Chapter 6 - Bloodlines and Bargains
The study cleared out in a flurry of muffled curses, sobbing, and heavy tactical boots escorting the Romanos down the corridor.
Within minutes, the sprawling fourth floor fell back into silence.
I stood beside the drafting table, trembling so hard my teeth were chattering. The adrenaline that had kept me upright was rapidly draining away, leaving behind a hollow, nauseating exhaustion.
The cut on my hand was bleeding freely now, the red liquid pooling on the dark mahogany, dripping steadily onto my skirt.
Luca didn't say a word. He walked over to the side table, picked up the medical kit Dr. Evans had left behind, and pulled a fresh roll of gauze and a pair of surgical scissors from the pouch.
“Sit,” he said softly.
I sank into the armchair, my strength completely spent.
Luca knelt on the floor before me. A man worth billions, whose family lineage stretched back to European royalty, was on his knees on the hardwood floor, gently lifting my trembling, bloodied hand onto his knee.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, a hot tear finally spilling over my eyelashes and running down my cheek. “I got blood on your desk. I got blood on your floor.”
Luca paused. He looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with an emotion so raw, so stripped of his usual aristocratic arrogance, that it took my breath away.
“Emma,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “You just saved my life’s work. You took a bullet that was meant to destroy me. And you’re apologizing for the floor?”
He began cleaning the torn skin with antiseptic. The sting was sharp, but I didn't pull away. I watched his large, calloused hands handle mine with the delicate care one might show to spun glass.
“Why did you do it?” I asked in a whisper. “You pulled a gun on Victor Romano’s men. He has power, Luca. He has connections. He could destroy your shipping lanes.”
“Let him try,” Luca muttered, wrapping the fresh gauze tightly around my palm. “Victor Romano thought he owned me because of an ancient promise my father made on his deathbed. He thought he could plant his sociopathic daughter in my home, steal my fleet, and dictate my life.”
He tied off the bandage with a crisp, practiced knot. But he didn't let go of my hand. He held it between both of his, his thumbs gently resting against my pulse.
“No one dictates my life, Emma,” he continued, rising slowly to his feet until he was leaning over the chair, his face inches from mine. “And no one hurts what belongs under my protection.”
The air grew thick. The scent of rain, cedarwood, and the faint tang of copper hung between us.
“I’m just a maid, Luca,” I whispered, using his first name without thinking. The word slipped out, fragile and terrifying. “Tomorrow, when the sun comes up, the world will still see me as the girl who scrubs your floors. Victor Romano will use the press. They’ll paint me as the home-wrecker who seduced you to steal Isabella’s ring.”
Luca reached out with his right hand, his long fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me gently, irresistibly closer.
“Let them talk,” he murmured, his breath fanning across my lips. “Let the whole world choke on their gossip. Because tomorrow night, there is still a gala in this house.”
My breath hitched. “The gala? You’re not canceling it?”
“Cancel it?” Luca’s lips curved into a dark, intoxicating smile. “And let Victor think I’m hiding? Never. Five hundred of the most powerful people on the Eastern Seaboard have already RSVP’d. Governors, ambassadors, hedge fund titans. They are coming to see Luca Moretti announce the future of his empire.”
“Without Isabella?”
“Isabella never mattered,” Luca said, his thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip with agonizing sweetness. “I needed a partner who was brave enough to stand in the fire with me. Someone with the spine to look a monster in the eye and refuse to flinch.”
He leaned down further, until his forehead rested against mine.
“You’re coming with me to that gala, Emma.”
Panic flared in my chest, cutting through the intoxicating haze of his touch. “No. No, Luca, I can't! I don't belong in that ballroom! I don't know how to speak to those people. They’ll eat me alive!”
“They won't touch you,” he growled softly against my skin. “Because you’ll be on my arm. And anyone who looks at you with anything less than absolute reverence will find their credit lines frozen by sunrise.”
He pulled back just enough to look directly into my eyes. With his other hand, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded white envelope. He placed it gently in my lap.
“What is this?” I asked, staring at the thick parchment.
“A certified wire receipt,” Luca said casually. “Three million dollars, transferred directly to St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital in Liam’s name. A dedicated private pediatric wing, the best oncologists in the country, and five years of guaranteed aftercare.”
The room seemed to tilt. A sob tore from my throat, raw and violent.
“Liam…” I couldn't breathe. My hands clutched the envelope against my chest as if it were oxygen. “You paid for Liam?”
“Your brother is safe, Emma,” Luca whispered, his fingers gently brushing away the tears cascading down my cheeks. “His debt is gone. Your family’s debt is gone. You don't owe me a single second of your life. If you want to walk out those gates tomorrow morning, I will have a car take you to him, and you will never have to see this house again.”
I stared at him through blurred vision.
He was offering me freedom. The very thing I had sacrificed my education, my youth, and my pride to achieve. I could walk away clean. Liam would live. I could go back to being ordinary, invisible, and safe.
“And what if I stay?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the beating of my own heart.
Luca’s eyes flared with a dark, possessive hunger that made my knees tremble even while sitting down.
May you like
“If you stay,” Luca said, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, “we burn the Romanos to the ground together. But understand this, Emma: if you walk into that ballroom with me tomorrow night, there is no going back to the shadows. You become the center of my world. And I do not let go of what is mine.”
***
