Chapter 4 - The Fortress on the Lake
The lakehouse in Geneva, Wisconsin, was not a rustic cabin. It was an estate built out of dark timber, stone, and floor-to-ceiling glass, sitting on forty acres of private, dense pine forest overlooking the black, freezing waters of the lake.
High security fences surrounded the perimeter, patrolled by armed men in dark tactical gear.
When the armored SUV pulled up the winding cobblestone driveway, the sun was already setting, painting the winter sky in brilliant shades of orange and deep purple.
Mario guided me through the grand entrance. The interior was warm, filled with the scent of burning pine from a massive stone fireplace in the center of the living room.
"Emma!"
A small voice echoed across the vaulted room. Matteo came running across the hardwood floor, wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas. He threw his small arms around my knees, nearly knocking me over.
"Matteo!" I laughed, dropping to one knee—careful to keep my bandaged right hand raised—and hugging him with my left arm. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"
"Daddy brought me here in a big helicopter!" Matteo cheered happily. "And we have hot chocolate!"
I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.
Luca stood near the fireplace, holding a crystal glass of whiskey. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the dark, intricate mafia tattoos that curled up his wrists.
He looked less like a corporate titan and more like a dangerous predator resting in his den.
"Go with Mrs. Gable to the kitchen, Matteo," Luca said, his deep voice filling the quiet room. "It's almost time for your story."
"Okay, Daddy!" Matteo kissed my cheek before sprinting toward the kitchen where the old housekeeper was waiting with a tray of cookies.
Once the boy disappeared down the hall, the room went completely still.
Luca set his glass down on the stone mantelpiece. He walked slowly across the room toward me, his footsteps silent on the thick Persian rug.
He stopped two feet away. His eyes moved down to my neatly stitched and bandaged hand.
"How does it feel?" he asked softly.
"Better, Mr. Moretti," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Dr. Vance was very thorough."
Luca nodded once. He reached out, his hand hovering near my wrist before he gently took my left hand in his, pulling me a fraction of an inch closer.
"Isabella's father came to my house today," Luca said flatly. "He brought six armed men and demanded an apology for how I treated his daughter."
My heart dropped into my stomach. "Mr. Moretti... I am so sorry. You shouldn't have risked your business for me. I'm just an employee—"
"Stop saying that," Luca interrupted, his voice dropping into a stern, commanding rumble.
He looked directly into my eyes, his grip tightening subtly on my fingers.
"You aren't 'just an employee,' Emma. You bled in my kitchen because you protected my son. You took a blow meant for my family, and you tried to hide it so you wouldn't cause a disruption."
He took another step closer, until there was no space left between us. I could feel the intense heat radiating from his body.
"Antonio Bellini threatened a war," Luca continued, his dark eyes burning with an unholy, lethal fire. "He told me that if I didn't reinstate the engagement, the Bellini family would block my shipping containers at the port."
"What... what did you tell him?" I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Luca lifted his other hand, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from my cheek. His touch sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"I told him that if any Bellini man sets foot on my docks," Luca whispered, his tone dangerously calm, "I will burn their fleet to the waterline. And then I threw him off my property."
I stared at him, completely speechless. A powerful mafia kingpin had just declared war on his strongest ally—all because a maid had been hurt in his kitchen.
"Why?" I gasped out. "Why would you do that for me?"
Luca’s hand rested against the side of my neck, his thumb lightly tracing my jawline.
"Because, Emma," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine, "I've spent four years surrounded by people who only care about my name, my money, and my power. You are the only person in this world who looks at my son with pure love."
May you like
He paused, his eyes darkening with an intense, possessive hunger that made my knees go weak.
"And because," Luca added softly, "the moment I saw your blood on that table, I realized I would burn the entire city of Chicago to the ground before I ever let anyone hurt you again."
