Chapter 6
She was given a suite of rooms in a separate wing.
It was larger than her entire apartment. A king-sized bed. A walk-in closet already stocked with clothes in her size, which meant he had known her size, which meant he had known for a while. A bathroom that looked like a Roman spa.
A prison made of silk and granite.
Her first day was a blur of introductions. She met Mrs. Petrova, the stern Eastern European housekeeper who ran the estate with silent, iron-fisted authority and looked at Bella with open suspicion that she made no effort to hide.
She was given a laptop, a new phone, and a stack of files.
“You will handle my public-facing calendar,” Aleandro said, sitting across from her in his vast, minimalist office. The room was dominated by a desk of polished ebony and a single massive window over the lake. “The board meetings for Moretti Global Logistics. The charity galas. My reservations. My travel. You will be the firewall between me and the legitimate world.”
“And the illegitimate world?”
Her voice was quiet.
His lips twitched.
“Vinnie handles that. You will not be involved. Your hands will remain clean. That is part of the deal.” He looked at her levelly. “I am particular about keeping my worlds separate.”
They weren’t separate.
They bled into each other. The men who came to the house for logistics meetings had the same hard eyes and ill-fitting suits as Vinnie Gallo. The charity galas were elaborate displays of power where politicians and judges laughed and shook Moretti’s hand with smiles that did not reach their eyes.
Bella learned quickly that her job was not just to schedule.
It was to observe. To be his shadow.
And she was good at it. Her quick mind, honed by the chaos of the restaurant, adapted easily. She learned to anticipate his needs. To read the micro-expressions of his business partners. To know when to speak and when to be invisible.
She learned that he read three newspapers every morning. That he drank his coffee black and did not eat breakfast. That he never raised his voice, and that this was the thing that frightened his employees most.
And she learned that she was being watched, constantly, by a house that had been built to keep secrets.
Then there was Sophia Carboni.
Sophia was the daughter of Sylvio Carboni, an old-world capo from New York, and she had been, as Vinnie bluntly put it, circling Aleandro for years. She was stunning — raven-black hair, emerald green eyes, a wardrobe of sharp and dangerous clothes. She treated the Moretti estate like her own house, and she looked at Bella like something tracked in on someone’s shoe.
“Aleandro, caro.”
She walked into his office unannounced one afternoon while Bella was reviewing quarterly reports with him. She ignored Bella entirely, came around the desk, and draped herself over his shoulders, her hand trailing down his chest.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls. I thought we were going to the opera.”
“I’ve been busy, Sophia.”
He did not look up from the report. His body language was stiff. He was not receptive to the touch.
“Busy with *her*.” Sophia finally deigned to look at Bella, and her green eyes were full of venom. “Your little waitress. Your stray puppy. Doesn’t she smell of disinfectant and cheap pasta?”
Bella’s spine stiffened. She did not look up from her laptop.
“Isabella is my assistant, and she is far more competent than your last three.”
Aleandro gently but firmly removed Sophia’s hand from his shoulder.
“We can discuss the opera later. Isabella and I are working.”
The rejection was plain. Sophia’s painted mouth pressed into a thin line, and she shot Bella a look of pure, unadulterated hatred — a promise of future conflict — before she sauntered out, hips swaying.
“You should be careful of her,” Bella said into the silence.
“Sophia is a child playing dress-up.”
“She’s a snake. And she has her father’s backing.”
Aleandro looked at her, and a spark of that old intrigue came back into his eyes.
“You see that, do you?” He nodded slowly. “Good. She is a potential complication. But one I can handle. Now — the shipping terminal contracts.”
He was changing her. Bella could feel it. The fear she had carried into this house was being replaced, day by day, by a cold, hard pragmatism. She was learning to think like him. To see the angles. To spot the threats.
The proximity was the most dangerous part.
They worked long hours, often late into the night. She saw him not just as the mob boss but as the man — frustrated, tired, and on rare occasions thoughtful. He would find her in the library late, reading, and they would talk about books, about the city, about anything except who they really were.
There was a simmering, unspoken tension between them. A dangerous attraction that Bella fought with everything she had.
He was her captor. He was the man who had laid the trap.
But he was also the man who listened to her opinions. Who respected her intelligence. Who, in his own way, protected her.
He never laid a hand on her. He never spoke an inappropriate word. The deal was for her loyalty, not her body.
But the want was there — a palpable thing in the air between them.
One night, a storm raged over the lake and rattled the great windows in their frames. They were in his office finishing a logistics brief for a meeting in Milan.
“You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you?” he asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
“I’m used to you.” Bella closed her laptop. “It’s different.”
“And do you hate me, Isabella? For what I did. For a deal you were forced to take.”
She looked at him — the man who had so thoroughly and ruthlessly taken over her life.
“I hate how you did it. I hate that you used my brother’s weakness to trap me. I hate this cage.” She gestured at the opulent room. “But do you hate *me*?”
He asked it with an intensity that made her look away.
“I don’t know what I feel, Aleandro. Most of the time I’m just trying to survive. You’re a monster. I know that. I’ve seen the reports you try to hide from me. I know what Vinnie does in your name.”
“I have never lied to you about that.”
“No.” Her voice softened, against her will. “But you saved Marco’s life. He’s in rehab. He’s safe. He calls me every Sunday, and he sounds better.” She looked up. “You did that. The monster did that. So how can I hate you? It’s not that simple.”
He stood and walked to the window, staring out at the lightning striking the water.
“Nothing in my world is simple, Isabella. It’s all shades of gray. You’re learning that.”
He turned back to her.
“You should go to bed. You have an early meeting.”
She nodded and gathered her things. At the door, his voice stopped her.
“Isabella.”
She turned.
“You are the only person in this house who tells me the truth. The only one who isn’t afraid to.” A pause. “Don’t ever stop.”
She looked at him for a long moment — the powerful, lonely, terrible man silhouetted against the storm.
May you like
She didn’t reply.
She walked out, and the door clicked shut behind her, and she was left with the terrifying realization that her gilded cage was beginning to feel, in some small and twisted way, like the only place she was safe.
