Chapter 5 - The Ghost of the Villa
At midnight, the villa was silent save for the low hum of the heating vents and the steady pour of rain against the slate roof.
Lorenzo walked down the carpeted hallway of the third-floor west wing. His footsteps were silent.
Outside the double doors of the guest suite, Pino sat like an iron statue, his ears pricking up as Lorenzo approached. The dog gave a quiet, low whimper of welcome.
Lorenzo touched the keycard to the lock, and the heavy oak door clicked open with a faint blue light.
Inside, a single lamp was lit on the nightstand.
Elena was fast asleep on the plush velvet sofa in the sitting room, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, her face relaxed for the first time in months.
Lorenzo walked past her silently into the bedroom.
The king-sized bed was vast, but three-year-old Mia was curled up into a tight little ball right in the center of it, swallowed by white Egyptian cotton sheets. Her one-eyed rabbit was tucked safely beneath her chin.
Lorenzo stopped at the edge of the bed.
He had spent thirteen years surrounded by men who wanted to kill him, women who wanted his money, and politicians who wanted his power. He had built walls around his life so thick that nothing could penetrate them—no affection, no weakness, no regret.
He looked at the small, fragile girl sleeping peacefully in the middle of his family’s house.
She had no idea who he was. She didn't know about the docks, the blood on his hands, or the war that was about to erupt between the Duca and Moretti families because of what had happened in the garden today.
All she knew was that he smelled like coffee and carried her when her feet were cold.
Mia stirred slightly, her small dark eyes opening halfway as she sensed his presence in the room.
“Mr. Big Coat?” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.
Lorenzo knelt beside the bed, resting his large hands against the dark wood frame.
“It’s Lorenzo,” he whispered softly. “Go back to sleep, Mia.”
Mia reached out a tiny, warm hand from beneath the duvet and touched his thumb. Her fingers were impossibly small against his calloused skin.
“Is the bad woman gone?” she asked.
“She’s gone,” Lorenzo promised. “She won't ever come near you or your mother again.”
“Did Pino bite her?”
Lorenzo’s lips curved into a genuine, quiet smile. “Not yet. But he offered.”
Mia let out a tiny, contented sigh, her eyes drifting shut again as her small fingers relaxed around his thumb.
“You’re a good man,” she mumbled, her breath slowing into deep, rhythmic sleep. “My mommy said good men are hard to find... but I found you behind the trash bins.”
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Lorenzo didn't pull his hand away.
He stayed kneeling on the cold hardwood floor beside the bed, holding the child’s hand in the quiet darkness, while outside his window, the storm raged on.
