Chapter 4 - The Unseen Enemy Lurking in the Mansion
By midnight, the grand mansion had transformed from a scene of celebratory luxury into a fortress under lockdown. The thirty-six guests had been questioned and escorted off the property under heavy guard, sworn to absolute secrecy about what transpired during the engagement dinner.
Upstairs in the private family quarters, Teresa was resting safely in her suite, drifting off to sleep under the watchful care of a trusted family doctor. I sat quietly in the adjacent study, clutching a warm cup of chamomile tea that Luca had personally insisted I drink.
The heavy oak door opened silently, and Luca stepped inside. He had removed his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, revealing the powerful, corded muscles of his forearms and the faint, jagged scars of a life lived in the violent Chicago underground.
He walked over to the antique desk, leaning against it as he looked down at me. The harsh overhead light cast sharp shadows across his chiseled face, accentuating the tired lines around his eyes.
“How is she?” I asked softly, breaking the quiet.
“Sleeping,” Luca replied, his voice a low, gravelly baritone. “The doctor gave her a mild sedative to calm her nerves. She hasn't slept a full night in four years, Hannah. Not since the night our father died.”
I set my teacup down on the saucer, the ceramic clinking softly. “Do you believe what she said about Michael?”
Luca looked away, staring out the tall arched window into the dark, rain-swept gardens below. “I didn't want to believe it. Michael was my little brother. I taught him how to shoot, how to fight, how to survive in a world that tries to chew us up every single day. But tonight... looking into his eyes, I saw a stranger. A greedy, ruthless stranger who would kill his own flesh and blood for power.”
“He wasn't acting alone,” I noted carefully, choosing my words with caution. “Vanessa knew about it. And judging by how quickly she tried to have Mrs. Moretti shipped off to a care facility, there might be others in the syndicate backing them up.”
Luca turned back to me, narrowing his dark eyes. A strange intensity flickered in his gaze. “You are remarkably perceptive for a twenty-five-year-old maid, Hannah. Most girls in your position would have run out the front doors screaming the moment the first gunshot went off.”
“I couldn't run,” I answered honestly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “If I left, Mrs. Moretti would have been left defenseless against them. And besides... my mother taught me never to turn my back on someone who needs help.”
Luca stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away from my chair. The subtle, expensive scent of sandalwood and danger washed over me, making my pulse quicken.
“You've risked a lot tonight, Hannah,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Michael’s network isn't entirely dismantled yet. There are men still loyal to him out there on the streets. By standing with my mother and me, you’ve painted a massive target on your back.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I replied, lifting my chin with quiet defiance.
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A slow, rare smile touched the corners of Luca’s mouth—a genuine, captivating smile that completely transformed his dangerous visage into something breathtakingly handsome.
“Good,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so his face was inches from mine. “Because from now on, you aren't just a maid in this house, Hannah. You’re under my personal protection. And nobody touches anyone under my protection.”
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