Chapter 8 - Waking Up in Velvet
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Amelia woke up to the smell of lavender and the soft, rhythmic beeping of a medical monitor.
She kept her eyes closed for a moment, her brain desperately trying to piece together the shattered fragments of the previous day. The diner. The spilled coffee. Derek’s fist. The terrifying arrival of Vincent Castellano.
She expected the harsh fluorescent lights of a Brooklyn emergency room. But when she finally forced her eyes open, she was surrounded by deep, rich velvet.
She was lying in a massive, four-poster bed draped in heavy navy curtains. The room was expansive, featuring dark mahogany furniture, Persian rugs, and a roaring fire in a stone hearth. She was wearing a soft, expensive silk nightgown that certainly didn't belong to her.
“Don't try to sit up too quickly,” a calm voice advised.
Amelia turned her head, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through her left cheekbone. A man in a white medical coat was sitting in a leather armchair near the window, reviewing a chart.
“Where am I?” Amelia croaked, her throat bone-dry.
“You are at the Castellano estate in Long Island,” the doctor replied, standing up and walking over to the bed with a glass of ice water. “I am Dr. Rossi, the family’s private physician. You have a mild concussion, a severe contusion on your cheek, and three bruised ribs from the fall. But you will recover.”
Amelia took the water with a trembling hand, taking a slow sip. “Why am I here? I need to go back to my apartment. My rent is due—”
“Your rent has been paid for the next six months,” a deep baritone voice interrupted from the doorway.
Vincent Castellano stepped into the bedroom. He had traded his tailored suit for a simple black cashmere sweater and dark slacks, but he still looked every inch the formidable mafia boss.
Dr. Rossi immediately closed his chart, bowed his head slightly, and quietly exited the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
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Vincent walked over to the edge of the bed. He looked down at her battered face, a muscle ticking furiously in his jaw, betraying the immense anger he was keeping tightly leashed.
“How are you feeling, Amelia?” he asked quietly.
