Chapter 6 - The Scars We Carry
The red salon emptied out in less than a minute, leaving only the soft crackle of the unlit fireplace and the low, distant hum of the mansion's central heating system.
I stood near the heavy double doors, my left arm resting gingerly in the sling, feeling entirely out of place among the velvet draperies and oil paintings of ruthless mob bosses. I had survived the night, kept my job, and helped rescue Mrs. Moretti, but my knees felt like water, and the reality of what I had witnessed was finally crashing down on my nerves.
"Sophie," Luca’s voice broke the heavy silence.
I looked up. He was standing by the mahogany table, pouring two fingers of dark amber bourbon into a crystal tumbler. He didn't drink it; he just stared at the swirling liquid in the glass before setting it down and walking slowly toward me.
"Mr. Moretti," I murmured, lowering my gaze to the floor. "I should... I should probably go check on Mrs. Moretti in the west wing. The nurse is supposed to administer her evening medication—"
"The nurse was fired twenty minutes ago," Luca interrupted gently, stopping two paces away from me. "She was on Vanessa’s payroll. Dr. Vance is upstairs examining my mother right now."
"Oh," I whispered, shifting uncomfortably on my feet. "Then... I'll get back to the servants' quarters."
"Stay."
The single word wasn't a request; it was an absolute command, yet it carried none of the cold menace he had used on Vanessa or the paramedic. It was soft, almost hesitant.
I looked back up into his dark eyes. Up close, without the barrier of his syndicate authority or the glare of the ballroom lights, I could see the heavy shadows beneath his eyes—the exhaustion of a man who carried the weight of an entire criminal empire on his shoulders, only to find the knife planted in his back by the woman he trusted most.
"Your arm," Luca said, his gaze dropping to the white sling supporting my left elbow. "Let me see it."
"It's just a sprain, sir. Dr. Vance wrapped it—"
"Sophie," he interrupted, reaching out and gently taking my uninjured right hand, guiding me toward one of the velvet armchairs by the hearth. "Sit down."
I hesitated, then obeyed, sinking into the plush velvet cushion.
Luca pulled a straight-backed wooden chair over, sat down directly in front of me, and carefully, with infinite patience, began to unfasten the velcro strap of my medical sling.
His large, calloused fingers brushed against my skin with a surprising gentleness. When he peeled back the top layer of gauze, exposing the dark, ugly purple bruise swelling across my forearm and elbow where the elevator door had crushed me, his jaw tightened.
"You saved my mother’s life," Luca murmured, his eyes fixed on the bruise. "And you didn't say a single word about your arm until I forced you to show me in the foyer."
"I needed this job, Mr. Moretti," I said quietly, feeling a sudden surge of heat rise to my cheeks. "Forty-six dollars until payday doesn't buy groceries in Chicago, let alone pay for my mother's oncology prescriptions at St. Jude's. If I got fired for causing a scene or messing up an engagement party... I didn't have anywhere else to go."
Luca looked up from my arm, his dark gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe.
"You won't have to worry about rent, or groceries, or prescriptions ever again, Sophie," he said, his voice dropping into a low, resolute register. "Starting tonight, your position in this house changes. You are no longer on the housekeeping staff."
My stomach dropped. "You're... you're firing me?"
A faint, rare ghost of a smile touched the corners of Luca's mouth.
"I am promoting you," he corrected softly. "Chief of domestic security and confidential operations. Starting salary: twenty times what Vanessa was paying you to scrub marble floors."
I stared at him, utterly speechless. "Mr. Moretti... I'm a housemaid. I don't know the first thing about syndicate security or confidential operations!"
"You know loyalty," Luca answered, his voice firm and unyielding. "You know courage. And in my world, that is the only asset that cannot be bought."
Before I could process the words, a sharp knock echoed at the heavy double doors of the red salon.
Mateo stepped inside, his expression grim, holding a blinking satellite phone in his hand.
May you like
"Boss," Mateo said, not looking at me, his eyes fixed entirely on Luca. "The perimeter sensors just tripped at the north gate. A black Escalade without plates just bypassed the outer security loop. And they're not stopping for the guards."
Luca stood up instantly, the gentle, quiet man of a moment ago vanishing, replaced once again by the ruthless syndicate boss of Chicago.
