Chapter 7 - Entering the Lion's DenThe iron gates of the Moretti estate loomed like the jaws of a beast against the midnight sky. Clara stared out the window of the armored Mercedes Maybach, watching the sprawling gothic mansion grow closer.
Rico sat silently in the opposite seat, nursing a glass of scotch while Leo slept peacefully across Clara’s lap, his thumb jammed securely in his mouth.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm playing house with you," Clara muttered, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the boy.
"It's not playing house, Clara. It's survival," Rico replied without looking at her. "Vincent has already noticed Dante's radio silence. By tomorrow morning, they'll make a move. If you're hiding in a studio apartment in Brooklyn, you'll be a footnote in the police blotter before noon."
"And here? I'm trapped in a gilded cage with a mafia boss," she shot back.
"Here, you have an army guarding your door," Rico countered, turning his piercing gaze toward her. "And more importantly... Leo hasn't slept a full night in six months. Tonight, he's breathing easy for the first time because you're holding him. Are you really going to walk away from him just to prove a point?"
Clara looked down at the small boy. His eyelashes fluttered in a dream, his tiny hand still hooked into her sleeve. She swallowed hard, knowing Rico had hit her where she was weakest. She couldn't leave Leo. Not now. Not ever.
The car glided to a stop under the grand stone portico. Armed guards in tailored black suits stood at attention, bowing slightly as Rico stepped out of the vehicle.
Rico opened the door for Clara, offering a gloved hand. She ignored it, stepping out on her own with Leo in her arms.
"Welcome to your new home, Clara," Rico said smoothly, a faint, dark smirk touching the corners of his lips. "Let's see how long you survive the family."
As they walked through the massive double oak doors into the grand foyer, a man stepped out from the shadows of the staircase—Vincent, the consiglieri, wearing a warm, deceptive smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.
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"Boss," Vincent said smoothly, his eyes darting briefly to Clara and the sleeping boy. "I heard there was a disturbance at Il Destino. Is everything under control?"
Rico stopped dead in his tracks, his hand resting casually on Clara’s shoulder. "Everything is handled, Vincent. Absolutely under control."
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