Chapter 5 - Shadows of the Past
"Who is she, Luca?" Viktor growled, slamming a heavy glass of whiskey down on the oak desk inside Luca's private home office.
Viktor was a scar-faced man with cold blue eyes and a permanent scowl. He had spent his life in the bloodier corners of the underworld and believed that sentiment was a disease that got men killed.
"She is my daughter's companion," Luca replied calmly, not looking up from his financial ledgers. "And she is a guest in this house, Viktor. Lower your voice."
"She's a housemaid!" Viktor sneered, crossing his arms. "The board is talking, Luca. The street captains are talking. You come back from your hiatus with a little girl and immediately elevate a nobody into your inner circle? People think you've gone soft!"
Luca stopped writing. Slowly, he raised his head. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees instantly.
"I spent three years tearing apart the syndicate that murdered my wife, piece by bloody piece," Luca said, his voice dropping into a register that made even the battle-hardened Viktor wince. "Do I look soft to you, Viktor?"
"No, Boss," Viktor grumbled, looking away. "But the Valenti family is pushing at the docks. They think you're distracted by family life. If you don't show force soon, they will strike."
"Let them push," Luca said coldly. "They will learn what happens when you disturb a sleeping lion."
Meanwhile, downstairs in the estate's vast kitchen, Clara was helping Sofia decorate gingerbread houses. Clara wore a simple, elegant dark green dress—a gift from Luca—that complemented her soft curves and brought out the warmth in her hazel eyes.
Sofia giggled as she smeared white frosting across Clara’s cheek. "You look like a snowy mountain, Clara!"
"Oh yeah?" Clara laughed, gently dabbing a bit of frosting on Sofia’s nose. "Well, you look like a winter reindeer!"
Luca stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching the two of them laugh. For three years, his home had been a place of quiet grief and deadly strategy. But Clara had filled the drafty stone halls with laughter, smell of warm cinnamon, and real, unconditional love.
He stepped into the kitchen, his heart swelling with feelings he thought had died with his late wife.
"Is there room for one more decorator?" Luca asked softly.
Sofia clapped her hands. "Daddy! Come make a roof with us!"
Luca sat down beside Clara at the marble island. As he reached for a gingerbread piece, his fingers brushed against Clara’s hand. An electric shock passed between them. Clara blushed, looking down at her apron, but Luca didn't pull his hand away.
"Thank you, Clara," Luca murmured so only she could hear. "For bringing light back into this house."
May you like
"You gave me a home, Mr. Bellandi," Clara replied softly.
"Call me Luca," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "Please."
