26. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Luca
I n a single heartbeat, my world realigns.
I cross the room, dropping to my knees before her. My hands hover over her abdomen, not quite touching, suddenly afraid of my own strength.
"Say it again," I demand.
Bianca's fingers tremble as she guides my palm to rest against her warm, bare skin. "I'm pregnant, Luca Ravelli. With your child."
A fierce, primal heat blooms beneath my ribs.
For a man who deals in death daily, the creation of life strikes me harder than you think it would. I press my face against her stomach, breathing in the scent of her skin, imagining the changes already taking place beneath my touch.
My heir. My blood. Growing inside the woman I've claimed as my own.
"When?" I manage, words scraping my throat raw.
"I don't know exactly. Five weeks, maybe six. I took a test the day I visited my mother without permission."
The day Elena's tomb was desecrated. The day everything began spiraling toward tonight's inevitable confrontation.
My hands tighten on her hips, the urge to possess, to protect, overwhelming everything else.
Even the revenge that's burned in my blood all night.
"Luca," Bianca's fingers tangle in my hair, drawing my face up to meet her gaze. "Are you still going to confront Vito? After this?"
The recording burns in my pocket, a tangible anchor of the task ahead. My father's voice, ordering my mother's brutal execution. The final piece in a puzzle I've been assembling since I knelt in Elena's blood on cathedral steps.
"Now more than ever," I rise to my feet, cupping Bianca's face between my hands. "Because, my love, now I have two hearts to protect. Not just one."
Tears well in her eyes, but she presses her lips to my palm, eyes shining with something that looks too much like love to name.
"Then make sure you come back to us, Luca. Don't you dare die tonight."
Us .
The word echoes through me like a benediction and a threat combined. No longer just Bianca and me. A family. Something I'd buried the possibility of when I watched them lower my mother into the ground.
"Lock the door," I repeat, pressing a fierce kiss to her mouth. "Trust no one until I return."
The weight of the recording in my pocket has changed. It's no longer just evidence of past sins, but protection for a future I will do anything to protect.
I kiss Bianca and turn my back.
The walk to Vito's wing feels like crossing a battlefield. Guards straighten as I pass, sensing something has shifted. They're right. Everything has changed.
I am no longer just Luca Ravelli, heir to a blood-soaked empire.
I am the father of the next generation. The protector of a legacy that now extends beyond vengeance and power.
The thought doesn't make me softer. It makes me even more fucking dangerous .
My father's study door stands ajar when I arrive, yellow light spilling into the dimly lit hallway. I push it open without knocking, the hinges creaking a warning I ignore.
But when I enter…
The room is empty.
Vito's oxygen tank sits beside his favorite chair, but the man himself is absent. The desk—where he's conducted family business for decades—remains pristine, papers arranged in careful stacks, crystal decanter reflecting lamplight.
I cross to the desk, trailing my fingers across the smooth mahogany. How many deaths has this surface witnessed? How many lives bought and sold, ended with the stroke of a pen?
My mother's, for one.
But of course the fucker isn't here tonight.
I remove the phone from my pocket, placing it on the desk's center. Ready to play the recording that will end Vito's reign once and for all. Ready to confront the man who orchestrated Elena Ravelli's murder for the sake of control and power.
"Looking for Father?" Nico's voice startles me from the doorway. "He left with Matteo about an hour ago. Something about his medical treatment."
The convenient timing of his absence burns like acid. It's nearly the middle of the fucking night. I don't care how much power he has, a medical appointment at this time?
Yeah. I'm calling bullshit.
After fifteen years of waiting, the confrontation is delayed because my father sensed what was coming. He's always had an uncanny ability to disappear when confrontation looms.
"How convenient," I mutter, slamming my fist on the desk. "When is he expected back?"
"No telling." Nico steps into the room, hands sliding into his pockets with well rehearsed nonchalance. "I did hear them talking this morning. The doctors say his lungs are failing faster now. The end is coming."
I don't fucking care. Not anymore.
This is still too easy. Too convenient.
Before I can respond, Alessio appears behind Nico, his broad shoulders tighter than when I left him earlier this afternoon.
"Luca," he addresses me directly, bypassing Nico entirely. Nico notices and rolls his eyes at my clear superiority. "I thought you might be here. We have confirmation of the matter we discussed this afternoon. Your suspicions are correct. The warehouse leak was an inside job."
Nico's eyebrows lift, a flash of genuine surprise lighting up this dark night. "What?"
"Dante's men." Alessio enters fully, closing the door behind him. "We've traced the security breach back to his lieutenant. The one who disappeared last week."
I hold back the dark laugh threatening to escape. " Disappeared ? Such a clean word for such a messy end."
Dante's lieutenant hadn't disappeared so much as decorated my basement walls with his final confessions. His blood still stains my favorite leather gloves - the ones I wore while extracting every detail about who ordered him to violate my mother's tomb.
"His name was Antonio Cornelli," I supply, remembering the man whose brain I'd picked off my shirt last week.
Alessio nods sharply. "Yeah. And it's not just the warehouse. Everything—the shipping schedules, the security rotations at Elena's tomb, the meeting times with the Volkovs. All leaked directly to our competitors."
The pieces click together with sickening clarity.
Dante—my brother turned rival—working actively against family interests as the Throne slips away from his grasp. He's been working quickly ever since the night I married. Setting up distractions. Creating chaos while positioning himself to claim the throne the moment it's vacated.
My phone vibrates on the desk, screen lighting up with an unknown number. London area code.
I answer, voice controlled despite the rage building beneath my skin. "Speak."
"Luca Ravelli." The voice slithers through the connection, accent thick with Russian vowels. Demyan Volkov. "I believe we have something to discuss regarding your... wife."
Instinct screams danger through my veins.
I'm pregnant, Luca.
"What about my wife?"
"Let's just say we have proof of her... heritage." A pause on the line weighs heavy in my father's empty office. "Proof that she belongs with us, not you."
My grip tightens on the phone. "If you go near her—"
"Calm yourself, Ravelli." Demyan's laugh grates against my ear. "We simply wish to share information. I simply request another meeting. Tonight. To discuss the truth about Bianca's bloodline."
Bianca's words echo in my mind—her father, Alexei Petrov, defected to the Volkovs. For her mother. For her.
"Whatever you think you know—"
"We know enough," Demyan interrupts. "The Gramercy Hotel, East London. One hour. Come alone, and we'll explain exactly why your father has been so... interested in your civilian bride."
The call ends instantly, silence filling the vacuum like poison gas.
Nico watches me carefully, calculating the implications of the conversation he just witnessed. "The Volkovs claim they can prove something about Bianca?"
"So it seems." I pocket my phone, mind racing through scenarios, contingencies, traps. "They want a meeting. Tonight."
"It's Dante," Alessio interjects, certainty hardening his features. "Don't be fooled. Don't go. This has his fingerprints all over it."
"And if it isn't?"
Alessio raises a brow. "Luca, come on. First the warehouse, then your mother's tomb, now this—direct contact from the Volkovs about your wife? Too coordinated to be coincidence."
He's right. The timing is too perfect. Each incident designed to pull me away from the estate at exactly the right time, to divide my attention, to create vulnerabilities where none existed before.
Just like everything else.
I'm pregnant. With your child.
"I agree, Alessio." I straighten my tie, my decision crystallizing with cold certainty. "Which is why I'll meet with them. Alone."
Nico steps forward, concern creasing his brow. "Luca. It's obviously a trap. That's exactly what they want, you to leave right now."
"Of course it is." I smile thinly. "And I'm going to spring the trap."
I turn to Alessio, authority settling over my shoulders like armor. "Double the security on my wing. No one enters or leaves without direct authorization from me. Keep Bianca safe until I return."
"And if she tries to leave?" Alessio asks, knowing my wife's tendency toward defiance.
"She won't." The memory of her hand on her stomach, of the life growing within her, steadies my voice. "But if she does, you have my permission to use whatever means necessary to keep her inside these walls."
I won't be gone long. Just long enough for them to think they've got me right where they want me.
Then, I'll hit.
I retrieve my phone from the desk, the recording of Vito's betrayal momentarily forgotten in the face of this new threat. The confrontation with my father will wait. It's waited for fifteen fucking years… what's another night.
In my eyes, the old man's deliberate absence only confirms his guilt. I'll return to finish what I started with Vito.
His day of reckoning is merely postponed, not canceled.
As I stride toward the door, Nico falls into step beside me. "What about Father? When he returns—"
" If he returns," I correct him.
"Of course, yes," Nico shrugs.
"If you see him, you tell him nothing," I order. "This stays between us until I've assessed the Volkovs' claims and dealt with Dante's dishonor."
Nico nods, a rare moment of solidarity between brothers who've spent years circling each other with careful distance. "Matteo should be informed. He will protect the family, unless of course…"
"Unless he is with Vito."
Nico nods, and a silence passes between us. The lines of alliances are blurring. This is all getting to fucked up. Even by Ravelli standards.
"Matteo is loyal to the crest. Find him and bring him to my wing," I order. "I want his eyes on Bianca while I'm gone."
The decision made, I move with renewed purpose through the corridors that have witnessed the rise and fall of Ravelli power for generations. The mansion that will soon see a new Don crowned—me, with Bianca at my side, our child the next heir in a bloodline purified by fire.
I return to our wing briefly before departing, need driving me to see her one last time before walking into what might well be a carefully orchestrated ambush.
Bianca waits in our bedroom, still wrapped in nothing but a silk robe, her wet hair drying around her shoulders. Her eyes widen at my expression, instantly alert to the shift in atmosphere.
"Did you do it? Is he—" She rises from the bed, eyes wide and alert. She looks at my clean clothes and the assumption in her eyes is correct. "What's going on?"
I gather her against me with more gentleness than I thought myself capable of. One hand splays across her lower back, the other tangling in her damp hair as I breathe in her scent.
"Vito wasn't there, my love. And now, the Volkovs have requested a meeting," I tell her, voice low against her temple. "Tonight."
She stiffens in my arms, attempting to pull back. I hold her tighter, unwilling to release her just yet.
"This is about me," she concedes, breathing heavily against my chest.
"They claim it's about your father."
"But you're not so sure?"
I shake my head, holding her close. "I don't know what to think at the moment. All I know is I need to see their demands out and deal with Vito after."
"I'm coming with you," she declares, defiance vibrating through her slender frame.
"No." The word leaves no room for argument. "You will remain here, under guard. Matteo is under orders and will stay with you until I return."
"Luca, if this is about me—about my past—I have a right to be there." Her hands press against my chest, creating space between us so she can meet my gaze directly.
I cup her face between my palms, thumbs tracing the curve of her cheekbones.
"You have a right to safety, my love. To protection. Especially now." My gaze drops meaningfully to her abdomen. "This meeting has Dante's fingerprints all over it. It's a trap, little rabbit, and I won't risk you or our child stepping into it."
"Luca, if you're so sure it's a trap, then why are you going?"
I trace my thumb across her lower lip, memorizing the softness there. "Because, my love, I need them to believe they have me exactly where they want me."
Her breath catches as my grip tightens on her jaw.
"And then I'm going to make them wish they'd never heard the name Luca Ravelli." My voice drops to a whisper against her ear. "I'm going to paint that room with their blood. I'm going to take their tongues before they can scream, their eyes before they can blink, and their hearts while they still beat. And I'm going to send what's left back to Dmitri piece by piece until he understands exactly what happens when someone threatens to take my wife and my unborn child away from me."
She trembles in my grasp, but doesn't pull away. "You really think they mean to hurt me?"
"No, little rabbit." I press my forehead to hers. "They mean to use you to hurt me. And for that, those filthy fucking Russian's need to die screaming."
Her fingers curl into my shirt. "Luca..."
"This is who I am, Bianca. This is the monster you married. And tonight, I'm going to remind everyone why they should fear my name once again."
Something shifts in her expression. The fierce independence that first drew me to her softening into something more complex.
Not submission, never that, but understanding. Partnership. Trust.
"Promise me you'll be careful," she whispers, fingers curling into my shirt.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing the same air, sharing the same space like it might be the last time I do.
"Always," I vow, sealing the promise with a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens, my control slipping as always happens when she's in my arms.
Her robe parts beneath my hands, exposing warm skin and soft curves that respond instantly to my touch. For a moment, I consider taking her again—marking her as mine one final time before facing whatever trap awaits me.
But time presses against us, and the Volkovs aren't known for their patience.
I break the kiss, trailing my lips across her jaw to the sensitive spot behind her ear that makes her shiver.
"When I return," I promise darkly, "I'll remind you exactly how that baby came to be inside you."
Her answering moan vibrates against my chest, sending heat straight to my core. "And if the Volkovs convince you otherwise?" she challenges, never one to surrender completely. "If they have proof I carry enemy blood?"
I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, letting her see the truth that burns behind my eyes. "You could be Dmitri Volkov's daughter herself, and it wouldn't matter. You're mine, Bianca."
My hand drifts to her stomach, resting possessively over the life we've created together. "This child is mine. A Ravelli heir, regardless of what blood runs in your veins."
Tears shimmer in her eyes, though she'd deny their existence if questioned.
A knock at the door signals Matteo's arrival. Good. Perhaps Vito has returned too.
I press one final kiss to Bianca's forehead, inhaling her scent like a man preparing for battle.
"Lock the door behind me," I instruct, stepping back reluctantly. "Trust only Matteo and Teresa until I return."
I turn and walk away from the woman who carries my child, toward whatever threat Dante and the Volkovs have orchestrated in their desperate bid to claim what rightfully belongs to me.
And then, upon my return, I will deal with my father and claim the throne.