Chapter 1 - The King of the KitchenEmma tilted her head, her round hazel eyes examining Dominic Moretti from head to toe. Her tiny fingers clutched the faded ear of her gray stuffed rabbit, Mr. Hops.
"Are you the king?" she repeated, her voice echoing in the vast, stainless-steel quiet of the Moretti estate’s back kitchen.
Dominic stopped halfway across the tile floor. For thirty-eight years, people had addressed him with trembling caution, cautious deference, or thinly veiled terror. They called him Mr. Moretti, Boss, Dominic, or, in the hushed whispers of federal prosecutors, a monster.
No one had ever called him a king.
A rare, almost imperceptible twitch tugged at the corner of Dominic’s mouth. He looked at the three-year-old child perched on his pristine marble counter, wearing a mismatched rain boot and a serious expression.
"Not a king," Dominic said, his deep, gravelly voice softened just enough to not frighten a sparrow. "Just a tenant. And you must be Emma."
Emma gasped, her eyes widening. "Mommy said you have big guard dogs and a giant house that eats people who don't clean their rooms."
Sophia, who had been frozen near the pantry with a stack of fresh dish towels clutched to her chest, felt her heart leap into her throat. She dropped the towels, rushing forward with a face drained of color.
"Mr. Moretti—I am so, so sorry!" Sophia stammered, grabbing Emma by the waist and lifting her down from the counter in one frantic motion. "She didn't mean... Mrs. Costa said it was alright for today because of the emergency, I swear I tried to keep her hidden—"
Dominic raised a single gloved hand, cutting off her panicked apologies.
His dark, piercing gaze shifted from Sophia’s terrified face down to Emma, who was now hiding half her body behind her mother's oversized cleaning apron, still clutching Mr. Hops.
"Mrs. Costa," Dominic said slowly, his eyes locking onto Sophia's, "informed me that an angel had taken over the back quarters. I didn't realize the angel came equipped with a stuffed rabbit."
Sophia swallowed hard. "She’s quiet, Mr. Moretti. I promise she won't touch anything. She'll sit in the corner and color—"
"She was pouring tea," Dominic interrupted, his tone completely unreadable. He stepped closer, towering over both of them. He reached out, his gloved fingers hovering for a fraction of a second before gently tapping the plastic snout of Mr. Hops. "Does the gentleman require more sugar?"
Emma peeked out from behind the apron. "He likes it bitter," she whispered confidentially.
Dominic let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a laugh if he had practiced it recently. He turned his attention back to Sophia, whose cheeks were burning red.
"Keep her out of the main corridors until after my meeting with the maritime commissioners," Dominic instructed quietly. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the floor.
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Sophia let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since dawn. But as she looked down at her daughter, a cold dread pooled in her stomach.
This house was a cage of gold and blood. And they had just invited the beast inside.
