Chapter 4: The Contract

"How do you know my last name?" Sofia narrowed her eyes at the imposing figure before her, suspicion slicing through her voice.

Vincenzo didn't flinch. "That doesn't matter," he said coolly, voice dipped in authority. "What matters is this—you either pay your debt… or you'll never see your mother again. I suggest you cooperate and cut the drama."

Her heart dropped. "Let's say I do cooperate—" she began slowly, trying to buy time, "—I don't have that kind of money. Not right now. But if you let me go, I could—"

"Not a chance." The cold finality in his voice slammed the door on any further hope. He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, each one echoing like a countdown, cornering her back into the room.

"You'll stay here until I decide otherwise. We'll come to an agreement about the debt, but for now, your only job is to stay put, you will not leave this room until i say so." He commanded sending chills down her spine.

He turned to Alessandro, who stood silently in the hallway like a shadow. "Make sure she eats. Get her into something more comfortable. Treat her well," Vincenzo said, but the steel in his tone left no room for disobedience. Then he turned to Sofia, locking eyes with her like he could see straight through to her soul.

"Welcome to my home, mia cara."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her drowning in a whirlpool of thoughts.

What the hell did "come to an agreement" mean? Was he just another sleazy boss looking to sleep with her? Was there something more to what he said? Why couldn't men keep their pants zipped?

"At least if I'm going to get screwed," she muttered bitterly, "might as well be in a mansion instead of on some dingy office desk."

She sat on the edge of the bed, thoughts spiraling from her lost job to her hospitalized mother. Going back? That was a fantasy. Starting over felt like climbing a cliff with no ropes. Maybe… maybe she'd see how this played out. Just for now.

Hunger won over caution as she approached the tray. The aroma was impossible to ignore. One bite turned into another, and soon the meal had vanished. Her stomach thanked her. Her pride didn't.

The room itself was the size of her entire apartment. Luxurious, elegant. The bathroom alone looked like a five-star spa. She ran herself a hot bath, easing into the steaming water with a reluctant moan. For the first time in forever, she felt something close to… luxury.

On the bed, a silk nightgown lay perfectly folded. She slipped it on, sighing. Maybe—just maybe—this wasn't going to be the worst experience of her life.

---

Seven Days Later...

Sofia had not stepped out of that room once. No phone. No laptop. No Netflix. Just her, her thoughts, and the occasional meal delivered by silent staff. Time dragged its heels like a stubborn mule. Cabin fever was creeping in fast.

Just when she thought she'd lose her mind, the door clicked open.

Vincenzo entered like a storm in a custom-tailored suit—expensive cologne preceding him, hair immaculately styled, radiating an aura colder than marble.

"I've been locked in here for a week. What's going on?" she demanded, voice sharp with frustration.

He didn't flinch. He simply sat opposite her, crossing one leg over the other with maddening calm.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said, voice like silk covering a knife. "My daughter is being discharged from the hospital tomorrow. Her nanny is on maternity leave. You, with your experience in medicine, will be taking care of her and yes off course, you will be compensated."

Sofia blinked. "Wait—daughter? You have a daughter?"

"Yes. She's my patatina," he said, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes for a split second.

Sofia squinted. "How sweet. So what does your little potato think about her dad being a kidnapper?"

His face hardened instantly.

"I'm guessing she won't be finding out," she said quickly. "And I'm being paid?"

"Five hundred dollars. Monthly."

Her brain did the math. That was more than all her jobs combined. Five months of this could wipe out her debts.

"Okay. That's... surprisingly fair," she muttered.

He handed her a contract. She skimmed it.

"Three rules?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"One," he said, raising a finger, "don't speak to me unless spoken to. Two: under no circumstance do you scold my daughter. Three: stay away from the West Wing."

Sofia looked up sharply. "What's in the West Wing?"

"If I wanted you to know, I wouldn't be keeping you out of it, would i?" he said simply.

"Fair enough." She signed.

"Alessandro will take you to your new room and brief you," Vincenzo said, heading toward the door. Just before leaving, he turned back. "Don't mess this up, Fiore."

The sound of her name from his mouth sent a weird shiver down her spine.

---

Her new room was... breathtaking. A crystal chandelier sparkled overhead, golden accents lining the walls. A wardrobe full of designer clothes. A vanity that looked stolen from a queen's palace. She barely caught a glance of the door across the hallway.

"Whose room is that?" she asked.

Alessandro simply said, "A certain someone."

She got a tour of the estate—and it was borderline ridiculous. Library the size of a bookstore, indoor pool, wine cellar, tennis court, gym, a freakin' jacuzzi. Vincenzo was definitely wiping his ass with hundred-dollar bills.

"These are the nanny's notes," Alessandro said, handing her a thick folder labeled Patroncina—'Little Lady of the House.'

Sofia flipped through it. "She's diabetic?"

"Type 1," Alessandro confirmed. "She'll be home tomorrow. You'll get to know her."

Left alone again, Sofia sat on her bed, overwhelmed but contented with the fact Vincenzo wasn't after her body after all.

It was Saturday. The day Hazel was finally coming home.

The mansion buzzed with quiet energy—every corner cleaned, every staff member in their place like chess pieces before a big move. It was evident she wasn't just the Boss's daughter. She was royalty in this house.

Then the gates opened. A sleek black SUV glided to a stop on the gravel driveway. Out stepped a little girl with a bounce in her step and a smile that could melt glaciers. She carried sunshine like it was stitched into her skin.

"Alessandro!" she squealed, barreling straight toward the older man.

"I've missed you!" she grinned. "Your zucchini noodles with marinara—I dreamed about them!"

Alessandro chuckled warmly. "I missed you too, patroncina."

Vincenzo stepped forward. "Patatina, this is your new nanny," he said, nodding toward Sofia.

As their eyes met, something clicked.

"Sofia!" the girl cried, instantly launching herself into her arms.

Sofia froze. That voice. That face. The same little girl from the hospital. Hazel—the child with early-stage Type 1 diabetes, the one she cared for like her own before being unjustly fired. What were the odds?

Hazel beamed. "They told me you were gone. I thought you left without saying goodbye. But I knew you'd come back. You promised, remember?"

Sofia glanced at Vincenzo, who now had a furrowed brow and a warning glint in his eyes, clearly as surprised as she was.

"Yes, Gummy Bear," she said slowly. "I came back. Just like I said I would. Thanks to your dad…" she added, shooting Vincenzo a meaningful glare.

"Yay! Thanks, Daddy! This is amazing!" Hazel squealed, grabbing Sofia's hand. "Come on, I want to show you my room!"

"Slow down, Gummy dear," Sofia laughed, letting herself be pulled toward the grand spiral staircase, her heels clicking against the marble.

Vincenzo stood behind, watching. Hazel wasn't like this with anyone. Ever. Since her mother's death, she barely smiled. Not even with him. But here she was, practically glowing around Sofia.

Maybe… maybe there was more to this woman than he realized.

°°°°°°°

That evening, dinner was set like a royal banquet.

Only family and trusted guests dined at the long mahogany table. The chef had prepared a personalized spread—steamed vegetables, grilled salmon, fresh fruit, warm bread rolls. It looked like something out of a Michelin kitchen.

Vincenzo sat at the head of the table. Hazel beside him. The silence was thick.

"So," he cleared his throat. "How was the hospital, was it fun?"

Hazel scrunched her nose. "It's a place full of sick people, Dad. Hospitals aren't fun."

He blinked. "Fair point," he said, chuckling awkwardly. Sometimes he forgot she was only eight—other times, it felt like she was eighty.

A pause.

"Dad," she said sweetly, "can Sofia join us at the table?"

Vincenzo hesitated. "I'm not sure, patatina…"

"Pleeeaase?" She gave him that look. The one that weaponized her cuteness.

He sighed in defeat. "Of course. Send for Sofia."

As soon as the butler turned, Vincenzo mumbled under his breath, "Shit."

---

Sofia had just finished combing her hair when the knock came.

"Matteo," she said, surprised to see the man she once accidentally tripped at her attempt to escape. He was friendlier now, or at least less icy.

"Miss Sofia, you've been requested at the main dining table."

"Since when?" she raised a brow.

"The boss's orders."

Sofia smirked. "Right. Can't say no to the man who signs the checks… or owns the house." She said bluntly.

She entered the dining hall, every eye drawn to her. Vincenzo was already watching—expression unreadable, jaw tight. She could only wonder what went through that mind of his.

"Sofia!" Hazel cheered. "Dad thought it would be lovely for you to eat with us from now on!"

"I did?" Vincenzo blinked.

"Yes, Daddy. You said it, remember? " she said, too innocent to be real.

"I... I did. Right." He cleared his throat. "It'll be... nice." He definitely didn't say forever!

Sofia gave him a side glance. "Thanks. I guess."

She took her seat, surprised when the chef placed a beautifully plated meal in front of her—salmon, black beans, cilantro lime rice, pico de gallo, and a side of strawberries.

She began to eat quietly.

"Sofia?" Hazel whispered, breaking the silence.

"Yes, Gummy Bear?" Sofia leaned toward her.

"Can I have some strawberries?"

Sofia hesitated. "You know you can't. They're high in sugar."

"Just one?" Hazel pouted.

Sofia sighed, then smiled. "Alright, just one." She moved her plate closer. "I guess a single strawberry won't hurt."

Hazel grinned and popped it into her mouth with pure delight. "Thanks!"

Vincenzo watched them both. Something tugged at him, quietly painful. Why couldn't he make his daughter smile like that anymore?

Dinner ended with Hazel fighting sleep, head bobbing as she tried to stay awake.

"Alright, time for bed, princess," Sofia said, standing to help her.

"Nooo, one more game," Hazel mumbled, halfway asleep.

"Let me," Vincenzo said softly, lifting his daughter in his arms.

She snuggled into his chest. "Your beard is soft, Daddy."

He smiled faintly. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Sofia chuckled as they walked off.

She returned to her room, settling onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. The day had been… overwhelming.

The girl was sweet. Smart. Full of life.

And Vincenzo, well… she was still trying to understand him.

Her thoughts circled back to Hazel again. The father was present. Protective. Wealthy beyond reason.

But the mother?

No photos. No mentions. Just silence. No one talks about her.

Sofia's fingers toyed with the hem of her nightgown as the question lingered like a whisper in the dark.

Where was the mother? Who was she?