Page 324 of Rosetti Family New York
"Carmela used to love me," I murmur, gazing at the mansion's windows glowing with a warm yellow light that makes the huge building seem almost inviting. Almost. "Now she'll want me dead."
"My sister protects what she loves," Emilio corrects as we drive under the marble portico, where classical columns support a facade that speaks of old power. "She hated that you had power over me. That you could hurt me."
"And now?"
His smile is sharp, predatory, the kind that makes other men step aside without thinking. "Now she'll learn that some things are worth the pain."
The valet appears, smartly dressed despite the late hour, moving efficiently and respectfully as he opens my door.
As we approach the entrance, memories flood back. The heavy doors with their geometric patterns feel like prison bars lit from behind, and stone steps echo beneath our feet. This place shaped Emilio, made him the man he is—smart, dangerous, and completely devoted to protecting what's his.
Inside, the foyer rises above us, with clean lines and a rich emptiness that make my voice feel small. A chandelier oftwisted metal and crystal hangs like a frozen explosion, casting sharp shadows over walls lined with abstract paintings that cost millions but reveal nothing about the people who live here. Polished floors shine like mirrors beneath my feet.
But it's the silence that hits me the most, the deep quiet of a house holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next.
"Where is everyone?" I whisper, though my voice still echoes in the large space.
"Early morning meeting about Callahan retaliation," Emilio says as he guides me further into the mansion, his hand resting on my back, both leading and claiming. "Dom wanted to talk to them first before bringing you in."
Before letting them see the potential threat I pose. The weight of their distrust hangs on me like a weight, making each step feel harder as our footsteps echo on the marble along the hallways.
"Your room is in the east wing," Emilio says as we go up a staircase that spirals like a marble ribbon, the banister smooth under my hand from countless others who have held it before. "Family quarters."
The meaning isn’t lost on me. Not a guest room in the west wing where visiting dignitaries and business partners stay, but the family area where the Rosetti children grew up, where secrets are shared, and loyalty is unwavering. Domenico is either showing great trust or wants me close enough to watch my every move.
"With you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, revealing more vulnerability than I intended.
His smile is knowing, possessive, a man who pursued his prey for a long time and finally caught it. "With me. Where you belong."
The corridor leading to his suite is wider than most hallways, lined with family photos in sleek metal frames that show decades of Rosetti power, formal portraits, candid shots fromfamily trips to places many will never visit. In many of them, the family resemblance is clear, the sharp intelligence in their eyes, and the confidence from generational wealth.
Emilio's suite is in the northeast corner of the family wing, just as I remember it, a place reflecting his personality in every detail. The sitting area has furniture that quietly hints at its luxury, with clean lines and neutral colors that create a sense of calm. Large windows offer impressive views of the grounds, though the privacy glass ensures no one can see in.
But it's the technology that truly makes this his space. Screens are seamlessly built into the walls, keyboards hidden in furniture that changes with a touch, and cables and equipment are tucked away behind panels, making the area look simply elegant while housing advanced systems. It's the perfect blend of old-world luxury and modern technology.
"Still the same," I note, running my fingers along the edge of his custom desk where I used to watch him work, amazed by his focus on data that most people couldn't even understand.
"Not entirely." He moves to stand behind me, hands resting on my waist with a warm possessiveness. "I added security measures. Better surveillance. Improvements designed with you in mind."
His words send warmth through my belly despite my exhaustion. Even when I was gone, even when he didn't know if I'd return, he was preparing for me. Building defenses to protect me. Creating a safe haven for me.
"Show me," I whisper. I lean back against his chest; his arms wrap around my waist. His hands guide mine to what looks like a simple lamp base. When I touch it, a panel slides open, revealing biometric scanners and controls for systems I can only imagine.
"Every surface, every fixture, every piece of furniture has been modified. The room is a fortress disguised as a bedroom."
"And the bed?" I ask, though I don’t know why the question matters.
"Custom mattress with sensors that monitor heartbeat, breathing, body temperature." His lips brush my ear, and I get shivers that have nothing to do with cold. "I wanted to know the moment you were having nightmares, if you were sick, if someone had drugged you."
I’m not surprised, just relieved. Even when I was away, he cared for me the only way he knows: with technology, planning, and relentless attention to detail.
Before I can answer, urgent voices echo in the corridor, the hush of a family fight in muted tones. Through the heavy oak door, I hear Carmela’s indignant voice, then Matteo’s dismissive laugh, and Domenico trying to calm them.
"They’re discussing me," I realize, a knot of fear twisting in my stomach.
"They're protecting the family," Emilio corrects, though his own jaw tightens with frustration. "It's what we do."
The voices grow louder, and I catch phrases that make my blood run cold. Security risk, too convenient, getting him killed. They think I’m a threat. Only Emilio wants me here.
