Chapter 10 #3
“Romano would have protected you,” I say, testing her reasoning. “Once you delivered the information, you’d be valuable to him. An asset.”
“Or a liability he’d eliminate the moment I was no longer useful.
” Giuliana’s laugh is sharp and knowing.
“I’m not stupid, Luca. I know how your world works.
There’s no such thing as guaranteed safety when you betray someone like you.
Romano would have used me and then disposed of me to tie up loose ends. ”
“So you chose me.” The words are foreign in my mouth. “You chose loyalty to your captor over freedom.”
She tips her head back and laughs, but it’s not a good laugh.
“Loyalty? You think this is loyalty? I chose not to be responsible for more deaths,” she corrects sharply, her eyes flashing with controlled anger.
“Don’t confuse my refusal to become a traitor with any kind of affection or loyalty to you personally.
I’d still leave in a heartbeat if I could do it without blood on my hands. ”
The clarification should satisfy me.
It should confirm that this changes nothing between us.
But something in her voice suggests she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.
Like she’s drawn a line she’s desperately trying not to cross, and my proximity is making that harder than she wants to admit.
I close the remaining distance between us, and she tilts her head back to maintain eye contact, refusing to be intimidated.
This close, I can see the purple-ish bags under her eyes that suggest she’s sleeping as poorly as I am.
I can smell her shampoo—its clean and floral and has nothing to do with the expensive products I provide.
I can see the way her lips part slightly as she catches her breath, the defiance in her eyes mixed with something else that makes my pulse race.
The thought intrudes before I can stop it: she’s beautiful when she’s angry.
More than beautiful—she’s magnetic in a way that makes it hard to remember why maintaining distance matters, why keeping her at arm’s length emotionally is essential for the plan.
I force myself to step back, to break whatever dangerous moment just passed between us.
This is exactly why I’ve been avoiding her.
This unwanted pull that has nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with the fact that my body apparently doesn’t give a fuck that she’s not supposed to be a temptation.
“You’re not like him,” I finally say, hating every word that comes out of my mouth. “Your father. You’re nothing like him.”
Giuliana’s eyes widen slightly, surprise crossing her features before she can hide it. But then her eyes narrow. “Is that supposed to comfort me?” she snaps. “You’re still punishing me for his crimes.”
“I know.” The words come out harsher than I intend. “I know that, and I’m doing it anyway.”
“Why?” The question bursts out of her, raw and desperate. “If you know I’m innocent, if you can see I’m nothing like my father, why continue this? What does destroying me accomplish?”
Because someone has to pay.
Because Marco’s death demands avenging and I don’t know how else to do so. Because three years of planning can’t be wrong or be wasted.
But I don’t say any of that. “I’ve already told you that the alliance with Viktor Torrino requires a stable marriage,” I say, my voice businesslike. “That’s what you’re for, Giuliana. Political theater to seal territorial agreements. I’m not going to remind you of this again.”
“And after?” She’s not letting me evade the real question. She can see I’m deflecting. “After the alliance is secure and I’ve played my role, what happens to me?”
Clever, clever girl.
I could lie, tell her she’ll live out her days in comfortable captivity, give her some false hope to cling to.
But something in her expression tells me she’d see through it, and lying would be an insult to the integrity she just demonstrated.
“That’s not your concern right now,” I say coldly, moving back behind my desk to reassert the power dynamic.
“Not my concern?” Her voice rises with barely controlled fury. “My future—whether I even have one—isn’t my concern?”
“Your concern is playing your role convincingly for Viktor Torrino and anyone else who needs to believe this marriage is real. Everything else is speculation.” I keep my tone deliberately cruel.
“You’re here because your father’s betrayal demands payment.
How long that payment lasts is entirely up to me. ”
I watch understanding dawn in her eyes.
Not the specifics of my plan, but the general shape of her powerlessness.
She has no guarantee of survival, no promise of eventual freedom.
Just my word that for now, today, she’s useful alive. Tomorrow, next week, next month—that’s entirely at my discretion.
Her complete lack of begging or pleading disturbs me more than hysterics would.
She just nods once, accepting the non-answer with a resignation that makes something uncomfortable shift in my chest.
“Is that all?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“No.” I lean forward, letting her see the mafia leader behind my eyes.
“I want you to understand something, Giuliana. You made the right choice by reporting Romano’s approach.
But don’t mistake that for anything more than basic self-preservation.
You’re still a prisoner here and completely at my mercy.
Whatever integrity you think you demonstrated today doesn’t change the equation between us. ”
“And what equation is that?” She’s challenging me now, pushing back despite knowing it’s dangerous.
“You’re Antonio Conti’s daughter,” I say flatly. “That’s all you’ll ever be to me. A tool to make your father suffer for what he took from me. Your personal qualities—your integrity, your courage, whatever honor you think you showed by refusing Romano—none of that matters in the end.”
It’s a lie.
Her qualities matter more than I want to admit, more than is safe to acknowledge.
But saying that would crack the carefully constructed wall between us, would admit that the revenge I’ve built my life around is crumbling because I can’t reconcile the monster I need to be with the man I see reflected in her eyes.
“You’re a monster,” she says quietly. There’s no heat in it. Just factual observation.
“Yes,” I agree, relieved she’s bought my explanation. “I am. And you’d do well to remember that.”
I turn away from her, dismissing her. “We’re done here. Danny will escort you back to your room.”
She leaves without another word, and I’m alone again with my whiskey and Marco’s face-down photograph and the uncomfortable knowledge that I just lied to her and myself about what her integrity means.
After she’s gone, I flip Marco’s photograph back over and stare at his frozen smile. I pour another whiskey.
“She won’t be around long enough for this misguided loyalty to matter,” I tell the image, but the words sound hollow even to me. “The alliance with Viktor will be secure in a few weeks, and then the original plan proceeds. Her integrity is admirable, but it doesn’t change what has to happen.”
I drain the whiskey and pour another, trying to drown out the voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Marco, asking me what the hell I think I’m doing and whether destroying an innocent woman is really the legacy I want to leave in his name.
I don’t have an answer.
And that terrifies me most of all.