7. Six
Six
Sienna
T ime seems to slip away as I sit mesmerized by the view outside the window, soaking in the stunning beauty of the garden that surrounds the house. The lush greenery stretches out like a vibrant tapestry, with flowers blooming in every conceivable color—from pure whites to soft pinks to deep reds. A gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of the towering trees, their branches swaying softly in the wind. When the sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon, it casts a warm, golden glow over the entire scene. That’s when I realize, with a start, that I must have been sitting here for hours, completely lost in the tranquil beauty of the garden, adrift in my own thoughts.
The sound of the door unlocking and creaking open breaks the spell. I turn to see it slightly ajar, but there’s no one there. It’s clear I’m expected to make my way downstairs to join Fabrizio and his children for dinner, just as he mentioned this morning.
A touch of apprehension settles in my stomach as I rise from my seat and step into the hallway, enveloped in an almost palpable silence. The house is surprisingly quiet, considering it’s inhabited by two young children and a group of Fabrizio’s… soldiers, or whatever they call themselves. The atmosphere is thick with an air of anticipation, and I can’t help but feel a sense of trepidation as I make my way down to the main floor. I see no one around as I descend the stairs, and it isn’t until I reach the bottom that I hear giggles coming from the kitchen.
A soft gasp escapes my lips as I round the corner and am met with a scene that takes me completely by surprise. Fabrizio, having swapped his dark suit for a pair of faded jeans and a snug t-shirt, stands at the stove, spoon in hand, seasoning what smells like homemade pasta sauce. The rich aroma of garlic and basil wafts through the air, and my stomach growls in response. I suddenly realize just how hungry I am. Flynn is perched on the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on his father’s every move as he helps with the cooking. Maddy sits on the floor, clutching a doll and singing a little tune to herself, her face alight with joy. A smile spreads across Fabrizio’s face as he glances down at his son, his previously hard features softened.
I am completely entranced by the heartwarming scene that unfolds before me. The man standing there bears little resemblance to the cold, calculating criminal who took me captive and demanded I was his possession only mere hours ago. In this very moment, Fabrizio appears to be just an average, loving father, completely devoted to his children. I find myself unable to tear my gaze away from him, my heart aching with a strange sense of longing.
“Daddy, Ms. Walsh is here,” Flynn calls out, his voice breaking the spell that has been cast over me.
Maddy’s face lights up with excitement as she scrambles to her feet, rushing towards me with outstretched arms. “Ms. Walsh!” she squeals, throwing herself into my embrace. I scoop her up, and she giggles.
By the lack of surprise coming from both children, I assume their father had already told them about my new…job.
Fabrizio turns to face us, his eyes locking onto mine with a heated gaze, and I can feel my cheeks flushing under his intense scrutiny. I put his daughter back on her feet. “Daddy, can I show Ms. Walsh my room?” Maddy asks, looking up at her father with pleading eyes. Fabrizio’s gaze never leaves mine as he gives a curt nod.
“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. You can show Ms. Walsh your room in the meantime,” he tells his daughter, his voice low and relaxed, with even a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Come on,” Maddy squeals, taking my hand and pulling me towards the stairs. I follow her, her eager chatter involuntary bringing an honest smile to my face.
As we reach the top of the stairs, Maddy points to what must be her room. My jaw drops as I step inside what can only be described as every little girl’s dream. The room is enormous, with more than enough space to accommodate a large, four-poster bed, a massive closet, and a sprawling play area. My small apartment could fit inside this room easily. The walls are painted a soft shade of pink, and the floor is covered in a thick, plush carpet. The bed is draped in a beautiful lace canopy and covered in a mountain of stuffed animals and colorful pillows.
“Do you like it?” Maddy asks, looking up at me with shining eyes.
“Absolutely,” I tell her. “It’s beautiful.” She giggles and throws herself onto the bed, and I watch as she tosses and turns, her laughter and squeals of delight filling the air. She is such a happy, carefree child, and I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness as I think about the reality of the life that she leads.
I take the opportunity to look around her room. A large wooden desk sits in the corner, covered in papers, crayons, and markers. The little girl clearly has a passion for art, and I can see the potential for real talent in her future. I can almost imagine her as a grown woman, a famous artist with a studio full of paintings. One wall is lined with a massive bookshelf, filled to the brim with colorful books and serving as a display case for Maddy’s extensive collection of dolls.
My eyes land on the single frame sitting in the middle of the shelf. I reach out and pick it up, taking in the image of a woman smiling back at me. The picture must have been taken on a sunny day, her blond hair shimmering in the light like gold. Her warm eyes sparkle with happiness; it’s the same twinkle that sparks in Maddy’s gaze when she’s happy. I feel a pang in my chest as I realize this must be the children’s mother.
“That’s my mommy,” Maddy tells me on cue, her small voice filled with the tiniest hint of sadness. “She’s in heaven. Daddy says because she’s his angel.”
My heart goes out to the little girl, and I feel a lump form in my throat.
I’ve never heard her or her brother talk about their mother. In fact, the only thing I’ve ever heard about Alexandra Moretti is that she’s dead.
For a moment, I even feel a sense of pity for Fabrizio, raising his children on his own after the loss of their mother. But as I look back at the picture, I can’t help but wonder how a woman with such a warm and kind aura ended up with a man like him.
I clear my throat, trying to push aside the melancholy thoughts. “And what about Flynn’s room?” I ask. Maddy points to the wall, indicating that her brother’s room is right beside hers.
“But it’s not as nice as mine,” she tells me, a hint of smugness in her voice. “It’s full of cars and not a bit of pink.”
I chuckle at her exasperation. “Well, I’m sure it’s perfect for him,” I tell her. “Come on now, let’s go eat. I’m sure dinner’s ready by now, and I’m starving.” Maddy pouts but takes my hand and follows me towards the stairs.
The pasta that Fabrizio has prepared tastes absolutely delicious. The table is filled with the constant chatter and laughter of the children, and I find myself smiling and joining in on the fun. It is easy to forget about the circumstances that have brought me here, and for a moment, I feel like I am just a part of a normal family. Even Flynn cracks a smile—a rare sight that warms my heart.
“Can we watch cartoons, Dad?” he asks, looking up at his father with hopeful eyes.
Fabrizio tilts his head to the side, a mock-thoughtful expression on his face. “Okay, half an hour, and then it’s time for bed,” he tells his son, reaching out to ruffle his hair. The children bolt from the room, leaving silence in their wake.
Suddenly, I’m alone with Fabrizio again. My mind races as I struggle to come up with something, anything, to say or do. To distract myself, I start gathering up the empty plates scattered across the table.
“There is no need for you to do that,” Fabrizio says, leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed intently on me as I load the plates into the dishwasher.
“Oh, I don’t mind. You already did the cooking,” I reply, flashing him a smile as I feel a moment of unexpected naturalness pass between us. “It was delicious, by the way, thank you.” He shrugs off my compliment, but his gaze never wavers from mine.
“I will put the children to bed, and then the two of us will have a drink,” he tells me, his tone leaving no room for debate. It’s not an offer but a statement of fact.
Still, I nod my agreement, feeling a flutter in my chest at his words. “I can do that if you want me to,” I offer, as I figured it would be a part of my duties anyway, but he shakes his head.
“I prefer to do it myself the few nights I have the time,” he tells me, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that makes me wonder what he’s like as a father. “But you are welcome to join us if you like.” His gaze holds mine for a moment, and the flutter in my chest intensifies.
There’s a spark in his gaze, a shimmer that crackles with electricity. It’s as if the air between us hums with tension, and for one heart-pounding moment, I’m convinced he’s going to bridge the distance between us and kiss me.
Instead, he takes two large steps to stand right before me, his features hardening again, and his voice now devoid of any softness. “Just one thing, Sienna ,” he says, his voice low and serious. “I want to remind you of the importance of keeping our agreement in mind at all times.”
I meet his gaze and nod my understanding, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the sudden coldness in his demeanor. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior in front of the children,” I assure him.
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes boring into mine. “Good,” he tells me, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll tuck the children in, and then we’ll have a drink,” he repeats his earlier words before turning and exiting the kitchen, leaving me feeling more than just a little confused.
Fabrizio Moretti is a paradox. A riddle I am not sure is even possible to solve.
One moment, he’s a doting father, radiating warmth and adoration for his children. The next, he turns ruthless and uncaring, his eyes glacial and hard as stone.
My mind whirls with the contradictions of this man and the confusing mix of emotions he stirs up in me. And through them all, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of longing to know if there is something more beneath the surface—a desire to get to know if there is a glimmer of decency hidden behind the brutal facade; a burning curiosity to peel back his layers and uncover what’s lying underneath.
Time seems to warp and bend as I remain frozen in the middle of the kitchen for what could be mere seconds or endless minutes.
When I finally move, it’s as if my feet have a mind of their own, drawn irresistibly towards the stairs and Fabrizio’s invitation to help put the children to bed. I tell myself it’s to learn their routine, but deep down, I know it’s more than that. I want to glimpse that tender side of Fabrizio, the one he only shows his children—the side I saw once and yearn to see again, convincing myself it wasn’t just my imagination.
As soon as I step into the hallway on the upper floor, a giggle echoes through the air—a rare and precious sound.
Leaning against the door frame of Flynn’s room, I observe the intimate scene unfold before me, feeling like an outsider peeking into a world that’s not my own. Fabrizio sits on the bed, his large frame dwarfing the tiny boy wriggling beneath his tickling fingers. Flynn’s eyes sparkle with delight, his face flushed with happiness.
“Stop that, Dad,” he gasps between giggles, squirming away from his father’s playful assault. Fabrizio halts his attack, a content smile softening his features.
“But only because it’s time for you to sleep now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?”
The little boy shakes his head, his chin jutting out in determination. “No, I’m a big boy already. I don’t need bedtime stories anymore.” He yanks his blanket up to his chin and rolls onto his side, presenting his back to his father. “Good night, Dad.”
Fabrizio’s expression turns solemn. He sighs and presses a gentle kiss to his son’s head. “Good night, piccolo ,” he tells him as he slowly gets to his feet, lingering for another moment before turning to leave the room.
When his gaze meets mine, it’s once more an unreadable mask. He doesn’t even acknowledge me as he simply walks past me and disappears into Maddy’s room with long strides.
Once again, I follow, lingering in the doorway, watching as the little girl’s face lights up with a radiant smile.
“Daddy.” She sits up in the huge bed, looking like a little princess amidst a sea of plush toys and pillows. The bed is so large that she seems almost lost in it, a tiny island in a fluffy ocean. Her father’s frame seems to fill the spacious room as he approaches her bedside. I remain standing in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on their special moment. Judging by how Fabrizio insisted on putting the twins to bed himself, I gather that this doesn’t happen too often.
“Ms. Walsh, sit with us,” Maddy tells me, looking over at me with shining eyes, her voice full of excitement. “Daddy is going to read me my favorite story.”
My gaze flicks to her father, and he gives a subtle nod of approval. I take a seat on the edge of the bed opposite him, feeling slightly out of place. But Maddy’s smile puts me at ease, drawing me into her little happy bubble.
“And what is your favorite story, amore ?” he asks, his voice dripping with affection. The Italian endearment rolls off his tongue, a gentle caress.
“Beauty and the Beast,” she replies, snuggling back into her pillows and blankets.
A wry smile twists my lips. How fitting. The tale of a young maiden trapped in a beast’s castle is a stark reminder of my current situation. But I manage to stifle my bitter chuckle, not wanting to ruin the magic of the moment because of the irony.
“That’s a beautiful story.” I smile down at her.
Her father clears his throat as he grabs the worn book from the nightstand. The cover is faded, the pages dog-eared from countless readings. He begins to read in a hushed tone, his voice like a gentle lullaby. Maddy’s eyelids begin to droop. A few more sentences and she’s asleep, a tiny puff of breath escaping her lips as she drifts into a land of dreams. It’s a shame, really, because I could listen to the sound of his deep baritone for hours and let myself get lost in the vibrations of his voice.
But Fabrizio gently places the book on the nightstand, his gaze lingering on his sleeping child for a moment before he rises.
He doesn’t spare me a glance as he moves to leave the room, halting for the briefest moment as his eyes focus on the frame on her bookshelf. I wonder if I’d see a flash of sadness in his gaze if I could see his face right now. Wordlessly, he slips from the room, leaving me with his sleeping daughter.
“Good night, princess,” I whisper to Maddy, my voice barely audible over the sound of her steady breathing. I gently smooth a strand of hair out of her face, feeling a pang of tenderness for the innocent girl sleeping before me. After one last look at her peaceful features, I tear myself away, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
But when I turn around to make my way back downstairs, I’m startled to find myself nearly colliding with Fabrizio. He appears out of nowhere, his tall frame looming over me as he plants both of his hands on the doorframe on either side of me, caging me in between the hard wood of the door and the even harder wall of his chest.
A surprised “Huh” escapes my lips as I crane my neck to meet his gaze, my heart leaping into my throat.
His eyes burn into mine, smoldering with an intensity that makes every inch of my skin prickle with anticipation. I feel his gaze like a physical touch, as if he’s tracing my features with a blazing finger. Just like in the kitchen earlier, for the briefest of moments, I find myself convinced that he’s on the verge of kissing me, his lips a tilt of his head away from mine. My pulse pounds in my ears, my breath catching in my chest. I can no longer distinguish if the tremble running through me is from longing or fear. Perhaps it’s a little of both.
But just as before, he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he simply regards me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he pushes off from the doorframe and strides away, leaving me feeling bereft and bewildered. My pulse is still racing as I follow him downstairs and into the kitchen, my senses heightened in his wake.
I find him standing by the counter, pouring two glasses of deep red wine. He pushes one in my direction, his eyes never leaving mine as he does so. I take a big gulp, the sweet, slightly acidic taste exploding on my tongue. “Do you like it?” he asks, his voice low and smooth like the liquid in my glass.
I only nod in reply.
“There are a few more bottles downstairs,” he continues, his gaze never wavering. “Feel free to indulge yourself.”
“Thank you,” I reply and take another sip of the wine, feeling the alcohol slowly but steadily calm my frayed nerves.
Silence stretches between us as I continue sipping my wine. Fabrizio sways his glass in his hand. The dim light of the dining room catches the sharp angles of his face, making his gaze feel even more intense. I feel the need to say something; the thick muteness between us feels oppressing, making my skin prickle with unease.
“The children’s mother… what happened to her?” I venture, my voice barely above a whisper. A shadow passes Fabrizio’s face; I can’t say if it’s sadness or fury or a mixture of both. He grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “I was just wondering because there are no pictures… I mean… the children should know…” I trail off, realizing I may have overstepped.
In an instant, he closes the distance between us, standing in front of me, gripping my chin and tilting my head upward to force me to look into his face. His touch is like a brand, hot and unyielding.
“You are in no position to tell me what my children need or don’t need,” he hisses. “The topic of my wife is off-limits, especially with the twins.” His voice is a low growl, the words dripping with venom. He presses his fingers deeper into my flesh. “Do you understand?”
“Y-Yes.” The word is a mere squeak.
Fabrizio lets go of me, and I release a breath I realize I was holding. He moves away, turning his back to me.
“You can retreat to your room now.” The dismissal is cold, final, shocking. I feel a sting at his words, at the abrupt change in his demeanor. Being sent off to my room like a disobedient little child is something I am not used to, but then again, nothing about my current situation is normal.
I empty my glass of wine, placing it back on the counter with more force than needed, before turning around and storming back to my room. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I lean against it, trying to catch my breath. My heart is racing, my mind whirling with the encounter.
What the fuck just happened?
I stand there for a few minutes until my erratic heartbeat and my boiling temper calm down before I change into my pajamas and get into bed. I don’t expect to find sleep any time soon, as the weight of my current situation is weighing too heavily on me. As soon as I close my eyes, ready to give in to the darkness and the silence of the night, I hear a strange noise.
What was that?
Sitting up in bed, it takes me a few moments to realize that the noises I hear are coming from the room next to mine.
Maddy.