Ciara returns to the Morelli's seeking revenge against the men that raped her when she was just fourteen years old. But along the way, She falls in love with the one person she is not supposed to.
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The brothers exchanged glances before filing out, the tension in the room palpable even after they had gone. Mrs. Morelli's eyes searched her son's face, a silent question hanging in the air. He took a deep breath, his hand dropping to his side, and approached the bed.
"Your reputation precedes you, Ciara," Rafael said, his voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "My mother told me that you had excellent recommendations."
"Yes, I have a lot of experience with patients who have suffered from stroke," I replied with a nervous laugh, hoping it didn't betray the storm of emotions roiling within me. "It's a challenging condition, but with the right care, they can live fulfilling lives."
Rafael's gaze never left me, his eyes a piercing blue that seemed to see through the facade I had so carefully constructed. "And how old are you again, Ciara?" he asked, his voice a smooth caress that made me feel both exposed and vulnerable.
I met his gaze, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew this was a test, a subtle probing of my authenticity. I had prepared for it, rehearsing my responses until they were as natural as my own breath. "I'm twenty-five," I said, my voice calm and even. "I've been working in the medical field for six years now."
"Twenty-five," he repeated, his expression unreadable. "That's quite young for someone with 'excellent recommendations.'" The way he said it made it sound like a challenge, a declaration of his skepticism.
"Please, Rafael," Mrs. Morelli's voice was a soft interjection, a gentle reminder of my presence. "Ciara is here to help me, not to be interrogated."
Rafael's gaze didn't waver from mine. "You're right, mamma," he conceded with a nod. "But the most important thing is that the person who takes care of you must be completely trustworthy. You are very important to all of us." His words hung in the air, a silent ultimatum that seemed to echo the very essence of the mansion's grandeur.
Mrs. Morelli's hand reached out to pat his, a gesture that spoke volumes of the unspoken bond between them. "I will, my son," she said, her voice filled with a mix of reassurance and resignation.
Rafael's gaze didn't waver from mine as he spoke. "Do you have your CV with you?" he asked, his voice as sharp as a scalpel. "I'd like to review it again before you begin your duties."
"Yes, I have them in my bag." I said, keeping my voice calm despite the racing thoughts. I knew this was a ploy to keep me within his grasp, to maintain control over the situation.
Rafael nodded curtly, his eyes still searching my face. "Good. I'll review them after dinner. For now, I'd like you to settle in." He gestured towards the corridor. "Okay then. There is a room at the end of the hallway, come on I'll show you it." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
As we made our way down the hall, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the high ceilings, I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back. The room was smaller than the others, but still opulently decorated, with a queen-sized bed adorned with silk sheets and a plush duvet. A small desk sat by the window, the sun casting a silver glow over the polished mahogany surface.
