Chapter 4 - A Gilded Cage
Bella spent her first three days at the Moretti Estate wandering through its massive corridors, feeling like a ghost trapped in a golden cage. She had been given a luxurious guest suite on the third floor, complete with a walk-in wardrobe filled with exquisite clothes that fit her perfectly—clearly curated by Francesca.
Despite the luxury, Bella felt suffocated. She was used to the constant hustle of the city, the roar of the subway, and the familiar chatter of regular customers. Here, the only sounds were the quiet footsteps of guards and the distant roar of the ocean below the cliffs.
On the fourth night, unable to sleep, Bella slipped out of her room and walked down to the estate's massive industrial kitchen. She needed something familiar to ground her.
She turned on the dim lights, tied her hair back, and began gathering ingredients from the massive walk-in pantry. Baking had always been her therapy. She found flour, sugar, fresh lemons, and ricotta cheese. For the next hour, she lost herself in the rhythm of kneading dough and zesting lemons, creating a traditional Italian ricotta cake—a recipe her grandmother had taught her.
"Baking at three in the morning?"
Bella gasped, dropping her wooden spoon. She spun around to find Leo standing in the doorway. He had discarded his formal suit jacket; his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered in intricate, dark tattoos. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and a glass of amber whiskey in his hand.
"You scared me," Bella breathed, pressing a hand to her heart. "And yes. I couldn't sleep. It's too quiet here."
Leo walked into the kitchen, the scent of warm lemon and sugar filling his senses. He looked at the neatly formed cake sitting on the counter, ready for the oven. "My grandmother used to make that exact cake when I was a child. Before the war with the Valenti family broke out."
Bella looked at him, seeing a glimpse of humanity behind the ruthless mafia Don persona. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, Mr. Moretti."
"Leo," he corrected quietly, leaning against the marble island. "And sleep is a luxury I can rarely afford. When you sit at the top of the pyramid, everyone wants to push you off."
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"It sounds like a miserable way to live," Bella said softly, sliding the cake into the oven.
Leo took a slow sip of his whiskey, his gray eyes locking onto hers through the dim light. "It is. But it's the only way to keep my family alive. Including you now, Bella."
