Chapter 2
Sofia's POV
Alessandro’s presence changed the air in the room instantly. If Luca was a fire you couldn’t look away from, Alessandro was ice—still, sharp, and just as dangerous.
He didn’t take his eyes off me as he stepped inside. “I’ll give you a moment to get dressed, brother. But we need to talk.”
Luca didn’t move. His arm was still braced near my head, his bare chest inches from me, water dripping down onto the floor. His jaw ticked like he was trying to decide whether to ignore his brother entirely.
“You heard him,” I said quickly, ducking under Luca’s arm before my knees betrayed me. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my fingertips.
I bent down to grab the towels I’d dropped, keeping my eyes on the floor. If I didn’t look at either of them, maybe this could all just be chalked up to a misunderstanding.
But Luca’s voice followed me out of the bathroom. “Don’t think this is over, Sofia.”
I froze for a split second. Hearing my name from his lips again sent an ache through my chest I didn’t want to admit to. I kept walking, forcing myself down the hall toward the safety of the laundry room.
Safety, though, was a relative term in this house.
By the time I finished folding and stacking the towels, I’d convinced myself that the run-in was a fluke. The Moretti mansion was big enough that I could avoid Luca if I just stuck to my assigned areas. He was busy. He had business. Men like him didn’t have time to stalk the help.
Except apparently, they did.
When I stepped out into the hallway with the laundry basket balanced on my hip, Luca was leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting. He’d traded the towel for dark slacks and a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He looked nothing like the half-naked man I’d stumbled in on earlier… and yet somehow more dangerous.
“Come with me,” he said.
“I have work to do,” I replied, shifting the basket.
“This is work.” He pushed off the wall, walking ahead without checking if I followed.
I hesitated, then sighed and went after him. It was better than him dragging me—because I didn’t doubt he would.
He led me down a side corridor I hadn’t been in before, stopping at a set of double doors. Inside was a massive bedroom with a king-size bed, polished hardwood floors, and a view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This is my room,” he said.
I swallowed. “I’m aware.”
“You’re going to be responsible for it. Every day.”
I set the basket down a little harder than necessary. “You have a whole staff for that. I’m not—”
“You are now.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching me like a predator who’d just cornered something small and twitchy. “Consider it… a personal arrangement.”
“I don’t want a personal arrangement,” I said, heat creeping up my neck.
“That’s the problem with you, Sofia,” he said, his tone silk over steel. “You think you still get to choose.”
I turned away from him, pretending to straighten the bed just to give my hands something to do. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you ran,” he said simply. “And people don’t run from me without consequences.”
I froze, my fingers gripping the sheet. “You think keeping me here, making me clean your room, is a consequence?”
“It’s the start,” he said, moving closer. “You’ll see the rest in time.”
I forced myself to look at him over my shoulder. “You don’t scare me.”
The smirk that spread across his face was pure sin. “Liar.”
I turned back to the bed, tugging the sheets tight, pretending I wasn’t shaking inside. The truth was, I wasn’t afraid in the way he meant. I was afraid of something worse—of remembering too much. Of wanting what I swore I’d never touch again.
He watched me work in silence for a few minutes, his presence like a shadow I couldn’t shake. When I moved to dust the nightstand, my hand brushed against a frame. Inside was a photograph—me, from years ago, standing on the boardwalk with wind in my hair.
My breath caught.
“You kept this?” I asked quietly.
Luca’s gaze flicked to the photo. “I don’t throw things away easily.”
“I’m not a thing,” I snapped.
His lips curved. “You were mine. That makes you mine still.”
Before I could argue, there was a knock at the door. Luca crossed the room and opened it just enough to speak in low tones to someone outside. I caught only fragments—shipment, meeting, and the unmistakable edge of threat in his voice.
When he closed the door again, he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “Stay out of the west wing tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
I clenched my jaw. “You don’t get to order me around outside of your room.”
“Do you really think there’s anywhere in this house that isn’t mine?” he asked softly.
That shut me up.
Satisfied, he moved past me toward the bathroom. “Finish here and leave the towels. I’ll be back.”
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My hands were trembling, and my heart hadn’t stopped racing since I’d walked in.
I told myself it was just anger. That I hated the way he thought he could control me.
But the truth… the truth was a lot messier.
I glanced at the photo again, the girl in it looking so much younger, so much freer. That girl had no idea what loving a man like Luca Moretti could cost her.
I picked it up, just for a moment, tracing the edge of the glass with my fingertip. Then I set it down exactly where I’d found it and grabbed my basket.
I was almost to the door when it opened.
Only it wasn’t Luca standing there this time.
It was Alessandro.
He stepped inside without asking, closing the door behind him. His suit was perfect as always, his dark eyes steady on mine.
“You shouldn’t let him pull you back in,” he said quietly.
I gripped the laundry basket tighter. “I’m not letting him do anything.”
He tilted his head slightly. “He’ll ruin you, Sofia. And he won’t even mean to.”
I forced a tight smile. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to keep my distance.”
Something in his expression shifted—just a flicker, but enough to make my skin prickle. “That’s the thing,” he said. “I’m not sure I want you to.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and dangerous.
And in that moment, I realized Luca might not be the only Moretti I had to worry about.