Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Syndicate
While peace bloomed inside the sunroom, the dark clouds of the Moretti family history began to gather outside the estate gates.
In a penthouse suite in downtown Manhattan, a gathering of the rival syndicate—the Valenti crime family—was underway. Sitting at the head of a glass conference table was Marco Valenti, a cruel, ambitious man who had been plotting to seize control of the New York docks ever since Gabriel’s wife died two years prior.
Beside Marco sat a woman dressed in high-fashion Italian silk: Julianna Valenti, Marco’s sister and the woman who had been trying, unsuccessfully, to arrange a political marriage with Gabriel Moretti for eighteen months.
"He cancelled the dinner again?" Julianna demanded, slamming her designer purse onto the table. "I flew in from Milan specifically for the Moretti gala next week! Gabriel is supposed to introduce me as his fiancee!"
"He isn't thinking about marriage, sister," Marco growled, flicking open a silver switchblade and digging the tip into the glass table. "He’s obsessed with his crippled brat. My contacts inside his estate say he just fired his entire domestic staff."
Julianna’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Because of some fat, common maid he hired from a local agency," Marco laughed coldly. "Word is, the maid has gotten close to the girl. Gabriel has given her free rein of the house. She’s sleeping in the guest wing, eating his food, wearing clothes he bought her."
Julianna’s face twisted into a snarl of pure hatred. "A maid? Gabriel Moretti is refusing the Valenti bloodline for a chubby servant girl?"
"It’s an insult," Marco snarled. "And an opportunity. Gabriel is growing soft. He spends his afternoons playing games in a sunroom instead of managing his enforcement squads. If we strike now—if we embarrass him at the upcoming annual charity gala by exposing his little fling with a low-class nobody—his board of directors will question his leadership. The other families will see him as weak."
Julianna smiled, a slow, venomous grin spreading across her painted red lips. "Leave the maid to me, brother. I will make sure that by the end of the gala, she wishes she had stayed in the gutter where she belongs."
Back at the Moretti estate, unaware of the trap being prepared, Emma was standing in the master library. The room was grand, lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves, leather armchairs, and the rich smell of old paper and brandy.
She was searching for a book of children's fairy tales that Leo had requested before bed. Reaching up to the third shelf, she stretched on her toes, her sweater riding up slightly past her waist.
Suddenly, two large hands rested gently on her hips.
Emma gasped, dropping her arm. Gabriel was standing directly behind her, his chest pressed against her back. His hands were warm, firm, and astonishingly gentle as they stabilized her.
"Allow me," Gabriel whispered near her ear. He reached up effortlessly, pulling the heavy leather-bound book from the shelf and handing it to her.
Emma turned in the tight space between his body and the bookshelf. She was trapped, framed by mahogany and the sheer physical dominance of the man before her. Her breath came in short, ragged hitches.
"Mr. Moretti... I should get back to the children," she stammered, her heart racing.
"Gabriel," he corrected softly. He didn't move away. Instead, his eyes swept over her face, tracing the soft line of her jaw, the lush fullness of her lips, and the rise and fall of her chest. "Call me Gabriel."
"It wouldn't be appropriate. I'm an employee—"
"You are no longer an employee, Emma," Gabriel interrupted, his thumb lightly brushing against her cheekbone, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. "As of this morning, your contract with the domestic agency has been bought out. You are no longer a maid in this house."
Emma blinked, a sudden wave of panic hitting her. "You're... you're letting me go? But Lily—"
"I am hiring you as Lily and Leo’s personal guardian," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a deep, intense rumble. "With a private salary, your own suite, and absolute authority over their care. No one commands you. No one disrespects you." He leaned in closer, his dark eyes burning with an intense, raw emotion. "And because I want you here. Not just for my children, Emma. For me."
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. For years, she had been told she was too much—too big, too loud, too burdensome. But looking into Gabriel Moretti’s eyes, she saw no judgment. She saw a man who looked at her as if she were the most precious treasure in his world.
Before she could answer, Gabriel’s encrypted phone rang sharply in his pocket, breaking the spell.
Gabriel sighed, stepping back slightly to answer it. His tone instantly hardened back into the voice of the mob don. "Speak."
He listened for a moment, his jaw tightening into iron. "I see. Tell Marco Valenti that I will be at the gala on Friday. And tell him to prepare his final shipments."
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He hung up, turning back to Emma. His eyes held a sudden, protective determination.
"On Friday night, there is a gala," Gabriel said smoothly. "The entire elite of New York will be there. The crime bosses, the politicians, the high society snakes." He held out his hand to her. "I want you to come with me. As my guest."
