Chapter Eight: The Estate
“Why would he care about me? What possible threat could I pose?”
Vincenzo hesitated.
Choosing his words carefully.
“The Marino family controlled certain territories. Certain allegiances. When they were believed exterminated, those territories were divided.”
He paused.
“If a legitimate Marino heir emerged—”
“That’s absurd. I don’t want territories or power or whatever else you’re talking about.”
The absurdity of the conversation struck her suddenly.
Drawing a slightly hysterical laugh.
“I’m a housekeeper with a community college degree and a mountain of medical debt. I clean your toilet, for God’s sake.”
“Not anymore.”
His voice held finality.
The car turned down a private road she didn’t recognize.
Approaching a massive gatehouse. Guards with visible weapons checked the vehicle before allowing them to pass through.
“Where are we?” she asked as they drove up a winding driveway.
Dense forest obscuring any view of what lay ahead.
“My private residence.”
“I thought the penthouse was your residence.”
“The penthouse is for business. This is home.”
The house that emerged from the trees was not what she expected.
Rather than another modern glass and steel showpiece, this was a classic stone mansion. Timeless and elegant. Warm lights glowing from within.
“Only a handful of people know this place exists,” Vincenzo said as the car stopped at the entrance.
“You’ll be safe here until we resolve the situation.”
“And how exactly do we resolve it?”
His expression darkened.
“First, we confirm your identity beyond any doubt. Then we deal with Salvatore before he can move against you.”
“Deal with him how?”
She asked though she feared she already knew the answer.
Vincenzo didn’t respond.
Simply exiting the car and extending his hand to help her out.
The night air was cooler here outside the city.
Carrying the scent of pine and distant water.
An elderly woman waited at the entrance.
Her severe expression softening when she saw Vincenzo.
“You’re late,” she chided in heavily accented English. “The boy arrived twenty minutes ago. He’s quite upset.”
“Matteo’s here.”
Lucia pushed past Vincenzo.
Rushing toward the door.
“Where is he?”
“Your brother is in the east wing guest room,” the woman said. “I’ve given him something to help him sleep. The journey was stressful for him.”
She rounded on Vincenzo.
“You drugged my brother?”
“Mrs. Gallo gave him a mild sedative at his request. He was having difficulty breathing from anxiety. The medication was his own.”
The fight drained out of her.
“I need to see him.”
Mrs. Gallo nodded.
“I’ll take her. The boy should have a familiar face when he wakes.”
“Thank you, Sophia.”
Vincenzo touched the older woman’s shoulder with unexpected affection.
“Please show Miss Marino to her brother, then to her room. I have calls to make.”
As Sophia led her through the house—a place of old-world elegance, all rich woods and tasteful antiques—Lucia glanced back.
Vincenzo was watching her go.
His expression troubled in a way she hadn’t seen before.
For the first time, she wondered if perhaps he was as trapped in this situation as she was.
Caught in a legacy neither of them had chosen.
