Chapter 2 - THE VIP SUITE AND THE BROOKLYN SHARKS
By eight o’clock the following morning, Emma’s life had been shattered and reconstructed in a span of twelve hours.
She woke up not in her narrow cot in the dark basement of the servants' quarters, but in a king-sized canopy bed draped in four-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. The west-wing suite was flooded with golden morning sunlight, overlooking the estate’s manicured Italian gardens.
Standing beside her bed was a quiet, impeccably dressed young woman holding a tablet.
“Good morning, Miss Brooks,” the woman said with a polite bow. “I am Clara, your personal assistant, assigned directly by Mr. Moretti. Your mother’s dialysis center in Queens has just called to confirm that her entire treatment account has been settled, and she has been transferred to a private care room at Mount Sinai Hospital.”
Emma sat up rapidly, her mind struggling to process the words. “Transferred? To Mount Sinai?”
“Yes, Miss Brooks. The chief of nephrology is handling her case personally,” Clara replied smoothly. She set down a silver tray containing fresh croissants, seasonal berries, dark roast coffee, and a pitcher of squeezed orange juice. “Mr. Moretti requests your presence in the private study at ten o'clock. But first, your wardrobe has arrived.”
Clara stepped aside and pressed a remote control.
The heavy mahogany closet doors slid back automatically, revealing rows of custom-tailored clothing—luxurious cashmere sweaters in deep emeralds and soft creams, tailored high-waisted trousers, elegant silk blouses, and hand-stitched leather shoes. Every single piece was sized precisely to fit her full, voluptuous figure, designed to accentuate her waist and drape effortlessly over her curves without a single trace of awkwardness.
For the first time in her life, Emma put on a pair of cream trousers and a soft burgundy cashmere sweater that didn't feel like a tent designed to hide her body. When she looked in the full-length mirror, she didn't see a "chubby maid." She saw a woman whose soft curves were framed in pure, undeniable royalty.
At nine-thirty, a loud, joyful giggle echoed down the hallway.
Emma opened her bedroom door to find Lily and her energetic twin brother, Leo, tearing down the corridor. Leo was pushing a small wooden toy car, while Lily—holding onto a custom-built lightweight walker—was taking rapid, determined steps behind him, her little face flushed with absolute triumph.
“Emma! Look!” Lily squealed, her tiny voice filled with radiant pride. “I’m catching him! I’m catching Leo!”
Emma fell to her knees right there in the hallway, her arms opening wide. “You’re so fast, Lily! Look at you go!”
Lily navigated her walker right into Emma’s lap, throwing her small arms around Emma’s neck and burying her face against her collarbone. “Daddy said you’re going to stay with us forever now. Is that true?”
Emma looked up and saw Gabriel standing at the end of the long hallway.
He was wearing a dark charcoal three-piece tailored suit, looking every inch the ruthless underworld kingpin who controlled half the Eastern seaboard. But his eyes were warm as he watched his daughter holding onto Emma.
“It’s true, sweetheart,” Gabriel’s voice boomed down the hallway as he walked toward them. “Emma isn't going anywhere.”
He reached down, taking Lily into his arms while Leo latched onto his leg. Gabriel offered his free hand to Emma, helping her rise smoothly to her feet. His thumb brushed against her wrist, sending a subtle, electricity-like jolt straight up her arm.
“Are you comfortable in your suite?” Gabriel asked softly, his eyes taking in her new appearance. His gaze lingered on the way the burgundy sweater brought out the warm gold flecks in her brown eyes, a flash of deep, primitive approval passing through his features.
“It’s... it’s beyond anything I’ve ever dreamed of, Mr. Moretti,” Emma admitted honestly, her cheeks warming slightly under his intense stare. “Thank you. For my mother. For everything.”
“Call me Gabriel,” he corrected smoothly. He turned to the nanny who had stepped out behind the children. “Take Leo and Lily down to the terrace for breakfast.”
Once the children were ushered away, Gabriel turned to Emma, his expression shifting into something colder, sharper, and far more lethal.
“Come into my office. We have guests.”
Inside Gabriel’s private mahogany study, two men in cheap grey suits were sitting nervously on the edge of high-backed leather chairs.
One was an older, balding man with sweat glistening on his forehead—Arthur Vance, owner of Vance Medical Logistics.
The other was a handsome, slicked-back man in his late twenties wearing a loud designer watch—Marcus Vance, Emma’s ex-fiancé.
When the door opened and Emma stepped into the room beside Gabriel Moretti, Marcus’s jaw dropped in absolute, unadulterated shock.
“Emma?!” Marcus blurted out, standing up instantly. “What the hell are you doing here? You... you’re wearing thousands of dollars of cashmere! Did you steal that from the house inventory?!”
“Sit down, Mr. Vance,” Gabriel said. His voice wasn't loud, but the terrifying weight behind it made Marcus’s knees instantly buckle, forcing him back into his chair.
Gabriel walked behind his heavy oak desk, but he didn't sit down. He leaned against the edge, crossing his arms, his massive frame completely dominating the space.
“Emma is not a maid in this house, Marcus,” Gabriel said smoothly. “She is the head of recovery for my children. And as of eight o’clock this morning, she is the majority shareholder of Vance Medical Logistics.”
Arthur Vance let out a strangulated squeak. “What?! Mr. Moretti, please! Our company has held the transport contract for Moretti shipping ports for ten years! You can’t just seize our shares!”
“I didn't seize them, Arthur,” Gabriel replied with a cold, predatory smile. “I bought out your ninety-million-dollar default debt from Bank of America. Your company was insolvent. I purchased your loans, converted them into equity, and transferred seventy-five percent of the voting rights into Emma Brooks’s personal name.”
Marcus’s face turned bright red, then pale white. He stared at Emma in absolute disbelief. “This... this is insane! She’s a broad, uneducated maid! She doesn't know anything about logistics! She couldn't even manage her mother’s medical bills without begging me for money!”
Emma felt a surge of cold fury rise within her chest.
For two years, Marcus had degraded her. He had called her needy. He had told her that no other man would ever look twice at a woman of her size. He had dumped her at her mother’s bedside because her sorrow was “ruining his social image.”
She stepped forward, standing tall beside Gabriel’s desk, her eyes cold and steady as she looked down at the man who had broken her heart.
“I managed my mother’s bills because you stole twelve thousand dollars from our joint savings account to buy that fake Rolex on your wrist, Marcus,” Emma said, her voice ringing clear and steady through the room.
Marcus flinched as if he had been slapped.
“As the majority owner of Vance Logistics,” Emma continued, looking at Arthur Vance, “my first executive order is the immediate termination of Marcus Vance from all operations, payroll, and corporate properties. He has thirty minutes to clear his desk.”
“Emma! You bitch!” Marcus screamed, lunging out of his chair toward her—
THUD!
He never made it across the Persian rug.
Gabriel’s arm moved like a strike from a panther. He caught Marcus by the throat mid-air, slamming him hard against the heavy oak paneling of the wall!
The air exploded from Marcus’s lungs in a violent gasp. His legs dangled six inches off the floor as Gabriel’s fingers tightened around his airway, his tattooed neck bulging with raw, terrifying power.
“If you raise your voice to her again,” Gabriel whispered into Marcus’s ear, his eyes completely black with murderous intent, “I will throw you into the East River inside a concrete barrel. Do you understand me?”
Marcus choked out a desperate, terrified nod, his eyes bulging with pure horror.
Gabriel dropped him onto the floor like a sack of trash. He turned to Arthur Vance, who was trembling violently in his chair, on the verge of tears.
“Take your pathetic son and get out of my sight,” Gabriel commanded coldly. “Emma will be sending a professional auditor to your offices tomorrow morning. If there is a single dollar missing from her corporate accounts... you will answer to my enforcers.”
Arthur scrambled out of his seat, dragging his coughing, sobbing son out of the study as fast as his legs could carry him.
The heavy doors clicked shut.
Emma stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving, her hands trembling from the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
Gabriel walked over to her slowly. The dark, terrifying monster who had just threatened to murder a man in broad daylight melted away, replaced by a deep, intense tenderness.
He reached up, gently cradling her soft face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away a solitary tear that had slipped down her cheek.
“Are you alright, Emma?” he asked gently.
Emma looked up into his eyes, feeling the warmth of his hands, the solid safety of his presence.
“I’ve never felt more alive in my entire life,” she whispered.
May you like
Gabriel smiled—a true, mesmerizing smile that made her heart skip three consecutive beats.
“Good,” Gabriel murmured, his face inching closer to hers. “Because we’re just getting started.”
