Chapter 3 - Camilla’s Wrath
The heavy oak door to our private sanctuary burst open with a deafening crash that made me jump.
Camilla Bianchi marched into the room, her beautiful face twisted into an ugly, unrecognizable mask of pure hatred.
She had completely abandoned any pretense of elegance, her emerald silk gown swishing violently around her ankles as she stomped toward us.
“You cannot possibly keep a lowly maid and her brat in the master wing of this estate!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Lorenzo turned to face her slowly, his broad shoulders tensing as his patience clearly reached its absolute limit.
“I give the orders in this house, Camilla, and I suggest you remember your place before you speak to me again,” he warned in a low, dangerous growl.
“But the ten most powerful families in Naples are waiting for us in the grand foyer!” she argued fiercely, pointing a shaking, manicured finger directly at my face.
“You are making our entire syndicate look incredibly weak over a pathetic servant who probably set this whole thing up!”
In a flash of terrifying speed, Lorenzo crossed the vast space between them and grabbed Camilla firmly by her upper arm.
“You will never speak of this child or her mother in that disrespectful tone ever again,” he commanded, his dark eyes blazing with an unrestrained fury.
“Your father’s political alliance means absolutely nothing to me if you cannot respect my absolute authority under my own roof.”
Camilla gasped loudly, genuine tears of deep humiliation springing to her perfectly lined eyes as she struggled against his iron grip.
She realized in that very moment that her status as his future wife offered her no protection from his wrath.
“Let me go, Lorenzo, you are hurting me,” she whimpered, the fiery arrogance finally draining away from her pale face.
He released her arm immediately, stepping back as though her very presence disgusted him to his core.
“Get out of my sight right now, and do not return until you remember who truly runs this city,” Lorenzo ordered coldly.
She stumbled backward toward the open doorway, rubbing her bruised arm as she shot me a glare filled with pure, unadulterated venom.
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She fled the room in absolute disgrace, her heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor as she disappeared into the corridor.
But looking at the sheer malice in her eyes, I knew with absolute certainty that the pampered mafia princess would not let this insult go easily.
