Chapter 3 - THE GOLDEN CAGE
I stepped back toward the brick wall of the alley, my hands shoved deep into my coat pockets. “I already have a job, Mr. Moretti. I sell overpriced pasta to people who don't tip.”
“You had a job,” Luca corrected, stepping out of the vehicle with fluid, lethal grace. He towered over me, his dark wool coat smelling expensive—sandalwood, leather, and rain. “Five minutes ago, I purchased Aurelia from your landlord. I also bought out your employment contract. You no longer work for Greg.”
My jaw dropped. “You... what? You can’t just buy a restaurant to get rid of a waitress!”
“I didn't buy it to get rid of you. I bought it to hire you,” Luca said calmly, pulling a sleek leather portfolio from inside his jacket. “My son slept for three hours in your arms tonight. That is a miracle I am willing to pay handsomely for.”
He opened the folder, holding out a typed document.
“Live-in caregiver at my private estate in Chestnut Hill,” Luca read aloud. “Ten thousand dollars a month, full health insurance, private living quarters, and complete legal protection. Your only duty is to take care of Leo.”
The dollar amount hit me like a physical punch. Ten thousand a month. That was more money than I made in a year at the restaurant. It meant paying off my mother’s medical debts, fixing my life, and never having to worry about eviction notices again.
“Why me?” I whispered, searching his face. “You could hire the best pediatric nurses in the country.”
Luca’s expression darkened, a flicker of raw, unhealed grief passing over his features before his mask fell back into place. “I hired three of them. Leo screamed until his throat bled. He won't let anyone close to him. Except you.”
He stepped closer, his shadow falling completely over me. “I don't know what it is about you, Avery. Maybe you smell like someone he misses. Maybe you just have a soft touch. But my son chose you. And what my son wants, he gets.”
I looked down at the contract, then back up at the ruthless king of Philadelphia. I knew the danger of stepping into his world. A man like Luca Moretti didn't operate in light; he lived in blood, threats, and shadows. Joining his household meant stepping right into the crosshairs of his enemies.
“What are the rules?” I asked quietly.
“Rule one: Leo’s safety is paramount,” Luca stated, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute intensity. “Rule two: You do not ask questions about my business. Rule three: You do not enter my private wing after midnight.”
“And rule four?”
Luca reached out, his thumb brushing lightly against my jaw, making my heart skip a frantic beat. “Rule four: You don't lie to me. Ever.”
Two hours later, a sleek Mercedes dropped me off at the gates of the Moretti estate. The property was staggering—a massive stone manor surrounded by soaring wrought-iron fences, rolling lawns, and armed guards patrolling the perimeter with dogs.
I was escorted up the grand marble staircase to a luxurious guest suite adjoining the nursery. The bed was covered in Egyptian cotton, and fresh flowers sat on the nightstand.
I laid in the middle of the enormous bed, staring up at the carved ceiling. Just twelve hours ago, I was sweeping up broken wine glasses under Greg’s shouting. Now, I was sleeping under the roof of a killer.
Suddenly, a tiny cry echoed through the baby monitor on my nightstand.
I threw off the covers and hurried into the adjoining nursery. In the soft light of the moon, little Leo was sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his face.
The moment he saw me walk through the door, his small arms reached out.
May you like
“I’m here, baby,” I whispered, lifting him into my arms and rocking him against my shoulder. “I’m right here.”
As I walked by the open door of the hallway, I caught sight of Luca standing in the dark shadows outside, silently watching us with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
