13. Luca
13
LUCA
T he first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains rouse me from sleep. For a moment, I’m disoriented, the events of yesterday feeling like a distant dream. But then I feel the warmth of another body beside me, and everything comes rushing back.
I turn my head slowly, careful not to disturb the sleeping figure next to me. Mia. My wife.
The sight of her takes my breath away. She lies on her side, facing me, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her dark hair spills across the pillow like a silk curtain, a stark contrast against the white linen. Her face, relaxed in sleep, looks even younger than her eighteen years. Long lashes rest against her cheeks, and her full lips are slightly parted, soft breaths escaping in a steady rhythm.
The sheet has slipped down, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulder and the upper swell of her breast. I resist the urge to reach out and touch her, to trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertips. She looks so peaceful, so innocent.
It’s hard to believe that just hours ago, she was writhing beneath me in pleasure.
Mia Marino. No, Mia Strambo now. My bride.
My prize.
She’s better than anything I could have possibly imagined when I came up with this half-assed plan. Soft and sweet, with an underlying strength that both surprises and intrigues me.
And she’s all mine, despite Dom’s best efforts to protect her.
The thought of Dom sends a familiar surge of satisfaction through me. I may not have put a bullet between his eyes as I’d originally planned, but this… this is almost better. I’ve humiliated him, taken the youngest Marino sister right from under his nose.
He might have been able to save Sofia, but he couldn’t save Mia.
I study Mia’s face again, noting the slight furrow between her brows even in sleep. Is she dreaming? And if so, are those dreams peaceful, or is she reliving the tumultuous events that brought her to my bed?
A pang of something—guilt, regret—tugs at my chest. I push it aside. This is war , I remind myself. In war, there are casualties. Mia’s comfort, her happiness, were never part of the equation.
And yet…
I can’t deny the unexpected connection I felt with her last night. The way her body responded to mine, the look in her eyes as she came undone beneath me. It was more than just physical pleasure. For a moment, just a moment, I felt something I haven’t felt in years.
A sense of belonging, of rightness.
But that’s dangerous thinking. I can’t afford to get soft now, not when I’m so close to achieving everything I’ve worked for. Mia is a pawn in this game, nothing more.
A beautiful, intriguing pawn, but a pawn, nonetheless.
Still, there’s no reason I can’t make her comfortable. I may be using her in my plot for revenge, but I’m not a monster. I’m a gentleman, and gentlemen take care of their wives, regardless of the circumstances of their marriage.
Decision made, I carefully extract myself from the bed, moving slowly to avoid waking Mia. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, merely burrowing deeper into the pillows with a soft sigh that does strange things to my heart.
I pull on a robe and make my way to the door, where I find Marco waiting, as always.
“Good morning, Boss,” he says, his eyes flickering briefly to the sleeping form in my bed before returning to me. “I trust you slept well?”
I nod, closing the door behind me to give Mia some privacy. “Have breakfast sent up in an hour,” I instruct. “Something light. Fruit, pastries, coffee. And… find out what Mia’s favorite flowers are. Have some sent up with breakfast.”
Marco raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on this uncharacteristic show of thoughtfulness. “Of course, Boss. Anything else?”
I consider for a moment. “Yes. I want a full report on the Sicura family’s movements since last night. And… reach out to our contacts in the Marino family. I want to know how they’re reacting to Mia’s… departure.”
“Consider it done,” Marco says with a nod. “Will you be joining the men for the morning briefing?”
I shake my head. “Not today. I’ll be in the gym if anything urgent comes up.”
With that, I make my way to my private gym. The familiar smells of leather and sweat greet me as I enter, and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. This is my sanctuary, the place where I come to clear my head and focus my thoughts. Removing my robe, I grab a pair of workout shorts and put them on.
It’s time to get to work.
I’m halfway through wrapping my hands when the door opens and Antonio, my personal trainer, walks in. He’s a bear of a man, ex-military with biceps the size of my thighs, but there’s a sharp intelligence in his eyes that belies his brutish appearance.
“Morning, Boss,” he says, nodding respectfully. “Didn’t expect to see you here today. Thought you might be… occupied.” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, and I know he’s thinking about my new bride upstairs.
I ignore the implication. “I need to clear my head,” I say shortly. “Let’s start with the bag.”
Antonio nods, his face becoming serious. He knows better than to pry when I’m in this mood. “Alright, let’s warm up first. Don’t want you pulling something on your honeymoon.”
I grunt in response and follow him through a series of stretches. As we work, I can feel my muscles loosening, my breaths becoming more controlled. But my mind is still racing, filled with images of Mia—her smile on the terrace, her fear in the ballroom, her passion in our bed.
“You’re distracted,” Antonio observes as we move to the punching bag. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Just hold the bag,” I growl, taking up my stance.
The first punch lands with a satisfying thud. I fall into a rhythm, my fists connecting with the bag in a steady tattoo.
Thud . Mia’s smile on the terrace when she thought I was Leonardo.
Thud . The look of betrayal on her face when she realized who I really was.
Thud . The feel of her lips against mine as we sealed our vows.
Thud . The sound of her gasps and moans as I claimed her body.
“Whoever you’re imagining on this bag,” Antonio grunts, bracing against my increasingly forceful blows, “they must have really pissed you off.”
I pause, breathing heavily. “It’s not that simple,” I mutter, reaching for my water bottle.
Antonio raises an eyebrow. “It never is with you, Boss. But whatever’s going on, you can’t punch your way out of it. Not this time.”
I know he's right, but I’m not ready to admit it. Instead, I nod toward the sparring mat. “Let’s go a few rounds. I need a moving target.”
For the next hour, Antonio and I dance around each other, trading blows and grapples. He’s good—one of the best I’ve ever trained with—but today, I’m driven by something more than just the desire to win. Every time I land a hit, every time I dodge one of his powerful swings, I feel a little more of my control returning.
By the time we finish, I’m drenched in sweat, my muscles burning pleasantly. But my mind is clearer, more focused. I know what I have to do. I have to stay the course, keep my eyes on the prize. Dom Sicura and his family will pay for what they’ve done to me, to my family.
Mia is just a means to an end.
“Whatever’s eating at you,” Antonio says as we cool down, “don’t let it consume you. You’ve worked too hard to let anything derail your plans now.”
I nod, grateful for his understanding without the need for explanations. “Thanks, Antonio. Same time tomorrow?”
He grins, clapping me on the shoulder. “You got it, Boss. Try not to overthink things in the meantime.”
The cool air of the hallway is a welcome relief against my heated skin as I leave the gym. I make my way toward the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. The mansion, usually a symbol of my power and success, feels different this morning. Bigger, somehow. Emptier.
I pause at the foot of the stairs, taking in the opulent surroundings. The sweeping staircase with its ornate wrought iron balustrade. The crystal chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling, casting prismatic patterns on the walls. Priceless artworks line the hallway, each piece carefully chosen to showcase my wealth and taste.
But today, it all feels hollow. What good is all this luxury if there’s no one to share it with?
I shake my head, banishing the thought. I didn't get where I am by being sentimental. This house, this life, I’ve earned it all. Fought for it.
And I won’t let anyone, not even a slip of a girl like Mia, make me doubt that.
As I climb the stairs, I notice Maria, one of the household staff, dusting the banister. She straightens immediately when she sees me, her eyes lowered respectfully.
“Good morning, Mr. Strambo,” she says, her voice soft but clear.
I nod in acknowledgment. “Maria. Is everything in order?”
“Yes, sir,” she replies promptly. “Breakfast has been sent up to your room as requested. And the…” She hesitates for a moment. “The flowers for Mrs. Strambo have been delivered.”
I notice her slight pause, the curiosity in her eyes quickly masked. News of my sudden marriage must be spreading through the staff like wildfire. But to her credit, Maria maintains her professional demeanor.
“Good,” I say. “Make sure the east wing is prepared. Mrs. Strambo will be choosing her personal suite today.”
Maria’s eyes widen slightly at this, but she quickly composes herself. “Of course, Mr. Strambo. I’ll see to it immediately.”
As she hurries off to carry out my orders, I continue my ascent. At the top of the stairs, I encounter Carlo, my head of security. He’s a hard man, ex-military like Antonio, with a scar running down the left side of his face that only adds to his intimidating presence.
“Boss,” he says, inclining his head. “Perimeter’s secure. No unusual activity overnight.”
I nod, appreciating his succinct report. “And our… guests from last night?”
Carlo’s lip curls slightly. “All taken care of. No loose ends.”
“Good work,” I say. “Double the patrols for the next few days. I don’t want any surprises.”
“Understood, Boss,” Carlo replies. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “And… congratulations. On your marriage.”
I study him for a moment, searching for any hint of judgment or curiosity in his stoic face. But there’s nothing there except genuine respect and perhaps a touch of concern.
“Thank you, Carlo,” I finally say. “That will be all.”
As he moves off to carry out my orders, I continue down the hallway toward my bedroom. Our bedroom now, I suppose. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me, quickly followed by a wave of frustration. I can’t afford to think of Mia that way. She’s a means to an end, nothing more.
I pass by Marco who’s just exiting one of the guest rooms. He falls into step beside me, matching my stride.
“Everything’s proceeding as planned, Boss,” he reports quietly. “Our contacts in the Marino family say they’re in chaos. Dom Sicura’s been making calls all night, trying to track us down.”
A cold smile spreads across my face. Good. Let Dom squirm. Let him feel the helplessness, the fear of losing someone he loves. It’s only a fraction of what I’ve endured.
“Keep me updated,” I tell Marco. “And make sure our new… guest… has everything she needs. Within reason, of course.”
Marco nods, understanding the delicate balance we’re trying to strike. “Of course, Boss. Anything else?”
I pause, considering. “Yes. Arrange for a selection of clothes to be brought in. Something suitable for Mrs. Strambo’s new position. And… some books. I believe she enjoys reading.”
If Marco is surprised by this show of consideration, he doesn’t show it. “Consider it done,” he says before peeling off down another hallway.
Finally, I find myself standing outside my bedroom door. Our bedroom door. I can hear movement inside. Mia must be awake. For a moment, I’m gripped by an unfamiliar sensation. Nervousness? Anticipation? I’m not sure.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I’m Luca Strambo. I’ve faced down rival Mafia bosses, corrupt politicians, and killers of all stripes. I won’t be undone by one girl, no matter how captivating she might be.
With that thought firmly in mind, I reach out and turn the handle, pushing the door open.