Chapter 4 - The Shadow of the Tiger
The next morning, the Moretti estate was alive with nervous energy.
Naomi woke up not in the modest staff quarters in the basement, but in a sunlit guest suite on the second floor with panoramic windows overlooking the manicured rose gardens. A wardrobe filled with tailored dresses and silk blouses had been delivered before dawn by high-end private couriers.
When Naomi walked downstairs into the kitchen to prepare Isabella’s herbal tea, the head chef and kitchen staff immediately bowed their heads in respectful deference.
"Miss Carter," Chef Marcus greeted nervously. "The Don left strict orders. You are not to lift a finger in the kitchen. Miss Isabella’s tea is already prepared to your exact specifications."
Naomi swallowed hard. The sudden change in how everyone treated her was dizzying. Just twenty-four hours ago, she was an invisible worker washing floors; now, she was treated like royalty.
She took the porcelain tray to the sunroom, where Isabella was sitting by the French windows, bathed in morning light. Isabella smiled warmly the moment Naomi entered, holding out both hands.
"Good morning, Isabella," Naomi said gently, placing the tea on the marble side table. "How is your cheek feeling today?"
Isabella touched the bruised cheek, then patted Naomi’s hand, shaking her head as if to say, *It doesn't hurt anymore.* Then, Isabella tapped a rhythm on the arm of her chair—two quick taps, one long.
"You're in good spirits," Naomi laughed softly, kneeling beside her.
The heavy wooden doors swung open, and Luca walked into the room. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the top buttons undone and dark trousers, looking less like a lethal underworld kingpin and more like an impossibly handsome patriarch. But the twin Berettas strapped beneath his shoulder harness kept the dangerous reality close at hand.
"She’s in good spirits because you're here," Luca said, his eyes immediately finding Naomi.
Naomi stood up quickly, smoothing her skirt. "Mr. Moretti."
"Luca," he corrected instantly, stepping closer. "Behind closed doors, you call me Luca."
Naomi felt a flush of warmth rise up her neck. "Luca."
He reached out, his long fingers lightly brushing against the side of her neck where a faint red scratch from Vivian’s nails remained. Naomi shuddered at the unexpected intimacy of his touch, her breath hitching. Luca’s eyes darkened at her reaction, but he didn't pull away immediately.
"The physician will examine you this afternoon," Luca said, his voice husky. "I don't tolerate my people bearing wounds caused by others."
"It's just a scratch, I assure you," Naomi whispered, unable to look away from his intense gaze.
"Nothing concerning you is 'just' anything anymore," Luca replied firmly. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and set it beside the tea. "The Valenti family has already responded to Vivian’s dismissal. Her father, Don Vincente Valenti, called an emergency summit at tonight’s gala. He intends to demand an apology and public restitution."
Naomi’s eyes widened with anxiety. "Then why bring me? If they see me there, they will target you even more! They'll say you broke an alliance for a servant!"
Luca let out a low, dark chuckle that sent shivers down her spine. "Let them think whatever they want. The Valentis have grown arrogant, hiding behind their high-society titles while secretly financing human trafficking at the docks. I needed a reason to crush them completely. Vivian handing me this treason on a silver platter was the best gift she could have given me."
He stepped closer, his chest nearly touching hers. "You are not my weakness tonight, Naomi. You are my statement. The entire city will see that the woman who protected my mother holds more honor in her little finger than the entire Valenti bloodline combined."
Isabella smiled proudly from her chair, nodding in fierce agreement.
Naomi looked down at her hands, feeling a strange mix of terror and intoxicating warmth. For years, she had survived in the shadows, running from a past full of betrayal and poverty. No one had ever shielded her. No one had ever fought for her honor.
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"I won't embarrass you, Luca," she said softly, lifting her chin with newfound determination.
"You couldn't embarrass me if you tried," Luca whispered, his thumb grazing her lower lip for a fleeting, electrifying second before he turned to leave. "Be ready by seven. My driver will escort you down."
