Chapter 1 - The Valuation of a Soul
The emergency room hallway felt like it had lost all its oxygen. The sterile scent of antiseptic was entirely masked by the overwhelming presence of the man standing before me. He didn’t tower over me, but he didn’t have to; his posture, the absolute stillness of his frame, and the way the hospital staff treated him like a stray spark in a gunpowder room told me everything I needed to know.
"My name is Lorenzo Bellandi," he said, his voice a smooth, low baritone that vibrated straight through the tiled floor. "And I do not make requests twice, Miss Vance."
I gripped the damp towel tighter around my shoulders. My red lifeguard swimsuit was still damp, sticking to my skin, making me feel utterly exposed against his flawless, custom-tailored Italian suit. "You know my name. You know my mother’s medical bills. You’ve been digging through my life for the ten minutes you were inside that room."
"Information is the only currency that never devalues," Lorenzo replied, his dark eyes tracking the drop of seawater falling from the tip of my wet hair. "Your mother, Clara Vance, is in the advanced stages of early-onset dementia. The facility she is in is costing you three thousand dollars a month more than your lifeguard salary and swimming lessons provide. You are three weeks away from an eviction notice on her care plan."
The truth of his words hit me harder than the undertow that had tried to drown little Lila. A hot flush of shame and anger rose to my cheeks. "So what? You’re going to threaten to throw my sick mother on the street because I saved your daughter’s life?"
A subtle shift occurred in his expression—not kindness, but a cold, calculating appreciation. "If I wanted to threaten you, Miss Vance, you would already be outside. I am offering you a transaction. You saved the only thing in this world that matters to me. In return, I am offering to clear your mother’s debt entirely. She will be moved to the private wing of the finest neurological institute in the state by tomorrow morning."
I blinked, my breath catching. "And what do you want in return?"
"You," he said simply.
The four men standing behind him didn't flinch, but I felt my heart take a violent leap against my ribs.
"Lila has not touched the ocean, let alone stood near it, since her mother died a year ago," Lorenzo continued, stepping slightly closer. The scent of expensive cedarwood and cold winter air rolled off him. "Today, she went into the water. The doctors say she has been calling for the 'red girl' since she woke up. She refuses to let the nurses touch her. She refuses to eat. She wants you."
"I'm a lifeguard, Mr. Bellandi. Not a nanny."
"You are whatever I pay you to be," he corrected softly, though the edge in his voice was razor-sharp. "You will be her personal companion. You will live at the estate. You will ensure she feels safe. In exchange, your financial burdens cease to exist. Do we have a deal, Maya?"
Hearing my first name on his lips felt like a contract in itself. I looked past his broad shoulders, through the glass window of the pediatric room. Tiny Lila was sitting up in the oversized hospital bed, her hazel eyes wide and filled with a terrifyingly profound loneliness. Her small hand was still clutching the air, as if looking for the wrist she had held onto in the ambulance.
I looked back at the most dangerous man in the city. The rumors about the Bellandi family were whispered in dark corners—control over the shipping yards, judges in their pockets, a trail of blood that the police never managed to follow.
May you like
"If I see my mother whenever I want," I whispered, "and if you never look into my private life without my permission again... I'll do it."
Lorenzo’s lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smile—a beautiful, lethal thing. "Agreed. Welcome to the family, Maya. Try not to regret it."
