Chapter 6 - The King in His Castle
The Moretti estate in Gold Coast was a magnificent, iron-gated stone mansion built in the 1920s, hidden behind tall ivy-covered walls and mature oak trees.
Hadley stood outside the heavy wrought-iron gate, holding the silver key in her trembling hand. Before she could insert it into the lock, the electronic gate hummed to life, swinging open automatically.
The security guards stationed at the entrance didn't stop her. They bowed their heads respectfully as she walked past, pointing her toward the massive double oak doors at the top of the stone stairs.
Inside, the mansion was vast, quiet, and dimly lit. Marble floors reflected the amber light of crystal sconces, and ancient oil paintings hung along grand corridors. It felt less like a home and more like a fortress built for a lonely king.
Hadley followed the quiet sound of rainfall echoing from the upper floor until she reached a set of heavy mahogany doors at the end of the east wing.
She pushed the door open softly.
The study was a massive room lined with thousands of leather-bound books, floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking a stormy Lake Michigan, and a roaring marble fireplace.
Len sat in a high-backed leather chair near the window.
He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his collar unbuttoned, his dark hair messy. A glass of dark amber whiskey rested untouched on the small table beside him.
He didn't turn around when the door opened.
"I told you I didn't want any dinner, Marco," Len said, his voice deep, raspy, and exhausted.
"I didn't bring dinner," Hadley said softly.
Len froze.
The glass of whiskey on the table vibrated slightly as his hand slammed down onto the leather armrest. He slowly turned his head, his storm-gray eyes widening as he saw her standing in the doorway of his study, her wet coat dripping onto his Persian rug.
For five seconds, the powerful Mafia boss looked completely speechless.
"Hadley..." he breathed, standing up from his chair. He took a single step toward her, then caught himself, stopping as if afraid that moving too close would make her disappear. "What are you doing here? It's not safe for you—"
"Shut up, Len," Hadley said, her voice shaking with an intense mix of anger, fear, and overwhelming relief.
Len shut his mouth instantly.
Hadley walked across the massive study, her heels sounding loud against the hardwood floor, stopping two feet from him. Up close, she could see dark shadows under his gray eyes—he looked like he hadn't slept a single hour since the night at The Drake.
"You ruined my life," she said, looking up at him.
"I know," Len whispered softly.
"You made me believe you were a poor taxi driver."
"I know."
"You bought a real estate company just to cancel my debt."
"He threatened you," Len said, his jaw tightening slightly. "I couldn't allow that."
"You're a terrifying, dangerous man, Lorenzo Moretti," she breathed, taking another step closer until her chest was nearly touching his broad sweater.
Len looked down at her, his storm-gray eyes burning with an intense, tragic raw vulnerability. "I am," he admitted softly. "I am everything they say I am, Hadley. I have done terrible things to protect my family. I live in a world of violence and blood. That is why I kept my distance. That is why I tried to leave you alone."
He reached out a large, scarred hand, his fingers hovering an inch from her cheek, afraid to touch her without permission.
"Inside that taxi," Len whispered, his voice cracking slightly, "I was just a man who liked your laugh. But I can't give you a normal life, Had. I can only give you a fortress."
Hadley looked at his trembling hand. She raised her own flour-dusted hand, pressing her palm against his, lacing her small fingers through his broad, scarred knuckles.
"I don't want a fortress, Len," she murmured, tears spilling over her lashes. "And I don't want a knight in shining armor. I just want the man who remembered that I like oat milk and honey."
May you like
Len let out a low, ragged breath, pulling her toward him.
His broad arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, burying his face into the crook of her neck. Hadley wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, holding him with all the strength she possessed, feeling the powerful, rapid heartbeat of the king who had surrendered his heart to a baker.
