Chapter 2 - The East Wing
By noon, the atmosphere inside the Moretti estate had transformed into a pressure cooker.
Under Alessandro’s direct orders, Mr. Bruno had personally overseen the relocation of Rosa and Lily from the small, cramped servant’s room near the kitchen to the lavishly appointed Master Suite in the east wing. The room featured tall arched windows overlooking the manicured rose gardens, plush velvet furniture, a private fireplace, and a massive king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton.
Rosa sat on the edge of the silk duvet, feeling completely out of place. She looked at her rough, calloused hands, then down at the pristine hardwood floors.
Lily, on the other hand, was utterly enchanted. The toddler had kicked off her duck socks and was happily rolling across the giant bed, giggling as she tossed a soft velvet throw pillow into the air.
"Do you like it, little bird?"
Rosa turned sharply. Alessandro was standing in the open doorway. He had discarded his formal jacket, rolling his dark shirt sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the intricate black ink of old Sicilian tattoos running up his forearms.
"She likes the soft pillows," Rosa said quietly, standing up and smoothing down her simple cotton dress. "Alessandro, this is too much. The staff... they're talking. I can hear them whispering in the hallways."
"Let them whisper," Alessandro said, stepping into the room and shutting the heavy oak door behind him. "This house belongs to me. What I decide is law. Mr. Bruno has already instructed the staff that you are to be treated with the utmost respect. Anyone who fails to comply will be removed from the grounds immediately."
"It’s not just the staff I’m worried about," Rosa said, stepping closer to him, her voice hushed so Lily wouldn't hear her anxiety. "Isabella. She’s still in the house, isn't she?"
Alessandro’s eyes darkened instantly. "She is in her quarters on the west wing. I have placed two of my best guards outside her door. She will not leave that room until her father arrives tomorrow."
"You called Vincent Romano?" Rosa gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "Alessandro, are you insane?! Vincent Romano is a monster! If he learns that you are breaking the engagement because of me— because of Lily—he will go to war!"
"He can try," Alessandro said coldly, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out, his thumb gently catching a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen from her knot and tucking it behind her ear. His touch was warm, sending a shiver straight down Rosa’s spine. "Five years ago, I was a young Don trying to prove myself to my father’s loyalists. I was cautious. I was quiet. But today? I command the largest syndicate on the East Coast. I will not hide my daughter in a pantry, Rosa. And I will not hide you."
Rosa looked up into his intense dark eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or deceit, but she found none. There was only a terrifying, absolute resolve.
"Why now?" she whispered softly. "You could have paid me off. You could have sent us to a villa in Italy or a house in California, kept us safe, and married Isabella to keep the peace between Chicago and New York."
"Because when I knelt on that marble floor this morning," Alessandro said, his voice lowering to a tender, intense murmur, "and felt her little fingers around my thumb, I realized something. I have spent my entire life building an empire of stone and blood, surrounded by men who obey me out of fear and women who look at me for my power. But when that child looked at me, she saw me. And when I looked at you..." He paused, his dark eyes softening as he traced the outline of her cheekbone. "I realized I never truly forgot that storm five years ago."
Rosa’s breath hitched. Five years ago, when she was working a temporary catering job, a sudden blizzard had trapped her at the estate overnight. Alessandro had found her in the library, cold and lost. They had spent hours talking by the fire—not as a mafia prince and a poor girl, but as two lonely souls carrying heavy burdens. One night of passionate, desperate warmth had followed, a night that had haunted Rosa’s dreams every single day since.
Before Rosa could reply, a sudden, sharp knock broke the silence.
"Boss," Mr. Bruno’s panicked voice sounded from the hallway. "You need to come down to the courtyard immediately. We have a problem."
Alessandro’s romantic softness vanished in a microsecond, replaced by the deadly, sharp edge of the Don. He turned to Rosa. "Stay in this room. Lock the door behind me and do not open it for anyone except Vance or Bruno."
"Alessandro—"
"Lock the door, Rosa," he commanded firmly before sweeping out of the room.
Rosa quickly rushed to the heavy oak door, throwing the brass deadbolt into place. She held her breath, listening to the heavy sound of his boots echoing rapidly down the hallway.
Outside the arched window, the sound of screeching tires tore through the quiet afternoon. Rosa hurried to the glass, pulling back the silk velvet curtain just enough to peer down into the circular driveway below.
Three black SUVs had crashed through the wrought-iron gates of the estate, tearing up the manicured green lawns. Armed men in dark suits spilled out of the vehicles, their automatic weapons drawn and pointed toward the main house.
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Stepping out from the rear of the middle SUV was a tall, silver-haired man with a cruel, aristocrat face, leaning heavily on a brass-headed cane.
Vincent Romano had arrived early. And he hadn't come alone.
