Chapter 6 - The Estate in Marblehead
At precisely two o'clock, a sleek black town car pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel to take us north to Marblehead.
Chloe was dressed in a beautiful dark green velvet dress that had been delivered to our room earlier that morning, complete with black patent leather shoes and a matching hair bow. I wore a tailored maroon wool sweater dress that fit me perfectly—another gift from the hotel concierge courtesy of James.
As the car drove coastal roads toward the North Shore, the urban landscape of Boston gave way to sprawling oceanfront estates hidden behind tall stone walls and iron gates.
The car turned down a long winding driveway lined with snow-draped oak trees, stopping outside a massive stone manor overlooking the dark, churning waves of the Atlantic Ocean. The house looked like an old English estate, built of dark granite with towering chimneys and glowing leaded-glass windows.
The driver opened my door, and as I stepped out into the crisp ocean air, the heavy front doors of the estate swung open.
A tall, elegant woman in her late fifties stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a cream cashmere shawl. She had dark hair streaked with silver, sharp brown eyes, and a warm, regal presence.
"You must be Grace!" she called out, walking down the stone steps with open arms. "And little Chloe!"
"I... yes, ma'am," I stammered, holding Chloe’s hand tightly.
"I am Elena Moretti," the woman said, wrapping me in a warm, fragrant hug before kneeling down to greet Chloe. "James’s mother. Welcome to our home, my dears. Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas," Chloe chirped, admiring the woman's sparkling diamond brooch.
"Come inside out of the cold," Elena insisted, guiding us into a grand foyer that smelled of roasting turkey, cedar wood, and expensive perfume.
A massive stone fireplace roared in the main living hall. Standing near the mantelpiece, holding a glass of amber whiskey, was James.
He was dressed in a dark navy suit without a tie, looking relaxed yet impeccably commanding. When his eyes met mine as I walked into the room, he went completely still. His gaze swept over the maroon dress, lingering on my face for a long, heavy moment before moving down to Chloe.
"Grace," James said, stepping forward. His voice was a low, velvet purr. "You made it."
"You didn't leave us much choice, Mr. Moretti," I said softly, a subtle smile tugging at my lips.
"James," he corrected smoothly, standing in front of me. "I told you last night. Here, I am just James."
Elena came bustling out of the adjoining dining room, holding a tray of champagne glasses. "Oh, stop terrorizing the girl, James. She’s had a long day." She handed me a glass of champagne with a warm smile. "Pay no attention to my son, Grace. He acts like a stern dictator, but he has the heart of a fool when it suits him."
James rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Mother, please."
"Don't 'mother' me," Elena snapped playfully, winking at me. "I know why you had Frank condemn that tenement on Hanover Street this morning. You’ve been trying to buy out that corrupt landlord for two years, and you finally found an excuse to break him."
I looked at James in surprise. "You were already trying to buy the building?"
James shifted his weight, looking slightly uncomfortable for the first time since I had met him. "He was a predatory landlord who was ruining the neighborhood. I simply accelerated his timeline."
Before I could ask anything else, the heavy double doors at the side of the hall swung open, and three young men dressed in sharp suits entered the room. They looked strikingly similar to James—sharp features, dark hair, broad shoulders.
"Ah, the rest of the circus has arrived," Elena announced proudly. "Grace, these are my other sons—Leo, Julian, and Dante."
The three men greeted us with polite, respectful smiles, though I could catch the amused, curious glances they exchanged with James behind their mother's back. It was clear that James bringing a female guest—and a child—to the family's private Christmas dinner was an unprecedented event in the Moretti household.
"Dinner is served!" the butler announced from the entryway.
As we moved into the grand dining room, James stepped beside me, his hand lightly touching the small of my back to guide me toward my seat. The touch was brief, sending a warm shiver straight down my spine.
"Are you okay?" he whispered down to me as I sat down.
I looked up at him, surrounded by the warmth of his family, the glittering crystal, and the safety he had created for us out of thin air.
May you like
"I haven't felt this safe in seven years, James," I whispered honestly.
His dark eyes softened, holding mine with a fierce, quiet protective warmth. "Good," he murmured. "Because you're never going back to the cold again."
