Chapter 7
The swift, tactical mobilization of the Moretti bodyguards transformed the bright, luxurious brunch into a heavily fortified military operation. Two men in dark suits hauled a screaming, thrashing Vanessa to her feet. They dragged her backward across the stone terrace, her designer heels scraping loudly against the floor. Her desperate pleas for mercy faded as she was forced through the heavy service doors and down into the dark, soundproof depths of the estate.
Raffaele stood in the center of the terrace, holding his daughter securely against his chest. He took a slow, deep breath, smoothing the back of Lily's tangled hair. The deeply masculine, terrifying Mafia Boss completely receded, replaced entirely by a fiercely protective, gentle father.
"Daddy," Lily whispered, her tiny voice still trembling. She pulled her face away from his shoulder, looking at him with bright, tear-filled blue eyes. "Are the bad ladies gone?"
"Yes, piccola mia," Raffaele murmured warmly, offering her a soft, reassuring smile that chased the shadows from his angular face. "The bad lady is gone forever. I promise you."
He turned and walked away from the terrified, silent guests, carrying his daughter into the cool, quiet interior of the massive mansion. He bypassed the grand foyer and walked directly to the private residential wing on the second floor.
He brought Lily into her expansive, beautifully decorated bedroom. A loyal estate nanny, a kind-faced woman who had been locked out of the room by Vanessa earlier, was waiting nervously by the door.
"Oh, sweet heaven," the nanny gasped, seeing the filthy state of the little girl's princess dress and the tears on her rosy cheeks. "Mr. Moretti, I am so sorry. Miss Vanessa told me—"
"I know what she told you," Raffaele interrupted softly, his raspy voice gentle but firm. "You are not to blame. Draw a warm bath. Throw this dress in the garbage. And ensure she has her favorite toys waiting for her."
"Right away, sir," the nanny said, hurrying into the en-suite bathroom to start the water.
Raffaele gently set Lily down on the edge of her plush, oversized bed. He knelt in front of her, entirely ignoring the dirt transferring onto his expensive suit trousers. He carefully unlaced her tiny, scuffed shoes and slipped them off her feet.
"You are the most important person in this entire world, Lily," Raffaele whispered, looking directly into her innocent eyes. "You are a Moretti. You never, ever bow your head to anyone. Do you understand me?"
Lily nodded slowly, a small, brave smile finally breaking through her sadness. "I understand, Daddy."
Raffaele kissed her forehead, the rough texture of his short, well-trimmed beard brushing against her soft skin. He stood up as the nanny returned with a fluffy towel.
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"Stay with her," Raffaele instructed the nanny. "Do not leave this room."
He walked out of the bedroom, the heavy mahogany door clicking shut behind him. The moment he was alone in the brightly lit hallway, the warm, loving father vanished. His sharp jawline clenched tightly. He had protected his daughter, but the political fallout of publicly humiliating and imprisoning the daughter of a rival syndicate was going to be catastrophic. He needed to prepare for war.
