Chapter 4 - In the Lion’s DenThe north bluff wall was slick with moss and relentless rain, but Naomi scaled it with the desperate agility of someone who had nothing left to lose. She knew the estate’s blind spots better than the rotating security patrols—a perk of pushing Isabella’s wheelchair through every secluded garden path during their long afternoon walks.
She hit the soft mulch of the greenhouse yard, rolling silently behind a dense row of boxwood hedges just as the sweeping beam of a security flashlight cut through the downpour ten feet away.
“Check the perimeter! Sweep the east gardens!” a guard’s voice barked over a static-filled walkie-talkie.
Naomi waited until the beam swept past, then darted low, making a mad dash toward the service entrance of the mansion’s ground-floor kitchens. She needed to reach the study—or at least get close enough to leave the notary receipt and her journal where Luca couldn't ignore them.
She slipped through the heavy metal kitchen door, which had been left slightly ajar by a distracted catering crew. The interior was warm, smelling faintly of roasted garlic and lemon, but entirely empty. She moved like a shadow across the tiled floor, her soaked sneakers making barely a sound, and slipped into the main corridor leading toward the grand staircase.
She didn't make it past the second-floor landing.
A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder from behind, spinning her around with bone-crushing force. Before she could scream, a strong arm pinned her against the wood-paneled wall, and a familiar, intoxicating scent of rain, cedar, and expensive cologne filled her senses.
“You’ve got a death wish, Carter,” Luca’s voice growled right beside her ear, low and vibrating with a terrifying intensity.
Naomi gasped, her back pressed flat against the wall, looking up into Luca’s dark, shadowed eyes. He was soaked from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, looking less like a polished corporate titan and more like an apex predator that had just cornered its prey.
“Let... let me go,” Naomi panted, struggling against his grip, though her heart hammered for an entirely different reason than fear. “I didn't come here to steal anything. Your mother is in danger!”
“You broke into my estate a second time after I ordered you off the grounds,” Luca whispered fiercely, his face inches from hers. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before snapping back to her eyes, burning with a volatile mix of anger and something dangerously close to obsession. “In my world, people who cross me don't get a second chance. They vanish.”
“Then kill me!” Naomi fired back, her voice cracking with fierce emotion as she shoved his chest with both hands. “Kill me and throw me in the river, just like you threw me out tonight! But before you do, read this!”
She thrust the wet, crumpled notary receipt and her journal into his chest.
Luca didn't move to strike her. Instead, his hand slid from the wall down to her wrist, his fingers wrapping tightly around the papers. He lowered his eyes, unfolding the wet document under the dim wall sconce.
As his eyes scanned the legal firm’s letterhead and Vivian’s forged signature authorizing the complete asset transfer of Isabella Moretti’s private estate, the temperature in the hallway dropped to zero.
Luca’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The dark fury in his eyes shifted from Naomi to the empty hallway stretching toward the master suites.
“Where did you get this?” Luca asked, his voice deathly quiet.
“I found it tucked in Isabella’s desk a week ago when Vivian claimed she was ‘helping’ her organize tax forms,” Naomi breathed, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his arm. “Vivian isn't marrying you for love, Mr. Moretti. She’s bleeding your family dry, and silencing your mother was step one.”
Luca slowly released her wrist, though he didn't step back. He looked down at Naomi, a profound realization dawning in his dark eyes—a mix of burning guilt for doubting her and lethal retribution for the betrayal under his own roof.
“You came back here knowing you could be killed,” Luca said, his voice losing its harsh edge, replaced by a deep, resonant gravity. “Just to protect her?”
“I care about her,” Naomi whispered simply. “Someone had to.”
May you like
Luca stared at her for a long, charged second, the barrier between them dissolving in the heavy, rain-washed air. Then, his hand reached out, his knuckles gently brushing a wet lock of hair away from her cheek.
“You’re a stubborn, reckless fool, Naomi Carter,” Luca murmured softly, his thumb tracing her jawline with a tenderness that made her breath catch. “And I’m going to make things right. Come with me.”
