But as the adrenaline faded, Sophie felt her legs give out. The world spun, and darkness took her.
Part 3
When Sophie opened her eyes, the world was white and smelled of antiseptic and expensive lilies. She blinked, trying to clear the fog in her brain.
She was not in her room. She was in a hospital room, but unlike any she had ever seen. The walls were mahogany, the linens were silk, and the view out the window was of the Moretti private gardens.
She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in her side made her gasp.
“Don’t move.”
The voice was rough, like gravel grinding together.
Sophie turned her head. Lorenzo sat in a wingback chair beside the bed. He looked terrible. His stubble had grown into a beard. His eyes were bloodshot, and he still wore the same bloodstained white shirt from the night of the attack.
“Lorenzo,” she croaked. “How long?”
“2 days,” he said, standing and pouring her a glass of water with a shaking hand.
He held the straw to her lips.
“You lost a lot of blood. The knife missed the artery by 2 mm. You also have a concussion.”
Sophie drank greedily, the cool water soothing her parched throat. Memories of the attack came flooding back. The gunfire. Marco Salvaro. The knife at her throat.
“Toby,” she gasped, gripping Lorenzo’s wrist. “Where is Toby?”
“He’s fine,” Lorenzo assured her, covering her hand with his. “He’s in the game room with Silas. I think Silas is teaching him how to play poker. The boy is resilient.”
Sophie exhaled, her body sinking back into the pillows.
“And Isabella?”
“She is currently baking cookies for the security team,” Lorenzo said, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. “She believes she defeated the bad man with her gardening shears. She is very proud of herself.”
Sophie let out a weak laugh that turned into a wince.
“She did. She saved us.”
Lorenzo’s face darkened. He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. He looked at her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
“You saved us, Sophie.”
He reached out and traced the bandage on her neck, his touch feather-light.
“I watched the security footage. You threw a bust at an armed man. You offered yourself as a hostage. You fought back.”
He paused, his jaw tightening.
“You are the most foolish person I have ever met.”
“I did what I had to do,” Sophie whispered.
“You are a maid,” Lorenzo said, his voice rising slightly. “You are supposed to hide. You are not supposed to bleed for this family.”
“I’m not just a maid, though, am I?” Sophie challenged, searching his eyes. “Not anymore.”
Lorenzo stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It was the contract she had signed 3 weeks earlier, the one that gave her a salary, a home, and a set of rules.
He held it up so she could see it.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he tore it in half, then into quarters. He let the pieces flutter to the floor like snow.
Sophie’s heart dropped.
“You’re firing me?”
Panic rose in her chest.
“Lorenzo, please. I have nowhere to go. If this is about the danger, I don’t care. I can’t go back to that apartment. I can’t—”
“Sophie, stop.”
He grabbed her shoulders gently.
“I am not firing you. I am voiding the contract because it is an insult to what you are to me now.”
He leaned in close, his dark eyes burning with possessive fire.
“Employees are replaceable. You are not.”
“Then what am I?” Sophie asked, her breath hitching.
“You are my partner,” Lorenzo said firmly. “You are the woman who stood in the fire with me and didn’t burn. I don’t want a maid, Sophie. I have plenty of people to clean my floors. I want a queen.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
“The Salvaros are gone. Marco is in a hole he will never crawl out of. Nurse Hopkins has been dealt with. The threat is neutralized. But my world is still dangerous. It will always be dangerous.”
He looked deep into her soul.
