Chapter 5 - The Safe Room|
I led Sophie across the thick Persian rug to her father’s desk.
Gabriel knelt down on the floor in front of her, entirely unbothered by his tailored trousers resting on the dusty wood. He looked at his daughter with a raw, agonizing remorse that no amount of money or syndicate power could ever fix.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Gabriel whispered, signing the word sorry by circling his fist over his heart—a sign I had taught him two weeks ago in the hallway. “Daddy didn't know. I swear to you, I never knew.”
Sophie looked at his face for a long time. Then she leaned forward and wrapped her small arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.
Gabriel closed his eyes tightly, holding her close against his chest.
Over her curly dark head, his eyes met mine.
“How long have you known about the Thursday lady, Hannah?” he asked quietly.
“Sophie mentioned a lady who smelled like heavy perfume three weeks ago,” I answered truthfully. “She thought the lady was a new tutor you had hired. I didn't suspect anything was wrong until today, when I found the seating chart had been altered.”
Gabriel stood up, keeping Sophie held securely against his hip. “Isabella threatened you earlier. About your mother.”
I swallowed, looking down at my hands. “She mentioned the assisted-living facility.”
“Consider it taken care of,” Gabriel said flatly. “Your mother’s care will be transferred to a private medical network tomorrow morning. Fully paid. No connection to the Marconi family.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Mr. DeLuca, you don't have to do that—”
“You protected my daughter when I was too blind to see what was happening in my own home,” Gabriel said, his voice thick with an emotion he rarely allowed anyone to see. “I owe you more than a healthcare policy, Hannah.”
He looked down at Sophie, who was rubbing her sleepy eyes.
“She trusts you,” Gabriel continued, looking back at me. “More than she trusts anyone else in this house. I want to offer you a new position.”
I blinked. “A new position?”
“Personal companion and private instructor for Sophie,” Gabriel proposed, stepping closer. “Full salary, private quarters on the second floor, and complete authority over her care and education. No more catering trays. No more waitressing.”
I looked at Sophie, who was watching my face intently, her small fingers making the sign for Please.
“I... I would be honored, Mr. DeLuca,” I whispered.
Gabriel offered a rare, genuine smile—a sight that transformed his stern, intimidating face into something strikingly handsome.
“Call me Gabriel,” he said softly.
Before I could reply, Daniel re-entered the study, his expression grim.
“Boss,” Daniel said, keeping his voice low. “We searched Isabella’s car before towing it off the estate. We found something in her trunk.”
Gabriel’s smile vanished instantly. “What?”
“A secondary cell phone,” Daniel reported, holding up a cheap burner device in a plastic bag. “And the last outgoing call was made ten minutes ago to Victor Moretti.”
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Gabriel went entirely still.
Victor Moretti was the leader of the rival syndicate in East Chicago—and the man long suspected of orchestrating the car accident that had killed Gabriel’s wife four years ago.
