Chapter 13 - Whispers in the Rose Garden
By Thursday morning, the autumn rain gives way to crisp, dry October sunshine over the Moretti grounds.
The estate gardens, once choked with fallen leaves and the bitter memory of Victoria’s escape, have been transformed.
Teams of groundskeepers are clearing the gravel paths, replacing the damaged flowerbeds with winter ivy and hardy perennials.
I sit on a stone bench beside the newly restored fountain, resting my walking boot on a cedar footstool.
In my lap rests a stack of household personnel files, resumes of women and men seeking work under the new regime.
The sound of steady footsteps on the gravel makes me look up from the paperwork.
Luca approaches, dressed down in dark denim, leather boots, and a rugged brown suede jacket.
It is the first time I have seen him without the armor of a three-piece suit, and the sight makes my pulse quicken.
"You're supposed to be supervising from the terrace, not working out here in the cold," he says, stopping beside the bench.
"The air clears my head, Mr. Moretti," I answer, shading my eyes against the bright glare.
He sits down on the stone beside me, stretching his long legs out across the pea gravel.
For several minutes, neither of us speaks; only the gentle splash of water from the fountain breaks the quiet.
"The transfer of the Montreal docks went through this morning," Luca says quietly, looking toward the tree line.
"Silvio folded without firing a single shot. Roberto is already somewhere over the Atlantic."
"And Martha?" I ask, my heart clinging to the fate of the brave old woman.
"She received her cashier's check two hours ago," Luca smiles faintly. "She is purchasing Julian's childhood home back from the bank."
"She told Daniel she wants you to visit her next Sunday for roast beef and homemade apple pie."
A warm, genuine laugh bubbles up from my chest, the tension that has gripped my shoulders for weeks finally unraveling.
"I would love that," I murmur softly. "She's an incredible woman."
Luca turns his head, his dark eyes studying the profile of my face with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.
"So are you, Natalie."
I look down at my lap, fidgeting with the corner of an employment folder.
"I just did what had to be done to survive, Luca. I'm not a hero."
"You don't understand what you did for this place," he says, his voice dropping into that deep, intimate register.
"For twelve years, every person who walked through those iron gates wanted something from me."
"My father’s old capos wanted territory. The politicians wanted envelopes of untraceable cash."
"Victoria wanted a billion-dollar empire built on the blood of her victims."
"And then you limped across my dining room carrying forty pounds of crystal, bleeding into your shoe."
"You were terrified out of your mind, but you refused to drop those flowers because you thought of your rent."
"And when that monster shoved you down those stairs, your first instinct was to protect an old woman you didn't even know."
Luca reaches out, his warm, strong hand gently closing over my fingers where they rest on the folder.
A jolt of pure warmth travels up my arm, settling deep in the center of my chest.
"I have spent my whole life surrounded by people who claim to be loyal, but you showed me what true courage looks like."
"Luca..." my voice is barely a whisper, my heart pounding so loudly I fear he might hear it.
"You called me by my first name," he observes, a rare, breathtaking smile curving his lips.
"Is that against the household rules, sir?" I tease, my cheeks flushing crimson.
"It's a requirement," Luca replies, his thumb brushing slowly across the knuckles of my right hand.
"Because as of this morning, Natalie, I don't want you thinking of yourself as an employee in this house ever again."
Before I can process the weight of his words, Daniel’s voice cuts through the garden air from the main terrace.
"Boss!" Daniel calls out, walking rapidly down the stone steps with a silver cellular phone in hand.
Luca doesn't release my hand immediately; he squeezes my fingers once with quiet assurance before standing up.
"What is it, Daniel?" Luca asks, turning toward his security chief.
"Federal Metropolitan Correctional Center downtown," Daniel says, breathless from running.
"Victoria Campbell just requested a private audience with the prosecuting attorney."
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"She claims she has the names and safe deposit numbers of three dirty judges on our family payroll."
"And she says she will trade those documents for a reduced sentence unless Luca Moretti meets her in the visiting room before four o'clock."
