Chapter 18 Luca
LUCA
The morning light filters through the gauzy curtains of our bedroom—our bedroom, because Gigi hasn’t slept in her old suite since the wedding two weeks ago—and I find myself feeling something I haven’t felt in three years.
I’m content.
Not just satisfied or temporarily distracted from grief. Actually, genuinely content in a way that feels foreign after so long living with rage as my constant companion.
Gigi is still asleep beside me, her dark hair spread across the pillow, one hand curled near her face. She looks peaceful in a way she didn’t when she first arrived—the constant tension gone from her features, replaced by something softer. Trusting.
The trust is what kills me.
I ease out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake her, and pull on pajama pants before heading to my study. It’s barely six a.m., but sleep has been elusive lately. Too many thoughts crowding my head, too many contradictions I can’t reconcile.
My phone shows a missed call from Viktor Torrino. I stare at the screen, remembering the conversation we had three days after the wedding—the one that should have felt like victory but instead sat in my stomach like lead.
Ten Days Ago
“Luca.” Viktor’s voice through the phone carries satisfaction I can practically taste. “Congratulations on your marriage. Your bride was absolutely charming at the reception.”
“Thank you.” I’m in my office, reviewing shipping manifests, trying to focus on anything other than the woman sleeping nearby who I was supposed to be planning to eliminate.
“The alliance is secured,” Viktor continues, getting straight to business in that way I always appreciate about him. “My people have already begun coordinating with yours on the North Side operations. The monopoly we discussed is within reach. Chicago will be ours within six months.”
Success. Complete, total success. Everything I’d been working toward for the alliance, handed to me on a silver platter because I’d played my part perfectly. Because Gigi had played hers, making everyone believe our marriage was real instead of a lie.
Except it was real now. More real than anything else in my life.
“Excellent,” I manage to say, my voice steady despite the way my chest constricts. “I’ll have Danny coordinate the territorial divisions.”
“One more thing.” Viktor’s tone shifts slightly and he almost sounds…
admiring. “Your wife mentioned some innovative ideas about money laundering through veterinary supply chains during our conversation at the reception. Quite brilliant, actually. You should listen to her input more often. A wife with business acumen is a rare gift.”
As the call ends, I stare at my phone, the full weight of what I’m doing crashing over me.
The alliance is secured. We’ve even started preparing for war, if the Romanos should demand it. Gigi has served her purpose. According to my original timeline, this is when I was supposed to—
I slam my eyes shut. I can’t even finish the thought. The idea of harming her, of being responsible for silencing her laugh…
It makes me physically ill.
I pour myself coffee in the kitchen, noting the fresh flowers Gigi must have had the housekeeper—Flora—arrange yesterday. White roses and something else I don’t recognize (baby’s breath? Maybe?), filling the space with a subtle fragrance that somehow makes the entire estate feel more alive.
That’s what she’s done. Made everything feel more alive. The staff smiles more and don’t scuttle around the mansion looking like they’re about to piss themselves. The estate itself seems lighter and brighter, like sunshine after a storm.
Even my men have noticed. I’ve caught them chatting with her in the hallway, showing her pictures of their families, laughing at her jokes.
She’s won them over with some combination of genuine kindness and surprising backbone—the same qualities that have completely destroyed my carefully maintained emotional distance.
Well, almost all of them.
“Morning, boss.” Danny’s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. He’s already dressed for the day in a white dress shirt and gray slacks, coffee in hand, looking annoyingly alert for six in the morning. “You’re up early.”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He settles into the chair across from me, and I can see him gearing up to say something I won’t want to hear. That’s been happening more frequently lately—Danny testing boundaries, pushing against decisions I’ve made.
“Dimitri came to me yesterday,” he says carefully, his face solemn. “Asked when we’re moving forward with ‘disposing of the complications.’”
My hand tightens around my coffee mug hard enough that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “What did you tell him?” I ask hoarsely.
“That it’s not his concern and he should keep his mouth shut.” Danny’s eyes are sharp on my face. “But he’s not wrong to wonder, is he? The Torrinos and Marchettis are aligned. By your original timeline, we should have already—”
“Enough.” I can’t get the word out fast enough. “Don’t you fucking finish that sentence.”
“Why not?” Danny leans forward, his voice dropping lower as his eyes gleam. “Because you can’t follow through anymore? Because somewhere between planning Giuliana’s death and actually getting to know her, you fell in love?”
I recoil. It’s one thing for me to be thinking it, but for Danny to actually voice it?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears.
Danny scoffs. “Bullshit.” He’s rarely this direct with me, which means he’s been thinking about this for a while.
“I’ve known you for a long time, Luca. I’ve seen you at your worst—after Marco died, during the planning of this entire revenge plot.
But I’ve never seen you like you’ve been these past two weeks. ”
I stiffen, wondering where this is going. “Like what?”
“Happy.” The word lands like a grenade, and it takes everything in me to not flinch.
“Actually, genuinely happy. Not just distracted or temporarily satisfied, but happy.” Danny shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as if he also can’t believe it.
“The way you look at her, the way you light up when she walks into a room. You’ve been smiling more in two weeks than you did in three years…
. She’s good for you, boss. Really good. And you know it.”
I can’t deny it. I can’t pretend that Gigi hasn’t changed everything about my life in ways I didn’t plan for.
“That doesn’t change,” I start, but Danny cuts me off.
“Doesn’t change what? Your responsibility to Marco’s memory? Your carefully planned revenge that was supposed to balance his death?” His voice carries an edge now. “Or maybe it changes everything, and you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand that you’re in love with her.” Danny’s voice is quiet but firm, his green eyes locked on mine. “I understand that she’s made you into someone Marco would be proud of.”
I flinch at that, but Danny continues.
“I understand that following through with your original plan would destroy the best thing that’s happened to you in years.”
I close my eyes, unable to look at Danny right now, to see the truth on his face. Because he’s one hundred percent right. Gigi has made me better—made me more like the man Marco believed I could be and less like the monster my father was.
But admitting that means admitting I’ve abandoned my quest for justice. It means accepting that three years of planning, of systematic revenge, of promising Marco I’d make things right—all of it was for nothing.
“What about Antonio?” I hear myself ask as I open my eyes to look at Danny again. “What about the man whose cowardice got Marco killed?”
“Antonio was a pawn.” Danny’s response is immediate. “You know that. Giuliana told you herself. He was coerced, beaten, and used by someone else who orchestrated the whole thing. Continuing to punish him serves no purpose except making you feel like you’re doing something.”
Fucking hell, I really hate that he’s right. The recording Gigi has backs Danny up. Now that I have this alliance, I should be shifting my focus and finding the true mastermind out there who deserves my rage far more than a broken gambling addict does.
But Gigi wasn’t able to get the perpetrator’s voice. So I’m once again chasing ghosts.
“She deserves to know her father is safe,” Danny continues, pressing his advantage. “Really safe, not just ‘recovering in a secure location.’ She deserves to know you’re not planning to kill him the moment her back is turned.”
The assumption makes me flinch because while that wasn’t the plan initially, it’s not far off. “I’m not—I haven’t decided—”
“Haven’t you?” Danny’s eyes bore into mine.
“Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve already made your choice.
You chose her the moment you started falling for her.
You chose her every time you held her instead of maintaining distance.
You chose her when you promised her a future that includes surgical specialization and a new clinic.
You wouldn’t have promised her that if you didn’t intend to let her survive. ”
“Those promises—” I stop, frustrated by my inability to articulate this tangle of contradictions. “I don’t know if I can keep them. I don’t know if I can just abandon everything I worked toward for three years.”
“Then what’s the alternative?” Danny challenges.
“You kill her? After two weeks of marriage where she’s clearly falling for you?
After she’s transformed your life and made you happier than I’ve ever seen you?
After she’s—” He stops, something shifting in his expression.
“After she’s made you into someone worthy of the empire you’re building? ”
Hitting me would have hurt less.