toward the table, his eyes never leaving mine. He pulled out a chair, not to sit, but to rest his hands on the high back.
“You look tired, Claire,” he noted softly.
“I’m fine, Mr. Moretti,” I said quickly, smoothing my skirts. “Just... adjusting to the new responsibilities.”
“You’ve been awake until two in the morning every night checking Benjamin’s door,” Luca said. “The security monitors in my study don't lie. You patrol his hallway more frequently than my armed guards.”
My face burned. “I just... I want to make sure he feels safe. After what happened with the school...”
“You don't need to apologize for caring for my son,” Luca interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, intimate cadence that made the breath catch in my throat. “In fact, that’s why I came up here.”
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek black leather folder, laying it on the table between us.
“What is this, sir?”
“Your mother’s admission papers,” Luca said. “She was checked into the North Hills Private Pavilion at eight this morning. Dr. Vance, the leading orthopedic surgeon on the East Coast, is performing her hip replacement on Thursday. She has a private suite, a dedicated physical therapist, and around-the-clock nursing care. She wanted me to give you this.”
He handed me a small, folded piece of floral stationery.
With trembling fingers, I opened the note. It was written in my mother’s shaky, arthritic handwriting:
*“My sweet Claire, I don't know what kind of guardian angel you found in that house, but for the first time in ten years, I woke up in a bed that doesn't hurt. Mr. Moretti called me himself this morning to ensure I had everything I needed. He told me to tell you that you are doing an extraordinary job, and that he will keep you safe. Listen to him, darling. He is a good man. I love you.”*
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over my lashes before I could stop them. I looked up at Luca, completely overwhelmed.
“Mr. Moretti... you called my mother?”
“She is an elderly woman having major surgery,” Luca said simply, stepping around the table until he was standing only inches from me. “She deserved to know that her daughter is safe, respected, and valued.”
He raised his hand, and this time, he didn't stop himself. His warm, calloused fingers gently brushed against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. The touch sent an electric shock straight through my veins, rooting me to the spot.
“You have spent your whole life taking care of everyone else, Claire,” Luca whispered, his thumb resting near the corner of my lips. “It’s time someone took care of you.”
I couldn't breathe. The raw sincerity in his gaze was intoxicating, stripping away the boundaries of employer and employee, master and maid. For a split second, I saw the man beneath the empire—a man hungry for genuine warmth, a man who had been starving in a palace of cold stone and dangerous alliances.
The door to the corridor creaked open.
Luca pulled his hand back smoothly, his face sliding into an unreadable mask just as Marco stepped into the room.
“Don Moretti,” Marco said, his voice tense. “Antonio Bellini has called a mandatory meeting of the Five Families at the Metropolitan Club tomorrow night. He’s brought formal charges against you before the Syndicate Council for breach of blood contract. If you don't appear, they will declare open season on our territory.”
Luca’s jaw set into stone. He turned toward his chief of security.
May you like
“Tell Antonio I’ll be there,” Luca replied calmly. Then he glanced back at me, his eyes gleaming with a fierce, dangerous light. “And tell him I’m bringing my family.”
***