Chapter 10 #2
“The fact that his assessment was completely wrong doesn’t diminish the thinking behind the attempt,” Danny agrees.
“This shows really fucking good intelligence gathering, Luca. Romano knows our organization better than we realized. He knows our people’s weaknesses, our vulnerabilities, and probably our operational patterns.
And he’s been positioning pieces on the board while we’ve been focused on the Torrino alliance. ”
I lean back in my chair, processing the full scope of what I’ve learned.
This isn’t the work of a desperate rival trying to survive.
This is someone planning a coup while I’ve been distracted by revenge against Antonio Conti.
The irony is bitter. I’ve spent three years focused on destroying one man and his daughter while a real threat has been growing in the shadows, getting ready to take everything I’ve built.
I’m so fucking stupid.
“What’s our exposure?” I ask, shoving aside all feelings of self-loathing into my mental box. “How many people could Romano have compromised?”
“Unknown. Maria is singing now that she understands the alternative, but she was compartmentalized. She only knows about her own assignment and maybe two or three other low-level informants. Romano’s running a proper intelligence operation with cells and cutouts.
” Danny’s frustration is evident in the tension radiating off him.
“We’re doing a full audit of all personnel, but it’s going to take time we might not have. ”
“And the arms purchases suggest he’s not planning to wait much longer.” I study the documents again, looking for patterns, for weaknesses, for anything I can exploit. “When does he move?”
Danny shrugs. “Best guess? Soon. Maybe weeks, maybe days. The Benedetto alliance is new enough that they’re probably still establishing protocols and supply lines.
But once those are in place…” Danny doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
Once Romano has his pieces positioned, he’ll strike fast and hard.
“Increase security across all operations,” I order, my mind already running through possibilities. “I want armed escorts on every major transaction, double guards on the warehouses, and someone I trust personally watching the ports. If Romano is preparing for war, we need to be ready for it.”
Danny nods. “Already in progress. But boss, there’s something else you need to consider.
” He eyes me as if knowing what he’s about to say next will piss me off.
“Giuliana turned down two million dollars and freedom. She reported the approach instead of using it to her advantage. That has to mean something to you.”
It does. That’s the problem.
It means far too much, and I’m not ready to examine what it says about both her and my willingness to continue punishing her.
“It means she’s smart enough to know Romano would kill her the moment she delivered the information,” I say, keeping my voice cold. “Or that I’d hunt her down for betraying me. She made the practical choice.”
“Did she?” Danny challenges. “Or did she make the moral one? She’s had every reason to betray you, every motivation to take that money and run.
But she didn’t. Maybe the Conti family bloodline isn’t as rotten as you convinced yourself it was.
Maybe Antonio’s daughter actually has integrity her father lacked. ”
Fucking Danny. I don’t need this shit right now. “Her father’s integrity, or lack thereof, isn’t relevant to her role here,” I snap, but the words sound hollow even to me.
The fucker actually rolls his eyes. “It’s relevant to whether you can keep justifying what you’re doing to her,” Danny presses.
“She just proved she’s nothing like Antonio.
At some point, you’re going to have to decide if you’re still pursuing justice for Marco or if you’re just too goddamn proud to admit this revenge was a mistake. ”
I slam my hand on the desk hard enough to make the whiskey glass jump. I’m not going to sit here and take Danny’s disrespect. “Get out,” I say through gritted teeth, my fingers itching for my gun.
Danny at least has the balls to look abashed, knowing he overstepped big time. “Boss,” he tries, but I’m not having it.
“I said get out,” I nearly spit, then a thought occurs to me. “Bring Giuliana to my study in thirty minutes and then leave us alone.”
Danny holds my gaze for a long moment, and I see disappointment written clearly across his features.
But ultimately he obeys, gathering up the files and leaving me alone with my thoughts and the acrid taste of truths I don’t want to swallow.
Giuliana turned down freedom.
She reported Romano’s approach instead of using it to escape or to help her cause.
She chose to stay—with me, her captor—over her own self-interest.
The question that gnaws at me as I wait isn’t why she did it.
It’s what I’m supposed to do with the knowledge that the woman I’ve been destroying has more honor than most people in my organization.
That she’s nothing like her father.
That punishing her for Antonio’s transgressions is exactly as unjust as she’s accused me of being.
But admitting that means admitting that three years of my life have been wasted on a revenge that serves no purpose beyond making me feel like I’m doing something about the gaping hole Marco’s death left behind and the fact I couldn’t find the mastermind of the operation.
And that’s not something I’m willing to think about right now.
So I pour another whiskey and wait for Danny to bring Giuliana to me, already knowing this conversation will solve nothing and change nothing, because I’m too far gone to turn back now.
Exactly thirty minutes later, Danny escorts Giuliana into my study.
She’s wearing jeans and a simple blue sweater that reminds me of the fucking midnight blue dress I can’t forget her in, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail that emphasizes the exhaustion evident in the shadows under her eyes.
No makeup, no jewelry, none of the expensive trappings I’ve forced on her. Just Giuliana, looking wary and resigned and—
I cut the thought off before it can fully form.
Beautiful.
She’s beautiful even when exhausted and trapped and facing down the man who destroyed her life, and I fucking hate that I notice.
I hate that three days of avoiding her hasn’t diminished whatever this unwanted awareness is.
“Thank you, Danny,” I say without looking away from her. “Leave us.”
He hesitates. I can feel his disapproval radiating off him in waves. But ultimately he obeys, closing the study doors behind him that sounds unnaturally loud in the silence.
“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the chair in front of my desk.
But Giuliana doesn’t sit.
She stands in the middle of my study with her spine straight and her chin raised, waiting.
Not scared exactly, but cautious.
Like she’s facing down a dangerous animal and trying to decide whether it’s going to attack or ignore her.
“Maria approached you this morning,” I begin, my voice carefully neutral as I lean against my desk with my arms crossed.
“Yes.” No hesitation, no attempt to deny or deflect.
“Romano offered you two million dollars and safe passage.” I study her face, looking for cracks in her composure that might reveal anything. “That’s a generous offer.”
“It was.” Her tone is flat and emotionless, revealing nothing.
“Most people in your position would have taken it.” I let the silence stretch between us, watching for any sign of doubt or second-guessing. “Two million dollars buys a lot of freedom. A new identity, a new country, a fresh start far away from all of this.” I wave my hand in the air.
“I’m aware of what two million dollars can buy.” There’s a hint of annoyance in her voice now. A flash of the defiance that makes her so much more complicated than I want her to be.
I pounce on that. “Then why didn’t you take it?”
Silence. Giuliana’s jaw tightens, and I see her hands clench briefly at her sides before she forces them to relax. She’s carefully controlling her reactions and maintaining composure despite the pressure I’m applying.
Interesting. So very interesting.
“Because I’m not a traitor,” she says finally, the words coming out precise and measured. “Whatever else I am—prisoner, pawn, tool for your revenge—I’m not someone who betrays people for money.” She spits the word out like it’s venom.
“Even when those people are holding you captive?” I push away from the desk, taking a step closer to her, invading her space deliberately. “Even when they’ve destroyed your life and clearly have no regard for your wellbeing?”
This close, I can see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat, the slight dilation of her pupils as I move into her personal space.
Her skin is flushed from the confrontation, color high in her cheeks, and there’s something about the way she refuses to back down—chin raised, eyes blazing—that makes her striking.
I force the observation away, refocusing on the interrogation.
This isn’t about how she looks.
It’s about understanding why she made the choice she did.
“Even then.” She meets my gaze without flinching, and I have to respect the courage that takes.
“I may hate you for what you’ve done to me, Luca, and spend every night wishing I could escape this nightmare.
But I’m not my father. I won’t sell information that could get people killed just to save myself. ”
The comparison to Antonio makes me jolt.
This is exactly what her father did.
He sold information to save himself from debt, and people died because of it.
And now his daughter, given the exact same choice, makes the opposite decision.
The integrity of it forces me to reassess everything I thought I knew about the Conti family.
Antonio was weak, cowardly, willing to betray anyone to save his own skin.
I assumed his daughter would carry the same moral rot.
But Giuliana just proved that assumption catastrophically wrong.
And I hate being wrong.