Chapter 4 - The Fortress on Beacon HillThe Maybach glided through the massive, wrought-iron security gates of the Moretti Estate perched on the highest crest of Beacon Hill at 1:15 AM.
The estate was a grand, stone fortress surrounded by soaring brick walls, private infrared cameras, and broad-shouldered men in dark tailored suits carrying suppressed automatic weapons.
When the vehicle stopped outside the grand mahogany front doors, Adrian stepped out first, extending his broad, calloused hand to help me down.
I stared at his hand. My worn work shoes felt soaked, my feet aching from an eight-hour shift.
"Mr. Moretti," I hesitated, holding my sweater tight around my curves. "I can't stay here. My brother is at home with our neighbor, Mrs. Gable—"
Before I could finish my sentence, Adrian stepped forward, his broad arm sweeping effortlessly beneath my knees and around my back, lifting my broad, soft frame into his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.
"ADRIAN!" I gasped, my face flushing hot as my hands instinctively clutched his tailored suit lapels. "Put me down! I'm too heavy!"
Adrian stopped dead in his tracks on the marble steps.
He looked down into my face, his storm-gray eyes burning with an absolute, terrifying fury that made my breath catch in my throat.
"Never say those words in my presence again, Mara," Adrian commanded softly, his deep voice carrying a fierce, unyielding weight. "You are magnificent. Every single inch of you is perfection. And if anyone in this city ever made you feel otherwise... I will tear their world apart."
My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I thought it would burst through my chest.
He carried me through the grand marble foyer, up a sweeping double staircase, into a cozy, firelit master guest suite on the second floor. He gently set me down into a plush velvet armchair near the hearth.
He dropped onto one knee flat on the oriental rug before my chair.
The most feared mafia boss in the city—a man whose name made politicians tremble— knelt before a broke, plus-size waitress, reaching out his broad hands to carefully, reverently unlace my wet, broken work shoes, taking them off my bruised feet.
"Adrian..." I whimpered, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "Why are you doing this?"
Adrian raised his head slowly, his dark eyes holding mine with an unshakeable, eternal devotion.
"Because seven years ago, Mara," Adrian revealed softly, his thumb stroking my ankle, "I sat in a dark room after my father was murdered, surrounded by men who wanted my crown, surrounded by lies, blood, and fake smiles."
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He stood up tall, towering over my chair, buttoning his suit jacket.
"And tonight," Adrian promised, "a woman walked into my darkest corner, kissed my lips to prove she wasn't afraid, and told me the absolute truth. I am never letting you go back to that dark world, Mara."
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