Chapter 7
The threat hung in the bright, cinematic air, as absolute as gravity. Helena Bellucci, realizing her aristocratic immunity had been entirely revoked, scrambled frantically to her feet. She stumbled over her broken designer heels, tripping over the scattered polishing pads as she limped desperately toward the open estate gates. She didn't look back. She disappeared into the bright afternoon sunlight, banished from the empire she had tried to exploit.
As the heavy iron gates clanged shut behind her, locking with a definitive metallic thud, Carmine turned his attention back to the center of the garage.
Maria, the estate maid, was still kneeling on the concrete near the shattered lunch plate. She was trembling violently, her eyes wide with fear as the Mafia boss approached her.
"S-sir," Maria stammered, her American accent cracking as she desperately tried to gather the ruined food into her apron. "I'm sorry. I tried to feed him. She wouldn't let me."
Carmine stopped in front of her. The terrifying, homicidal aura vanished, replaced by the deeply masculine, protective presence of a father. He reached down and gently grasped Maria’s arm, helping the thirty-year-old maid to her feet.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Maria," Carmine said, his voice a low, reassuring rumble. "You were the only one who tried to protect my blood today. You are relieved of your regular duties. From this moment on, your only job is the care and protection of my son. Your salary is tripled."
Maria’s fair, rosy skin flushed with profound shock and gratitude. Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Bellucci. I swear to you, I will guard him with my life."
"I know you will," Carmine murmured. He turned and walked back to little Leo, who was still standing quietly where his father had placed him, shivering slightly in his torn clothes.
Carmine knelt down, ignoring the dirt on the floor, and scooped his three-year-old son securely into his arms. He held the boy tightly against his broad chest, burying his face into Leo's neck.
"I've got you, my beautiful boy," Carmine whispered fiercely. "Nobody is ever going to hurt you in this house again."
"I was hungry, Daddy," Leo mumbled, resting his tired head on Carmine’s shoulder.
"I know, baby," Carmine said, standing up and carrying his son toward the interior doors of the massive estate. He looked at Maria. "Go to the kitchen. Have the chef prepare a hot meal immediately. Bring it to my private suite."
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"Right away, sir," Maria nodded, hurrying ahead to fulfill the order.
As Carmine carried his son through the bright, beautifully lit corridors of his home, his mind was operating at a terrifying, tactical speed. Helena was arrogant, cruel, and entitled, but she was not stupid. She would not have dared to torture the heir to the syndicate in broad daylight unless she believed that Carmine’s power was fading. Someone had whispered in her ear. Someone had made her feel untouchable. And Carmine was going to find out exactly who it was.
