Chapter 3 - The Gilded Cage of the Estate
The black armored Maybach rolled smoothly through the iron gates of the Moretti estate, an imposing Gothic fortress perched high atop the cliffs of the northern coast. Rain lashed against the tinted windows, mirroring the storm raging inside my mind.
I sat in the plush leather backseat, completely dwarfed by Dante's coat. My bare legs were dotted with dried specks of red wine and floor dirt, a stark, vulgar contrast to the pristine Italian leather beneath me. Across from me sat Dante, sipping sparkling water from a crystal tumbler, his sleeves rolled up to reveal dark tribal tattoos winding up his forearms.
"Why didn't you speak up two years ago?" he asked, breaking the silence that had lasted since we left the Sterling manor.
"Speak to whom?" I countered, hugging the oversized coat tighter around my frame. "To the man who ordered my father’s assets seized? To the Moretti council who claimed my father synthesized the poison that killed your uncle? If I had revealed who I was, your soldiers wouldn't have put me in the scullery. They would have put me in a shallow grave in the Pine Barrens."
Dante set his glass down on the console. The click was sharp, decisive. "My uncle died of natural heart failure. The council doctored the autopsy report to eliminate Alexander because he refused to cook untraceable narcotics for them. I discovered the truth six months ago."
My breath hitched. "You knew?"
"I executed the three councilmen responsible last month," he said coldly, without a trace of remorse. "I have been searching for Alexander’s family ever since. I was told his daughter died of pneumonia in the slums of South Boston."
I let out a bitter, breathless laugh. "Julian Sterling bought my debt paper. He wanted me hidden where no one would ever look—scrubbing baseboards under the heel of his cruel sister. They kept me fat on scraps of bread and starches to break my spirit, turning the daughter of an honors chemist into an invisible beast of burden."
Dante’s gaze darkened, his eyes dropping to my rounded jawline, then down to my trembling, swollen fingers. "They did not break your spirit. And you are no beast, Cora. You are the sharpest blade in this city, and Julian was too blind with arrogance to realize he had kept an executioner in his pantry."
The car came to a stop before the massive stone portico. The chauffeur opened the door, and cold seaside wind immediately whipped inside. Before I could stumble out on my battered shoes, Dante stepped out first, turned, and reached for me.
"I can walk," I said instinctively, pulling back.
"Your back is bleeding through that apron," Dante stated, his tone brooking no argument. Without waiting for my permission, he slipped one massive arm behind my shoulders and scooped another under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly against his chest.
I gasped, my hands automatically flying to his broad shoulders for balance. I was not a light woman—two years of cheap carbohydrates and forced labor had given me soft, heavy curves that the socialites sneered at. Yet Dante didn't flinch. He carried me up the marble stairs as though I were made of porcelain, his breathing even and slow.
"You're going to ruin another suit," I mumbled, burying my face in the crook of his neck to hide the furious blush heating my cheeks.
"I have a thousand suits, Cora," he whispered near my ear, his voice rumbling through his chest into mine. "I only have one toxicologist."
We entered the grand foyer, where a dozen armed guards and elderly house staff stood in rigid formation. At the front was Mrs. Rossi, the head housekeeper, who gasped when she saw her terrifying master carrying a dirt-stained, bleeding woman.
"Mr. Moretti! Heavens, should I call the clinic?"
"Call Dr. Evans," Dante commanded, not breaking his stride as he marched past them toward the grand staircase. "Tell him to bring antiseptic burn salves and surgical sutures. And prepare the master suite."
"The master suite, sir?" Mrs. Rossi echoed, her eyes practically popping out of her head. "Not the guest wing?"
May you like
"The master suite," Dante repeated, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling. "And double the guards on the perimeter. The Sterlings will realize within the hour that their failed coup has failed completely. Tonight, the hunt begins."
***
