Chapter 5 - The Proposition
At precisely twelve o’clock, Sophia knocked twice on the heavy wooden doors of Lorenzo’s study.
“Enter.”
She pushed the door open. Lorenzo was sitting behind his mahogany desk, signing documents with a heavy gold fountain pen. He looked up as she approached, his face unreadable.
“Sit down, Sophia.”
She sat in the leather chair opposite him, keeping her hands folded neatly in her lap. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Moretti.”
Lorenzo capped his pen with a sharp click and leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests.
“You broke into my secret room. You broke my security protocols. You barged into an international conference uninvited,” Lorenzo recited, ticking off her offenses as if reading from a legal brief.
“I know,” Sophia said quietly. “I’m ready to accept my termination. Just... please let me pick up my things and give me until tomorrow to find a place to stay.”
Lorenzo stared at her for a long moment, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corner of his mouth.
“Termination? Who said anything about firing you?”
Sophia blinked. “You... you’re not firing me?”
“No.”
“Then... what is this?”
Lorenzo stood up, walked around the desk, and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“My house is a fortress, Sophia. It is designed to keep enemies out, rivals away, and secrets buried. But it has one fatal flaw.”
Sophia looked up at him, bewildered. “What flaw?”
“It’s empty,” Lorenzo said, his voice dropping into a harsh, vulnerable honesty he rarely revealed to anyone. “It’s a tomb filled with expensive furniture and armed men. My son... my wife... they died because I couldn't protect them from the shadows I invited into my life. And ever since, I’ve surrounded myself with dead things.”
Sophia held her breath, realizing she was hearing words he had probably never spoken to another living soul.
“Emma walked into this study three days ago,” Lorenzo continued, his eyes locking onto hers. “She didn't care about my money. She didn't care about my reputation. She just wanted someone to brush her hair.”
He pushed off the desk and walked toward the window, looking out over the grey courtyard.
“I’m offering you a new position, Sophia. Not as a maid. As a governess. Your sole responsibility will be looking after Emma, ensuring she has proper care, education, and safety within these walls. Your salary will triple. Your housing will be upgraded to the family wing on the second floor. And you will have full access to my medical staff.”
Sophia stared at him in utter shock. “A governess? In the family wing?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “Why me? You could hire professionals from the best agencies in New York or London. Women with degrees in child development.”
Lorenzo turned back to face her, his expression sharpening into that cold, commanding authority.
“Because professionals lie. They tell me what I want to hear. They treat me like a monster hiding behind a desk,” Lorenzo said. “You walked into my office demanding protection for your child without a shred of fear for your own life. That is the kind of loyalty you cannot buy from an agency.”
Sophia’s mind raced. Moving to the family wing meant getting closer to his world—the guns, the secrets, the dangerous men who walked the halls at midnight. It meant stepping deeper into the lion’s den.
Yet, looking at the safety it would provide Emma—the medical care, the food, the education she deserved—she knew she didn't have a choice.
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“I accept,” Sophia said clearly.
Lorenzo nodded once, a sharp, decisive motion. “Effective immediately. Marcus will help you move your things this afternoon.”
