Hidden Secrets
Amara had been working in the DeLuca mansion for two weeks now. Every morning, she woke up to little Isabella's laughter, and every night she tucked her into bed with a kiss on the forehead. The little girl had grown attached to her so quickly—it warmed Amara's heart, but it also made her nervous. She was starting to forget that she was supposed to leave once she found a way out of her complicated situation.
Lorenzo, on the other hand, was becoming more difficult to read. Sometimes he was cold, distant, and intimidating—the Mafia boss everyone feared. Other times, he was unexpectedly gentle, especially when it came to Isabella… and sometimes, when he looked at Amara.
That night, after dinner, Isabella ran to her room to get her doll. Amara stayed behind to clear the table, but Lorenzo stopped her.
"You don't have to do that. We have staff for it," he said, his deep voice carrying that usual authority.
Amara avoided his gaze. "It's a habit. I don't like leaving things messy."
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, watching her. His eyes lingered longer than they should have, and Amara felt her chest tighten.
"You're not like the others who've worked here," he said slowly. "Most of them were too scared to even look me in the eye."
Amara finally met his gaze. "Maybe that's because I see you differently."
Something shifted in the air between them.The silence was thick, filled withPerfect
The night felt unusually quiet in the DeLuca mansion. The long dining hall, lit by golden chandeliers, seemed too big for just three people—Lorenzo, Amara, and little Isabella.
Amara had just finished helping Isabella with her meal when the little girl bounced out of her chair.
"Papa, can I show Amara my new dollhouse?" she asked, her big brown eyes pleading.
Lorenzo smiled faintly, brushing her hair back. "Go on, piccola. Don't stay up too late."
The little girl ran off, her giggles echoing through the halls. Amara moved to gather the plates, but Lorenzo's deep voice stopped her.
"You don't have to do that. We have staff for it."
She hesitated. "It's fine. I like to keep busy."
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he studied her. His gaze was heavy, sharp, yet curious.
"You're not like the others who've worked here," he said. "Most of them were terrified of me."
Amara placed the plates down carefully and finally looked at him. "And should I be?"
His lips curved into a half-smile, one that made her chest flutter in a way she didn't want to admit.
"Maybe," he said softly. "But you're not. Why?"
Amara swallowed, feeling the weight of his stare. "Because I don't just see a Mafia boss. I see… a father who tucks his daughter in at night. A man who pretends to be colder than he really is."
The air between them thickened. His eyes darkened, not with anger, but something else—something that made her pulse quicken. For a brief moment, Lorenzo forgot the world outside, forgot the wars, the blood, the betrayals. All he saw was this woman standing before him, unafraid.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Amara," he said in a low tone, his voice brushing against her like velvet and fire.
She forced a small smile. "So are you, Lorenzo."
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed violently against the polished wood of the table. He glanced at the screen, and his jaw tightened. His entire expression shifted—from vulnerable man to ruthless boss in a single breath.
"Business," he muttered, standing quickly. His towering frame loomed over her as he slipped on his black jacket. "Stay with Isabella tonight. Don't let her out of your sight."
Amara nodded, but her curiosity burned. She had seen the name flash across his phone before he picked it up—Marco.
Her blood went cold. She knew that name. Marco was the same man who had been following her weeks ago, the same shadow that haunted her every move before she ended up in this mansion.
As Lorenzo left the dining hall, his footsteps echoing like a warning, Amara's thoughts spiraled.
How does Lorenzo know Marco? Why is he calling him? And more importantly… is Lorenzo protecting me from Marco, or working with him?
Her heart raced as she walked slowly toward Isabella's room. The little girl was already waiting in bed, hugging her doll.
"Amara, will you stay with me tonight?" she asked sleepily.
Amara forced a smile and tucked her in, kissing her forehead. "Of course, sweetheart. I'll be right here."
But as Isabella drifted into peaceful dreams, Amara sat by the window, staring out into the dark estate grounds. Somewhere out there, Lorenzo was handling dangerous business. And somehow, her past was colliding with his world.
She whispered into the night, her chest tightening with fear and confusion.
"Lorenzo… who exactly are you to me?"
unspoken words. Just as Amara was about to excuse herself, Lorenzo's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his jaw