Chapter 8 - Sanctuary in the Master Wing
The east conservatory was a breathtaking pavilion of curved Victorian ironwork
and towering glass panes, filled with exotic orchids, towering palms, and stone
fountains.
Vanessa sat at a wrought-iron breakfast table beneath the glass dome, wearing an
emerald-green silk blouse, sipping freshly squeezed orange juice, and casually
flipping through an architectural magazine.
When the heavy glass doors opened, she looked up, a bright, rehearsed smile
spreading across her lips.
“Luca, darling!” she called out, setting her glass down. “I was wondering when
you would wake up. The morning light out here is simply—”
Her smile died mid-sentence.
Her gaze drifted past Luca’s broad shoulder, landing directly on me.
I stood beside him, completely unharmed, wearing my black wool coat, my head
held high, meeting her eyes with unblinking defiance.
Vanessa’s pupils dilated with raw, undisguised shock. The color drained from her
cheeks in a rapid, visible wave. Her hand trembled as she reached for her linen
napkin, knocking over a small silver salt cellar.
Luca walked slowly toward the table, his footsteps clicking rhythmically against
the terracotta tiles.
He reached into his pocket and placed the small crystal dropper bottle on the
glass table directly in front of her plate.
Beside the bottle, he set down my ceramic travel mug, still warm, the steam
carrying the faint, sweet scent of chamomile and death.
“Drink it, Vanessa,” Luca said softly.
Vanessa stiffened, her spine going rigid against the iron chair. “Luca... what
is this nonsense?”
“It’s the soothing lavender tea you made for Olivia,” Luca said, his voice
dropping into that chilling, lethal whisper. “Mrs. Carter told me how thoughtful
you were. How eager you were to relieve her headache. Drink it.”
Vanessa let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh that echoed hollowly off the glass
dome. “Darling, don't be absurd. Why would I drink the maid’s tea? I’m having
freshly squeezed juice.”
Luca leaned forward, planting both palms flat on the glass table, bringing his
face inches from hers.
“Because if you don't drink it, Vanessa, I will have Vince hold your jaw open
and pour every single drop down your throat.”
Vanessa recoiled, pressed hard against the back of her chair, tears of pure
terror springing to her eyes.
“Luca! You’re insane! You’re threatening your fiancée over a servant?”
“I am threatening a cowardly poisoner who brought deadly nightshade into my
home,” Luca hissed, his dark eyes boring into hers with the cold intensity of a
predator. “You shoved this girl into a doorframe yesterday. You hired William
Mercer to fabricate evidence against Sophia. And this morning, you tried to
murder a member of my household staff.”
Vanessa’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.
“Mercer is in my basement,” Luca continued, delivering the final, crushing blow.
“Sophia has already handed over the 1994 charter and the grandfather’s signet
seal. And your father’s debt to the syndicate elders is now fully documented in
my study.”
Vanessa’s face went from pale to completely gray. The arrogance, the wealth, the
aristocratic pride—all of it evaporated, leaving behind a terrified, cornered
animal.
“Luca... please,” she wept, her hands clutching the edge of the table. “My
father forced me! We had no choice! If the merger doesn't happen, the Bellini
family is ruined! My father owes fifty million dollars to the cartel!”
“Your father’s debts are not my concern,” Luca said coldly.
He straightened up, turning his back on her.
“Daniel.”
Daniel stepped forward from the conservatory entrance. “Yes, boss?”
“Confine Miss Bellini to the east guest pavilion,” Luca commanded. “Strip the
room of all electronic devices, landlines, and sharp objects. Post four armed
guards at the doors. She does not leave that room until her father arrives for
the official settlement meeting tomorrow morning.”
“Luca, no! You can’t do this to me! My father will destroy you!” she screamed,
thrashing against her chair as two security operators stepped forward and
gripped her arms.
Luca didn't look back.
He walked over to me, placed his hand gently on the small of my back, and guided
me out of the conservatory.
We walked in silence through the long corridors of the estate, ascending the
grand staircase to the private second-floor master wing.
Luca stopped in front of the massive double doors of his personal bedroom
suite—a room that no staff member had ever entered without explicit, supervised
instruction.
He entered the biometric code and pushed the door open.
“From this moment on, Olivia,” Luca said, turning to look at me, “you stay in
this wing.”
I blinked, looking around the sprawling, luxurious master suite: a king-sized
bed draped in dark linens, a private fireplace, floor-to-ceiling windows
overlooking the gardens, and an adjoining dressing room.
“Mr. Moretti... I can’t stay in your room,” I stammered, heat rising to my
cheeks despite the morning’s trauma. “I’m a housemaid. The other staff—”
“There is no housemaid in this wing,” Luca interrupted gently, stepping closer
until his tall frame completely shielded me from the cold hallway. “The staff
knows that anyone who touches you answers to my personal weapon. You are safe
here, Olivia. Nobody enters this room without my permission. Not Vanessa. Not
her father. Nobody.”
He reached out, his large, scarred hand gently cupping the side of my face, his
thumb carefully avoiding the bruised skin along my cheekbone.
His touch was surprisingly tender, carrying a quiet reverence that made my
breath catch in my throat.
May you like
“You saved my family’s legacy, Olivia,” he murmured, his dark eyes searching
mine. “The least I can do is keep you alive to see the end of it.”
