Chapter 3 - The Arrival in Albany
The black Maybach pulled up to the driveway of the modest, two-story suburban home in Albany at three o'clock on Friday afternoon.
It was accompanied by two discreet black SUVs that parked at the ends of the street—Dominic’s security detail, dressed in plain clothes, quietly establishing a perimeter around the peaceful neighborhood.
Sophia sat in the plush leather back seat of the Maybach, her hands locked together in her lap, her ring pressing heavily against her finger. Lily was fast asleep in her custom leather car seat beside them, clutching Mr. Whiskers.
"Breathe," Dominic’s deep voice shattered her spiraling thoughts.
She turned to look at him. He had changed into an unbuttoned charcoal wool coat over a navy sweater, looking effortlessly handsome, like a European aristocrat on vacation.
"My sister Emma is going to ask a million questions," Sophia warned, her voice trembling. "She’s suspicious by nature. And my aunt Clara... she gossips with everyone in town. If they find out who you really are—if they search your name on the internet—"
"Let them search," Dominic said calmly. "They will find that I am the CEO of Moretti Global Enterprises. They will find that I am worth billions. And they will find that I do not give interviews."
"And what if they ask how a maid met a billionaire?"
Dominic reached across the space between them and covered her hands with his own. The heat of his palm sank deep into her skin, grounding her instantly.
"They won't ask," Dominic said, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. "Because when they see how I look at you, they won't care about the details. They will only see a man who has succumbed."
Before Sophia could process his words, the front door of the house flew open.
Emma, a bright-eyed woman of twenty-four with her hair in foam rollers, came running down the porch steps, followed closely by Aunt Clara, who was wiping her hands on a dish towel.
"Sophia!" Emma squealed, stopping dead in her tracks as she reached the sleek, dark Maybach. Her jaw dropped as the driver—a tall, built man in a dark suit—stepped out to open the door.
Sophia stepped out first, her emerald silk dress catching the afternoon sun, her leather pumps clicking against the asphalt.
Emma stared at her sister as if she were seeing a ghost. "Sophia? Is... is that you?"
"Hi, Emma," Sophia said, offering a nervous smile.
Before Emma could speak, the driver opened the rear door on the other side, and Dominic Moretti stepped out.
The air in the quiet suburban street seemed to shift instantly. Dominic’s towering height, his broad shoulders, and the unmistakable, dangerous air of supreme power that surrounded him made Aunt Clara drop her dish towel right onto the grass.
Dominic walked around the back of the car, stopping beside Sophia. Without a word of hesitation, he wrapped his arm smoothly around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. The gesture was so natural, so possessively intimate, that Sophia’s breath hitched in her throat.
"Emma," Sophia stammered, leaning into Dominic’s solid frame as instructed. "This is... this is Dominic."
Emma’s eyes went from Sophia’s designer shoes to the massive diamond ring on her finger, and finally up to Dominic’s sharp, handsome face. "Dominic? As in... your boyfriend?"
"Fiancé," Dominic corrected smoothly, his voice dropping into that deep, rich tone that made Emma’s cheeks flush instantly. He held out his hand to Emma. "It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma. Sophia talks about you constantly."
Emma took his hand numbly, shaking it. "Fiancé? Sophia, you didn't tell us you were engaged!"
"It happened recently," Dominic said, his fingers tightening gently on Sophia’s hip, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles through the silk of her dress. "I couldn't let her come to your wedding without putting my mark on her hand."
Aunt Clara rushed forward, her eyes wide with shock and greed. "My goodness! Look at this car! Look at that ring! What did you say your last name was, young man?"
"Moretti," Dominic said, offering a polite, razor-sharp smile that offered no further information. "Dominic Moretti."
"Moretti?" Aunt Clara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Like... the shipping company?"
"Among other things," Dominic replied easily. He turned to the driver. "Marco, bring the bags inside. And bring the gift box for Mrs. Carter."
Marco efficiently unloaded three massive leather trunks from the trunk, along with an elegant, ribboned box from a high-end Manhattan jeweler.
"Where is Sophia’s mother?" Dominic asked, his voice softening as he looked down at Sophia.
"She’s... she’s in the living room," Emma said, still visibly stunned. "She’s in her medical chair. She’s been waiting all day."
Sophia felt a sudden tightening in her chest. The fear of the lie vanished, replaced by the raw, aching reality of why she was here. She looked up at Dominic, her eyes filled with unspoken gratitude.
Dominic looked down at her, his expression softening into something so genuinely tender that Sophia’s heart skipped a beat.
"Let's go see your mother, darling," he murmured, his hand sliding down to clasp hers, his fingers locking tightly with hers.
They walked up the porch steps together.
Inside the small, warm living room, amidst the smell of oxygen tanks and floral air freshener, sat Mrs. Carter. She looked frail, her white hair thin, her hands trembling as she rested them on her blanket. But her eyes—bright, blue, and sharp—were fixed entirely on the doorway.
"Sophia?" her mother’s weak voice called out.
Sophia broke away from Dominic and rushed across the room, dropping to her knees beside her mother’s chair, burying her face in her mother’s lap. "Mom... I’m here. I’m here."
Mrs. Carter stroked her daughter’s hair, her weeping eyes moving from Sophia’s sleek dress to the towering figure standing in her doorway.
Dominic stepped into the room. He did not stay standing like a grand lord visiting a peasant’s cottage. To Sophia’s absolute shock, the powerful mafia boss lowered himself down, taking a seat on a wooden stool right beside the old woman’s chair, placing his large, warm hand gently over her frail, spotted fingers.
"Mrs. Carter," Dominic said, his voice deep, respectful, and filled with a quiet gravity that filled the humble room. "I am Dominic. It is an honor to meet the woman who raised the most extraordinary person I have ever known."
Mrs. Carter stared at him, her chest heaving as she fought back tears. She looked at his suit, his dark eyes, and then down at Sophia’s left hand, where the diamond sparkled brightly in the dim light.
"You... you love my girl?" Mrs. Carter whispered, her voice trembling with the fragile hope of a dying mother.
May you like
Dominic did not hesitate. He looked directly at Sophia, his eyes burning with an intensity that made the entire world outside that small room fade into dust.
"With everything I have, Mrs. Carter," Dominic said, his voice ringing with absolute, terrifying truth. "I will protect her, and I will protect Lily, for as long as I live. You have my word as a man."
