Chapter 5: Vanessa

"You did what?"

My voice cracked as I stared at Marcus across our small kitchen table, my phone still clutched in my trembling hand. The voicemail I'd just listened to played on repeat in my head: *"Miss Rodriguez, this is Catherine from De Luca Industries. We're pleased to inform you that your interview for the nanny position has been scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM."*

Marcus didn't look up from his coffee. "I applied for a job for you. A better job."

"You applied for a job for me?" I stood so fast that my chair scraped against the floor. "Without asking me? Without even telling me?"

"Vanessa—"

"And not just any job—a nanny position? Marcus, I love working at the daycare. Those children need me, and I need them. You can't just—"

"You handed in your resignation this morning."

The words hit me like a physical slap. "I did what?"

"I called in sick for you and submitted your two weeks' notice. Effective immediately." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather instead of dismantling my entire life.

"You had no right!" My hands were shaking now, with anger and disbelief and something that felt dangerously close to betrayal. "Those are my students, my job, my choice!"

Finally, he looked up. His blue eyes were cold, distant nothing like the warm, loving man who'd held me just yesterday morning. "Not anymore."

"What is wrong with you?" I backed away from the table, my heart pounding. "First the mysterious conversations, then the cryptic warnings, and now you're making decisions about my life without consulting me?"

"I'm protecting you."

"From what? By isolating me from everything I care about?"

Marcus stood, his jaw clenched. "From things you don't understand. Things you're better off not knowing."

"Stop treating me like a child!" The words tore from my throat. "If we're in some kind of danger, I have a right to know. If you're involved in something—"

"No." His voice cut through mine like a blade. "You don't ask questions. You don't dig. You go to this interview tomorrow, you take the job, and you trust me to handle the rest."

I stared at him, this stranger wearing my boyfriend's face. "And if I refuse?"

Something flickered across his expression—fear, maybe, or desperation. "You won't."

"Watch me."

I turned toward the bedroom, but his voice stopped me cold.

"The De Luca family takes care of their employees, Vanessa. Takes care of them. Security, benefits, protection. The kind of protection someone in your position might need."

My blood turned to ice. "What does that mean?"

"It means you go to the interview tomorrow." He was back to that eerily calm tone. "You take the job. And you don't ask questions."

The threat hung in the air between us, unspoken but crystal clear. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to demand answers that I knew he wouldn't give.

Instead, I walked to the bedroom and closed the door with deliberate calm.

Because what choice did I have?

---

The De Luca penthouse was like stepping into another world.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, while marble floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than I made in a year. Everything was pristine, elegant, and cold—the kind of perfection that felt more like a museum than a home.

"Miss Rodriguez?" An elderly woman with kind eyes and graying hair approached me. "I'm Mrs. Ciro, the housekeeper. Mr. De Luca is waiting in his office."

My heels clicked against the marble as I followed her down a hallway lined with expensive artwork. My stomach churned with nerves and the lingering anger from yesterday's confrontation with Marcus.

He'd been gone when I woke up this morning, leaving only a note: *Good luck today. Remember what I said.*

As if I could forget.

Mrs. Ciro knocked on a heavy wooden door, then stepped aside. "He's expecting you."

The office was intimidating—all dark wood and leather, with bookshelves that reached the ceiling and a massive desk that screamed power and authority. Behind it sat a man who looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a magazine.

Alessandro De Luca was beautiful in the most dangerous way possible.

Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes so green they seemed to see straight through to your soul. He was younger than I'd expected, maybe early thirties, but there was something ancient in his gaze. Something that spoke of secrets and shadows and things that would haunt your dreams.

"Miss Rodriguez." He stood, extending a hand. "Please, sit."

His grip was firm, warm, and sent an unexpected jolt through my system. "Thank you for seeing me, Mr. De Luca."

"The pleasure is mine." He settled back into his chair, those piercing eyes studying me with unsettling intensity. "Tell me about your experience with children."

For the next thirty minutes, we talked about my work at the daycare, my education, and my approach to childcare. Normal interview questions that should have put me at ease.

But there was nothing normal about Alessandro De Luca.

He listened with the kind of focus that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Asked follow-up questions that showed he was actually paying attention. And underneath it all, there was an energy a magnetism that made it hard to concentrate on anything except the way his lips moved when he spoke.

"Would you like to meet Aria?" he asked finally.