Chapter 2 - An Unforgivable Debt
The morning sun crept across the sprawling Valente estate, illuminating the manicured hedges and high iron gates lined with armed sentries. Inside the sunroom, Matteo was laughing aloud, buttering a fresh, steaming croissant that Isa had baked from scratch before dawn.
""Richi hates sweets,"" Matteo remarked cheerfully, winking at Isa as she set down a porcelain cup of black coffee. ""He thinks sugar makes men sentimental. Watch him choke down black espresso while glaring at my plate.""
Right on cue, Richi stepped into the sunroom carrying a stack of leather-bound folders. His eyes instantly swept the room, checking the corners out of instinct, before locking onto Isa's form. She was wearing a simple lavender sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places, her dark brown curls pinned loosely with a tortoiseshell comb. Richi’s throat moved visibly as he swallowed.
""Marco found something interesting this morning,"" Richi said, ignoring the chair opposite his father and remaining standing, his presence towering and suffocating.
Isa’s stomach plunged into an icy void. She gripped the silver serving tray tighter against her ribs.
""Did he?"" Matteo asked smoothly, though his fingers stiffened slightly around his butter knife. ""I hope it’s a way to lower our shipping insurance.""
""No,"" Richi said, his voice dropping into that chilling, silky tone he used right before an execution. He tossed a thin manila envelope onto the white tablecloth right next to his father's cup. ""A small collections agency operating out of Queens was liquidated last night. Three thugs ended up in the emergency ward with shattered knees. The local enforcers claimed they were collecting a delinquent gambling debt from an old account.""
Richi turned his dark gaze directly toward Isa. Every drop of blood drained from her face.
""Julian Hayes,"" Richi stated coldly. ""A cowardly accountant who stole twenty million dollars from my late uncle's transport network before drinking himself into a fatal cardiac arrest. He left behind a mountain of interest-bearing debt with every loan shark from Jersey to Manhattan. And he left behind a daughter.""
The silence in the sunroom became deafening. Outside, the chirping of morning birds sounded violently out of place.
""Richi, that is enough,"" Matteo warned, his voice shaking with sudden fury as he shoved his chair back. ""Julian paid for his greed with his life! His daughter had nothing to do with his operations!""
""She works in our kitchen, Father!"" Richi snarled, slamming his fist onto the table so violently that the fine porcelain rattled. ""She walked through our security checkpoints with forged background clearances! Did you honestly think Marco could bury Chicago court records deep enough that my analysts wouldn't uncover them within forty-eight hours?""
Isa stepped forward, tears burning the corners of her eyes, but her spine remained remarkably straight. ""I didn't forge anything, Mr. Valente. I applied to a blind domestic agency. I never touched a penny of my father’s stolen money! He abandoned my mother and me when I was twelve years old! The only thing he ever gave me was a list of men who wanted to kill me for debts I never signed for!""
Richi stepped directly into her personal space, his towering frame completely blocking the sunlight. He was so close she could smell the rich scent of cedarwood, expensive tobacco, and pure, intoxicating menace.
""Your father took blood money that belonged to families under my protection,"" Richi whispered, his voice dangerously low, his thumb reaching out and roughly catching a stray tear that rolled down her warm cheek. His touch was burning hot despite the cruelty in his words. ""You owe this house twenty million dollars, Miss Hayes. A cook's salary won't pay off the interest in three lifetimes.""
""Then shoot me,"" Isa choked out, looking directly into his ruthless eyes without flinching. ""Shoot me like your men shoot everyone else. Because I don't have twenty million dollars, and I refuse to spend the rest of my life running from ghosts.""
Matteo gasped, grabbing at his chest, but Richi never broke eye contact with the defiant girl before him.
Something feral, fascinated, and utterly possessive flickered deep within Richi’s amber eyes. His fingers lingered on her soft skin a fraction of a second too long before he dropped his hand.
""Death is far too easy, Miss Hayes,"" Richi said, his lips curling into a wicked, dangerous smirk. ""You wanted to feed this family? Now you belong to it. You will not leave this estate without my explicit permission. You will cook every meal. You will serve my father. And when I come home at night, you will answer only to me until every single cent of Julian's debt is worked off. If you attempt to step beyond those front gates, I won't kill you. I will simply buy out the loans on every relative you have left and watch them starve.""
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""You monster,"" she whispered.
""I am the Don,"" Richi replied, turning his back on her as though she were already his property. ""Get back to the kitchen. My father prefers his lunch at noon sharp.""
