Chapter 3 - The Mafia's Debt
Claire felt the air leave her lungs completely.
“My apartment?” she whispered, her hands shaking violently.
“Everything I own is in that building.”
Vincent walked slowly around the mahogany desk, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her.
“You are safe here,” he promised, his voice a low, soothing rumble.
“Safe?” Claire laughed hysterically, pointing toward the steel doors.
“There are people shooting machine guns in your garden!”
Vanessa scoffed loudly from the corner of the room.
“She is a maid, Vincent, just give her a check and let her leave.”
Vincent ignored his fiancée completely, stopping just inches away from Claire.
He reached out and gently touched the unburned skin near her collarbone.
His touch was surprisingly warm, sending a strange, terrifying shiver down her spine.
“My family honors its debts, Claire Bennett.”
“I never asked you for anything,” she insisted, stepping back from his overwhelming presence.
“You gave me back my sister,” he said quietly.
“That means my money, my men, and my protection belong entirely to you now.”
Eleanor nodded from the armchair, wiping her tear-stained face.
“He is right, Claire, you are family now.”
Vanessa let out a sharp, ugly laugh.
“Family? Look at her, Eleanor!”
Vanessa pointed a manicured finger directly at Claire’s plus-size figure and torn uniform.
“She is a nobody who wipes our floors.”
Before Vincent could react, the steel door to the study beeped and unlocked.
A woman with striking dark hair and a leather jacket stepped into the room.
She held a smoking gun in her right hand, her face completely covered in soot.
It was Lucia Moretti.
Claire recognized the dark, intense eyes of the little girl she had saved twenty years ago.
Lucia was now twenty-seven, beautiful, and absolutely lethal.
“The lawn is clear, brother,” Lucia announced, slipping her gun into a shoulder holster.
Eleanor rushed forward, throwing her arms around her daughter.
Lucia hugged her mother briefly before her gaze landed on Claire.
The young woman froze, her hard expression breaking into absolute shock.
“It’s you,” Lucia whispered, taking a slow step forward.
Claire pulled her torn collar up awkwardly.
“Hello, Lucia.”
Lucia did not smile, nor did she cry like her mother had.
Instead, she looked profoundly terrified.
“Why are you here?” Lucia demanded, her voice rising in panic.
“She works here,” Vincent explained smoothly.
Lucia shook her head violently, backing away toward the door.
“You have to leave immediately,” Lucia told Claire.
“She has nowhere to go, her apartment was just destroyed,” Vincent argued.
Lucia turned to her brother, her eyes completely wild.
“Don't you understand what this means, Vincent?”
Vincent frowned, clearly confused by his sister's intense reaction.
Lucia pointed a shaking finger at Claire.
“The fire twenty years ago was not a random accident.”
The entire room went completely silent.
“The man who set that fire wasn't trying to kill our family,” Lucia revealed.
Claire felt a cold dread wash over her entirely.
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Lucia looked directly into Claire's eyes.
“He was trying to kill you, Claire, and he just found you again.”
