SHE ABANDONED THIS FAMILY FIFTEEN YEARS AGO. DON'T YOU DARE OFFER HER A SEAT!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S AUNT HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD MAID FOR HELPING A PO

I didn't turn around immediately. I stared at his hand covering mine on the doorknob.

“I’m going home, Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “My mother is probably worried sick. And you have a flight to Italy to arrange.”

Luca gently turned me around by the shoulders.

The fierce, untouchable mafia boss looked at me with an expression of complete vulnerability.

“You can't leave, Emma.”

“I have to,” I said, forcing a sad smile. “I don't belong in Tuscany. I don't belong in a safehouse. I’m a housekeeper. And right now, you don't have a house to keep.”

“I didn't ask you to stay to clean my floors,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a low, rough murmur.

He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m asking you to stay because I don't want to wake up in a house where you aren't,” he confessed.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I had spent ten months keeping my head down, avoiding his gaze, pretending not to notice how my pulse raced every time he walked into a room. I had convinced myself I was invisible to him.

But looking into his eyes now, I realized he had been seeing me all along.

“Luca,” I breathed, using his first name for the first time. “My mother… the mortgage… I can't just abandon my life here.”

Before Luca could answer, the door to the living room opened.

Grace peeked her head out.

“Emma?” the thirteen-year-old girl asked softly.

I quickly wiped a tear from my eye. “Yes, sweetie?”

Grace walked down the hallway. She looked exhausted, but the perpetual anxiety that had haunted her for months was gone.

She held out a small, rectangular envelope.

“Dad—I mean, Uncle Luca—said you couldn't leave until you opened this.”

I looked at Luca, confused.

He gave me a small, encouraging nod.

I took the envelope from Grace.

It was heavy, sealed with a red wax stamp bearing the Moretti crest.

I broke the seal and pulled out the document inside.

It was a bank statement.

I read the numbers, my eyes widening in absolute shock.

The document showed a wire transfer made three hours ago.

The recipient was the bank holding my mother’s mortgage.

The balance of the mortgage was listed as zero. Paid in full.

“Luca,” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. “You paid off my mother’s house?”

“I had Daniel process the transfer while we were at the police precinct,” Luca said calmly.

“I can't accept this,” I stammered, shaking my head. “It’s too much money. It’s charity.”

“It isn't charity,” Luca said, his voice hardening with absolute sincerity. “You held a detonator in your bare hands to save my niece. You stood between me and a cartel mercenary. There isn't enough money in the world to repay that debt.”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“Your mother’s house is safe. Your brother’s tuition is paid for the next four years. Your family is secure, Emma.”

I stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what he had done. He had erased every burden that had kept me awake at night for the last two years with a single phone call.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Because I want you to be free,” Luca said softly. “I want you to make your own choices from now on. Not because you’re desperate for a paycheck, but because you want to.”

He reached out and took my hand.

“So I’m asking you again, Emma. Will you come to Italy with us?”

I looked at the piece of paper in my hand. I looked at Grace, who was smiling at me with quiet hope. And I looked at the man who had just dismantled his entire empire to protect the people he loved.

I dropped my duffel bag onto the hardwood floor.