Chapter 4 - The Golden Cage
The offer hit me like a physical blow.
“Run it?” I stammered, taking an instinctive step backward until the back of my legs hit a leather armchair. “Mr. Rossi, are you insane? I’m a retail cashier! I manage inventory sheets and handle customer complaints about frayed seams. I don’t run multi-million-dollar corporations!”
“You managed to survive in a toxic environment with your integrity intact, while corporate executives watched a child suffer,” Lorenzo replied, his voice calm, unyielding, and absolute. He set his crystal glass down on a nearby table and closed the remaining distance between us. “Corporate skills can be taught, Elena. Character cannot. And in my world, character is the only currency that matters.”
“Why?” I demanded, my voice cracking under the sheer absurdity and pressure of the moment. “Why me? You could hire top-tier Ivy League executives with decades of experience. Why pluck a cashier out of Astoria?”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened slightly, a fleeting shadow crossing his obsidian eyes as memories of his own flashed behind them.
“Because everyone with an Ivy League degree in this city has a price,” Lorenzo said quietly, his gaze piercing straight through me. “They can be bought, blackmailed, or broken. You... you stood your ground against wealthy sociopaths when you had nothing to lose. Imagine what you’ll do when you have absolute power.”
Before I could process the terrifying weight of his words, the penthouse doors chimed softly.
A small, hesitant pair of footsteps tapped against the hardwood floor. I looked past Lorenzo’s shoulder to see little Mia peeking out from behind a massive mahogany pillar. She was wearing a soft pink cashmere sweater, holding a worn-out stuffed rabbit, and looking much healthier than she had two nights ago.
When her eyes landed on me, her face lit up with a brilliant, sunshine smile.
“Elena!” Mia cried out, running across the room and throwing her small arms around my waist.
I froze in surprise, instinctively kneeling down to catch her, wrapping my arms around her tight. “Hey there, little fighter. How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Mia beamed, looking up at me with big, dark eyes that were an exact replica of her father’s. “Papa said you’re going to come live in our big house and eat pancakes with us every morning.”
My head snapped up, my gaze locking onto Lorenzo with a mixture of shock and betrayal. “Mr. Rossi—!”
“She’s perceptive, isn't she?” Lorenzo smirked, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked down at us. “The contract is already drawn up, Elena. You start Monday. Your apartment in Astoria is paid off for the next five years, and your bank account has just received a very substantial retention bonus.”
“I didn't agree to this!” I protested, standing up while keeping Mia close.
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“You didn't have to,” Lorenzo replied smoothly, his tone shifting from playful to chillingly commanding. “In my world, when an opportunity knocks, you don't close the door. Because the next time it opens, it won't be an invitation. It will be a warning.”
Little did we know, miles away across the East River, someone was watching every single move we made—someone who had lost everything when Maison Delacour fell, and who was already plotting a bloody revenge.
