Chapter 9 - Return to the Sanctuary
The sun was just beginning to paint the Chicago skyline in shades of bruised purple and gold as our Mercedes pulled back through the iron gates of the Moretti estate.
The forensic cleanup crew had finished scrubbing the banquet hall, replacing the shattered glass and clearing away the debris from the previous night’s chaos.
Dr. Russo was waiting in the east wing medical suite, holding a new, lightweight carbon-fiber cast and a tray of specialized pain management medications.
“Sit down, Grace,” Luca instructed softly, guiding me toward the velvet chair in his private study while Julianna was taken to a guest suite down the hall to rest.
“You’ve been running on pure adrenaline for twelve hours, and your hand needs professional attention.”
“I’ll be fine once the cast is changed,” I murmured, sinking back into the cushions as exhaustion finally hit my bones.
Dr. Russo stepped forward with gentle efficiency, carefully cutting away the bloody makeshift bandage and the heavy plaster splint.
A sharp sting of pain shot through my knuckles as the air hit the swollen flesh, but I bit my lip and kept quiet.
Luca stood beside the doctor, watching the bruised skin with an expression of dark, suppressed remorse.
“The fractures are severe, Grace,” Dr. Russo said professionally as he molded the new carbon-fiber support around my forearm.
“You won’t be lifting heavy serving trays for at least six weeks.”
“I understand, Doctor,” I whispered, looking down at my lap.
“Thank you.”
Dr. Russo packed his instruments and bowed politely before leaving the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
The study fell into a profound, heavy silence, broken only by the crackling embers of the fireplace.
Luca walked over to the mahogany desk, poured two fresh cups of hot tea, and placed one on the small table beside me.
“You don’t have to worry about rent anymore, Grace,” Luca said quietly, leaning against the edge of the desk.
“And you certainly don’t have to worry about working as a maid in this house ever again.”
My chest tightened with a sudden, complicated wave of emotion.
“Does that mean I’m fired, Mr. Moretti?”
Luca looked at me, a faint, unexpected smile touching the corners of his lips.
“Fired? After you saved my empire, exposed a federal conspiracy, and rescued the chief logistics officer’s daughter?”
“I think my administrative staff needs a new chief of confidential operations,” he continued, stepping closer and resting his hands in his pockets.
“An executive assistant who actually knows how to handle a crisis without folding under pressure.”
I looked up into his dark, steady eyes, realizing that my life in the Moretti mansion had changed forever.
“I would like that, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly.
May you like
“Call me Luca,” he corrected, extending his uninjured hand down toward mine.
“Only when we’re off duty,” I replied with a faint, tired smile, sliding my left hand into his warm grasp.
