Chapter 4 - Behind the Iron Gates
The iron gates of the Moretti estate swung open with a heavy, ominous groan, revealing a sprawling limestone mansion that looked less like a home and more like a European fortress. Surrounded by towering security walls, manicured hedges, and armed guards patrolling the perimeter with German Shepherds, the property radiated wealth, power, and absolute isolation.
Clara sat in the passenger seat of Rico’s bulletproof Mercedes Maybach, staring out the window. Her meager belongings—two suitcases and a cardboard box—sat in the trunk.
"Penny for your thoughts," Rico said, his deep voice breaking the silence of the plush interior. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket; his crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his throat and a faint, jagged scar near his collarbone.
"I was just wondering if I need to check for a moat and a drawbridge," Clara replied dryly, keeping her eyes fixed on the approaching grand entrance.
Rico let out a short, sharp bark of laughter—a sound so rare and unexpected that it made Clara turn her head in surprise. "The moat is currently under maintenance. But the security system can incinerate a drone from three hundred yards away. You'll be safe."
"Safety usually comes with a catch, Mr. Moretti," Clara noted, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Rico," he corrected automatically as the car glided to a stop under the grand portico. "If you're going to live under my roof and raise my son, Mr. Moretti sounds entirely too formal."
Before Clara could argue, the car door was opened by Dante, who looked remarkably recovered from his bite wound. Rico stepped out first, carefully lifting a still-sleeping Leo from his car seat. The boy had latched onto Clara’s scarf during the drive, refusing to let go, so Clara had been forced to sit in the back with him for part of the trip.
"Welcome to the house, Miss Clara," Dante said, nodding respectfully. The giant of a man clearly held a new level of respect for her after seeing how she handled the toddler without blinking.
As Clara stepped out of the car, she looked up at the towering double doors of the mansion. Inside, a small army of domestic staff stood lined up in the grand foyer, waiting to greet their new employer.
"Everyone," Rico announced, his voice echoing off the vaulted marble ceiling. "This is Clara Vance. She is Leo's new guardian and director of his daily care. Anything she asks for is to be provided immediately. Treat her with the exact same respect you show me. Understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Mr. Moretti" echoed through the hall.
Clara felt a sudden wave of vertigo. Just twenty-four hours ago, she was scrubbing greasy tables at Il Destino for minimum wage and dodging a landlord who wanted to evict her. Now, she was standing in a mafia palace with a small army at her beck and call.
"Your suite is on the second floor, right next to the master wing and Leo's nursery," Rico said, handing the sleeping boy to a middle-aged woman with kind, motherly eyes named Mrs. Higgins, the head housekeeper. "Mrs. Higgins will show you around, get you settled, and make sure you have everything you need."
"Thank you," Clara said softly.
May you like
As Mrs. Higgins led Clara up the grand curved staircase, Rico turned and walked toward his private study, his expression hardening back into the mask of the Butcher of Brooklyn. But as he walked away, his hand instinctively brushed against his jacket pocket, feeling the edge of a file Dante had handed him earlier that morning—a file detailing the people currently looking for Clara Vance.
And Rico Moretti was not a man who allowed anyone to hunt in his backyard.
