Chapter 45 The Change of Plan
JEREMY
I sat in my private office—not the main Santoro office at the estate, but the small one I kept in the city for when I needed space to think—and stared at the wall.
Victoria knew about Amelia.
Which meant others probably did too.
Victoria was discreet and careful. She wouldn't spread rumours. But her investigator might talk. Someone at the hospital where he was treated might connect dots. Someone watching Victoria might have followed her PI to Brooklyn.
The information was out there. Floating. Spreading.
Jeremy Santoro is protecting a blind girl in a Brooklyn safe house.
And once that information reached the wrong ears—the Volkovs, rival families, Antonio's allies—Amelia became a target.
And that's a way to get to me. A weakness to exploit.
The safe house wasn't safe anymore.
I'd thought it was hidden, secure, unknown. But if Victoria could find it, others could too.
I needed to move her. Somewhere I could actually protect her. Somewhere with guards, security, and walls.
Somewhere I could keep her close.
The Santoro estate was the most secure location we had. Armed guards, cameras. Controlled access. No one got in or out without clearance.
But bringing her there created its own complications.
My father would ask questions. Antonio would see it as proof of what he'd been saying—that I was compromised, distracted, and weak.
Unless I had a reason. I needed a legitimate, business-related reason for bringing a blind girl into the main family compound.
I pulled out my phone and dialled Luca.
"Boss?" he answered.
"I need you to prepare a room in my personal wing of the estate. I am referring to my personal wing, not the guest quarters. My wing."
He was quiet for a sec, then asked. "For whom?"
I answered hurriedly, "Amelia. I'm moving her from Brooklyn. Today."
"Today? What happened?"
"Victoria found her. She hired a PI. "If Victoria found her, then others can find her too." I rubbed my eyes. "The safe house is compromised. She needs to be somewhere more secure."
"And you're bringing her to the estate? Boss, your father—"
"Will be told she's my new personal assistant. Or maid. Or whatever title makes the most sense." I stood and started pacing. "She'll have employment paperwork, a contract, everything legitimate. As far as anyone knows, I hired her for household help."
"A blind maid?"
"Why not? She's perfectly capable of managing tasks. And it's not unprecedented—we've hired staff with various challenges before." I stopped at the window. "Besides, having her in my wing means I can keep her close. Protected. No one touches my personal staff without going through me."
"Okay. I'll have a room ready in two hours. What else do you need?"
"Employment contract. The employment contract should adhere to standard terms for household staff. Reasonable salary. The salary includes room and board. Get it drawn up by tonight."
"On it. And boss? What about Antonio? He's not going to like this." Luca asked concerned.
"Antonio doesn't get a vote. The deal was that he let her go. Where she goes after is my business." I grabbed my jacket. "Get Nico to help with the room. I want it ready before I bring her."
"Understood."
I hung up and stared at my reflection in the window.
Bringing Amelia to the mansion. To my personal wing. Where I'd see her every day. Where she'd be close enough to—
To what? Complicate things further? Make it harder to ignore whatever the matter was?
But the alternative was leaving her vulnerable. Exposed. At risk.
And I couldn't do that.
Even if I didn't understand why.
Bringing her closer was the most dangerous thing I could do.
I arrived at the Brooklyn safe house around 9pm.
Knocked on the door. "Amelia. It's Jeremy."
She opened it, looking tired. She appeared to have had a restless night as well.
"You're back," she said.
"I'm staying tonight. In the other bedroom." I stepped inside and locked the door behind me. "There's been a development."
"What kind of development?"
"The kind that means you're not safe here anymore. We're moving you tomorrow. Somewhere more secure."
"Where?"
"The Santoro estate. My home." I moved to the window and checked the street below. "You'll have a room in my personal wing. Official employment as my personal maid. Salary, contract, everything legitimate."
She was quiet for a long moment. "Your personal maid."
"It's a cover. A reason for you to be there that won't raise questions." I turned to face her. "But it also means you'll be protected. The estate has security I can't replicate here. Guards. Cameras. Controlled access. No one gets to you without going through me first."
"And Antonio? He's at the estate too, isn't he?" she asked.
"In a different wing. They are situated in different parts of the compound. You won't have to interact with him." I kept my voice firm. "And if he tries anything, contract or no contract, he'll answer to me."
"Jeremy, this is—it's a lot. Your home. This is your personal space. What will people think?"
"They'll think I hired household help. Nothing more." I moved toward her. "Amelia, the safe house is no longer secure." Victoria found you. If she could find you, others can too. The Volkovs are looking for leverage against my family. If they discover you're important to me—"
I stopped.
Important to me.
The words had slipped out without thought.
"Important how?" she asked quietly.
"Important enough that I need you somewhere I can actually protect you." I stepped back. "That's all that matters right now."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. Early. Pack what you need tonight. Luca will have the room ready by then."
"Okay."
I moved toward the other bedroom. "I'll be in here if you need anything. Keep your door locked."
"Jeremy?"
I stopped. "Yeah?"
"Why are you staying? If we're leaving tomorrow anyway, why not just come get me in the morning?"
Because I'd shot someone over her tonight. Because Victoria's words had rattled me more than I wanted to admit. Because of the thought of her being here alone, vulnerable, and possibly being watched.
"Because I don't trust that we weren't followed," I said instead. "Because until you're at the estate, I'm not taking chances."
I went into the spare bedroom before she could ask more questions.
Closed the door. Locked it out of habit.
Then sat on the bed and tried not to think about the fact that Amelia was just on the other side of the wall.
AMELIA
I stood in the living room after Jeremy disappeared into the spare bedroom, my mind racing.
The Santoro estate. His personal wing. He employed me as his personal maid.
A cover story. Employment. Nothing more.
Except the –
'Important to me'
He'd said it without thinking. He quickly realised his mistake. Then he stepped back.
But he'd said it.
I was important to him.
I just didn't know what that meant.
I went to my bedroom—the room I'd been staying in for just a few days—and started gathering my things. The clothes Jeremy had provided. The few personal items I had. My damaged cane.
Not much. My entire life fits in a single bag.
Tomorrow I'd be at his home. I will be living under his wing. Working as his maid.
I will be in close proximity to him every day.
The thought made my chest tight with something I couldn't name.
Fear? Anticipation? Confusion?
All of it, probably.
I finished packing and lay down on the bed, fully clothed.
I could hear Jeremy moving around in the other room. Pacing. Restless.
Was he thinking about tomorrow too? About what it meant to bring me into his home?
Or was I reading too much into everything again? Was I interpreting significance when it was merely a matter of common sense?
He was protecting me. That's all. The same way he'd protected me from the gang war, from Antonio, from Miguel.
I was a responsibility. A complication he couldn't abandon.
Nothing more.
Except—
'Important to me.'
I turned over, pressed my face into the pillow, and tried to sleep.
But I could still hear him on the other side of the wall.
Could still feel the weight of unspoken words between us.
Could still remember the way his voice had changed when he'd said he couldn't let me go.
Tomorrow, everything would change again.
Tomorrow, I'd be living under his roof. I would see him every day. Close enough to—
To what?
I didn't know.
And that uncertainty—that not knowing what I was to him, what this was becoming.
It kept me awake long into the night.