Chapter 2 - The Master Suite
The master suite of the Moretti estate was larger than any apartment Rosa had ever lived in.
Heavy velvet curtains framed floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling, moonlit grounds.
Alessandro closed the heavy oak door behind them, finally cutting off the chaotic whispers of the household.
Rosa stood awkwardly in the center of the lavish room, feeling completely out of place in her stained apron.
Lily immediately dropped her stuffed rabbit and climbed onto the massive king-sized bed with a happy giggle.
Alessandro watched his daughter with a look of absolute wonder that softened his hardened mafia features.
He turned to Rosa and asked why she had chosen to live as a servant when she was carrying his heir.
Rosa swallowed hard, admitting that she wanted to protect her child from a life filled with violence and death.
Alessandro stepped closer, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her breath catch.
He promised her that no one in the world would ever dare to hurt them again.
He reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind Rosa's ear.
The brief touch sent a shockwave of electricity through her entire body, awakening memories of their passionate night.
Before they could speak another word, a heavy knock echoed against the bedroom door.
Dante, the head of security, urgently requested permission to enter the room.
Alessandro stepped back, his posture instantly returning to that of a ruthless mob boss.
Dante stepped inside, his expression grim and his hands tightly clasped behind his back.
He reported that Isabella had barricaded herself in the guest wing and refused to leave the property.
She was claiming diplomatic immunity under the peace treaty signed by the two mafia families.
Alessandro cursed under his breath, knowing that forcing her out could trigger an immediate bloodbath.
He ordered Dante to post four armed guards outside the master suite at all times.
Rosa felt a cold chill run down her spine as she realized the terrible danger she had just placed her daughter in.
She walked over to the bed to tuck Lily in, hoping the soft blankets would offer some illusion of safety.
She pulled back the expensive silk duvet to settle the little girl into the pillows.
Her blood ran completely cold.
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Resting right in the center of Lily's pillow was a single, dead black rose.
Pinned to the thorny stem was a handwritten note that read, "Bastards don't live long."
