Chapter 46 The Sontoro Estate
JEREMY
I lay on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling.
I could hear Amelia moving around in the other room. Getting ready for bed. Settling in.
So close. She was only a few feet away from me.
Tomorrow she'd be at the estate. She would be in my wing. In a room down the hall from mine.
Even closer.
It was strategic. Practical. It was the correct action to ensure her safety.
But it was also dangerous.
Every day, I would see her. Every day I'd be reminded of how much space she'd started taking up in my thoughts.
Every day I'd have to maintain distance while wanting—
What was I wanting?
I didn't know.
I didn't want to examine my feelings too closely.
Because once I put a name to this feeling, once I acknowledged what it actually was—
Everything would change.
And I wasn't ready for that.
I wasn't ready to admit that Victoria was correct. That I was falling for someone who complicated everything. I had already fallen so far that I couldn't find my way back.
I turned over, punched the pillow, and tried to force myself to sleep.
But I could still hear her breathing in the next room.
Could still feel the pull toward her that I didn't understand.
Could still hear my own words echoing: Important to me.
Tomorrow, I'd bring her home.
Tomorrow, I'd make it official—she'd be my employee, my responsibility, my problem.
Tomorrow, I'd try to maintain the distance I needed to keep both of us safe.
But tonight—
Tonight I lay awake and admitted, just to myself, just in the privacy of my own mind—
I was in trouble.
Deep, complicated, dangerous trouble.
And I had no idea how to get out of it.
Or if I even wanted to.
MORNING
I woke to pale sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains.
The safe house was the place I found refuge. Right.
And today—
I sat up and checked my phone. 6am. Luca had texted: Room ready. Contract drawn up. Waiting for your signal.
I stood up, splashed water on my face in the small bathroom, and tried to look like someone who'd slept.
Then a knock on my door. Soft.
"Jeremy? Are you awake?"
Amelia's voice.
I opened the door. She stood there, already dressed, bag in hand, and looking nervous.
"I'm awake," I said. "You ready?"
"As ready as I'll be." She shifted her weight. "Jeremy, about this arrangement—the maid position—what exactly will I be doing?"
"Light housekeeping in my personal wing. Organising, tidying, simple tasks. Nothing you can't handle." I grabbed my jacket. "But honestly, the work is secondary. The primary purpose is giving you a legitimate reason to be there. To be protected."
"So it's just a cover."
"It's employment. It comes with a real salary, a real contract, and real responsibilities. But yes—the main purpose is your safety."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's go."
The drive to the estate took forty minutes.
Amelia sat beside me in the back seat, quiet, her hands folded in her lap. I could see the tension in her shoulders. The uncertainty.
"It's going to be fine," I said.
"You can't promise that."
"No. But I can promise you'll be safer than you were in Brooklyn. And safer than you were with Antonio."
"That's a relatively low expectation."
I almost smiled. Almost.
We pulled through the estate gates. I heard Amelia's sharp intake of breath as we climbed the long driveway.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I can hear it. The size. The space. This place is massive, isn't it?"
"Yes. The main house has three wings. North wing is my father's domain and primary family operations. West wing is Antonio's. The east wing is mine."
"And that's where I'll be?"
"Yes. Your room is down the hall from mine. The second door is located on the right side. The bathroom is located across the hall. Private, and secure."
The car stopped. I climbed out and came around to help Amelia.
She took my hand—brief contact, but I felt it, like electricity—and she let me guide her out.
"This way," I said.
I led her through the east wing entrance, past curious glances from staff, down the hallway to my personal quarters.
"Here." I opened a door. "This is your room."
I guided her inside. Luca and Nico had done well—the room was clean, simply furnished, and everything was organised and accessible. They'd even added Braille labels like I'd requested.
"Bed against the far wall," I said. "Dresser to the right. Closet left. Window overlooks the gardens. Bathroom across the hall."
"It's nice," she said quietly. "Thank you."
I pulled the contract from my jacket. "Before you settle in—we need to make this official."
"The employment contract?"
"Yes." I unfolded the papers. "I'll read it to you. Stop me if you have questions."
I read through the document slowly and clearly. Standard household staff terms. Reasonable salary—more than fair, actually. Room and board included. Weekly schedule. Responsibilities outlined. The termination clause heavily favoured her.
"The salary is too much," she said when I finished.
"It's market rate for personal household staff."
"No one pays this much for a maid, Jeremy."
"I do. Take it or leave it." I held out a pen. "Do you agree to the terms?"
She hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes."
"I need you to sign here." I guided her hand to the signature line and placed the pen in her fingers.
She signed—careful, deliberate strokes. Her signature was shaky but legible: Amelia.
Just Amelia. She didn't provide her last name.
Because I'd never asked. Because she'd never offered.
Because she was a girl without a past, without family, without anything except what I'd given her.
I signed below her name. Luca, who appeared in the doorway right on cue, witnessed the signing.
"It's official," I said. "You work for me now."
"What do I call you?" she asked. "Sir? Mr Santoro?"
"Jeremy. Just Jeremy." I folded the contract. "In private, anyway. Around others, Mr Santoro is fine."
"Okay."
I moved toward the door. "Settle in. Luca will bring you lunch. This afternoon, I'll show you around the wing so you know the layout."
"Jeremy?" She called me.
I stopped. "Yeah?"
"Thank you. For this. For—" She gestured vaguely. "For everything."
"You're welcome." I answered.
I left before I could say anything else. Before I could do something stupid like tell her why that I had her here, in my wing, down the hall—
It felt right.
Dangerous. Complicated. Probably a terrible idea.
But right.
I went to my own room, closed the door, and tried to figure out how to maintain professional distance from my new employee.
This employee was important to me.
The employee I couldn't let go.
The employee I was definitely, absolutely, undeniably falling for.
Even if I wasn't ready to admit it out loud yet.
Even if it complicated everything.
Even if it was the worst possible idea.
She was here now. She was here, in my home. She was under my protection.
The proximity was significant enough to pose a threat.
Close enough to matter.
And I had no idea what to do about it.