Chapter 8 - The Arrangement
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The next morning, the harsh reality of her new life set in. Clare woke up in a luxurious guest suite, the plush mattress a stark contrast to her cousin’s floor.
Maya was already awake, bouncing on the edge of the bed, her eyes wide with wonder. “Mommy, this house is a castle! Are we princesses now?”
Clare managed a weak smile, stroking her daughter's hair. “Something like that, baby.”
After getting dressed, Clare sought out Gabriel. She found him in the vast, state-of-the-art kitchen, clumsily attempting to mix baby formula while holding a fussing Leo.
“Let me,” Clare said gently, stepping into the room.
Gabriel sighed, looking relieved, and handed her the bottle. Clare quickly checked the temperature on her wrist, adjusted the nipple, and offered it to the baby. Leo took it eagerly, his dark eyes—so like his father’s—locking onto her face.
“I need to set boundaries, Mr. Salvatore,” Clare said without looking up, rocking the baby smoothly.
“Gabriel,” he corrected, leaning against the marble island, watching her with intense fascination.
“Gabriel,” she conceded. “I am very grateful for what you did yesterday. But I will not be your prisoner. I will act as Leo’s nanny. I will earn my keep. But I need to know that I am free to leave when I choose.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened slightly. “You are free to do as you please, Clare. But outside these gates, your ex-husband is still looking for you. Inside, you have a small army ensuring he never breathes near you again. The choice is yours.”
It wasn't a threat; it was a brutal fact.
Over the next few weeks, Clare settled into the routine. Maya adored the massive compound, swimming in the pool and playing in the sprawling gardens under the watchful, surprisingly gentle eyes of Gabriel’s heavily armed guards.
Clare bonded deeply with little Leo. He was a sweet, observant baby who thrived under her constant care.
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But it was Gabriel who confused her the most. He was terrifyingly cold when dealing with his lieutenants, speaking in hushed, lethal tones about shipments and territories. Yet, when he stepped into the nursery, the mafia don vanished. He was careful, almost fragile, around Clare. He never raised his voice, never demanded her time, and looked at her with a quiet, burning reverence that made her heart race.
She was living with a king, and she was slowly, dangerously, beginning to trust him.
