Chapter 20 Luca #2
“Or what’s necessary to keep me controlled.” Her eyes flash with the defiance I’ve missed seeing. “There’s a difference, and we both know which one this actually is.”
I ignore that statement because admitting that means admitting I’m losing my grip on both the situation and my own paranoia.
“I need to know you’re protected,” I hear myself say, and at least that much is true. Even if my methods are destroying what I’m trying to protect.
“Protected from what?” She stands, tossing her silverware onto her half-eaten plate. “From your enemies? Or from my own choices?”
I don’t have an answer that won’t confirm her worst suspicions. So I say nothing, watching her storm out of the dining room with her head held high and fury radiating from every line of her body.
That night, she doesn’t come to our bed. I find her in her old suite, the door locked against me—a clear message that my surveillance hasn’t missed.
She’s pulling away. Exactly as Danny predicted. Exactly as I feared.
And I have no idea how to stop it without revealing that I’ve been watching her like a prisoner instead of loving her like a husband.
The next day, during an afternoon meeting in my office with Danny and Dimitri to discuss the territorial expansion we’ve been planning, my phone lights up with Viktor’s name. I gesture for silence before answering.
“Viktor.” I keep my voice casual even though Danny’s watching me with careful attention and Dimitri is leaning back in his chair with barely concealed impatience. “Good to hear from you.”
“Luca.” Viktor’s voice fills the room. “The merger of our operations is proceeding smoothly. Better than I anticipated, actually. Your men and mine are coordinating beautifully.”
“Excellent news.” I lean back in my chair, watching Dimitri’s expression change from impatience to sharp interest. He’s been pushing for more aggressive expansion and more visible demonstrations of our combined power.
“Indeed. Which brings me to another matter.” Viktor’s tone shifts slightly, becoming more businesslike. “We should discuss moving forward with disposing of the prisoner problem. Justice for Marco’s death, yes? It’s time to complete what you started.”
My blood runs cold, but I keep my expression neutral. Dimitri sits up straighter, his eyes locked on me with intensity that makes my skin crawl. Danny goes very still, like a predator that’s sensed danger.
“Of course,” I manage to say, my voice steady despite the way my heart is hammering. “We’ll coordinate timing and logistics.”
“Perfect. We can discuss details next week.” Viktor sounds pleased, oblivious to the tension now crackling through my office. “Give my regards to your lovely wife. Natasha mentioned she would love to get together with her soon.”
I highly doubt it. “I will. Talk soon, Viktor.”
I end the call and set the phone down carefully, already knowing what’s coming. Dimitri has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting for confirmation that I haven’t gone soft and that I remember what this was always supposed to be about.
The silence stretches for several long seconds. I can feel both men watching me, waiting for my response to Viktor’s thinly veiled directive.
“Finally.” Dimitri breaks the silence, his voice carrying so much relief that it makes me want to hit him. He shifts forward in his chair, his scarred hands spreading on the armrests. “Viktor’s right. It’s past time we moved forward with the Conti girl.”
“Giuliana,” I correct quietly, my voice coming out in a near growl. “My wife.”
Dimitri waves a dismissive hand, either missing or ignoring the warning in my tone.
“Wife, target, whatever you want to call her—she’s served her purpose.
” He leans forward, his knuckles rapping against the arm of his chair with each point.
“The men are getting restless, boss. They want to see justice for Marco. They want to know you haven’t forgotten why we started this. They want bloodshed.”
I study him with the cold assessment I usually reserve for enemies. Dimitri has been useful. He’s brutal and efficient in ways that built this empire, but weapons don’t get to question the hand that wields them.
“The men want to make sure the plan is still being followed,” Dimitri continues, oblivious to the glare that Danny’s sending him. “The plan was always to kill her first, make Antonio watch his daughter die, then execute him.”
“The men want to see justice,” I repeat slowly, my voice devoid of emotion. “And they’ll see it. When I decide the time is right.”
“But the plan,” Dimitri starts, frustration bleeding into his tone.
“The plan is mine to execute or change as I see fit.” I cut him off sharply. “And I don’t recall asking for your input on the timeline, Dimitri.”
His face flushes, anger warring with the instinct to back down when his boss uses that particular tone. “I’m not questioning you, boss. I’m just saying the men are talking. Some of them are worried you’re getting too attached to the target. That personal feelings might be compromising the mission.”
“The men,” I say dangerously, “can worry about their own assignments. And if they have concerns about my decisions, they can bring them to me directly. Through the proper channels. Not through gossip and speculation.”
Dimitri’s jaw ticks, but he nods curtly.
“As for Giuliana—” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “What happens with her is none of your concern. None of anyone’s concern except mine. She’s my wife, and how I choose to handle that relationship isn’t subject to committee review. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Dimitri says obediently, but there’s something simmering beneath the word. Resentment, maybe. Or just frustration that the plan he’s invested three years in is suddenly subject to my personal complications.
“Good.” I shift my attention to Danny, who’s been unusually quiet through this exchange. “Antonio Conti is a different matter.”
That gets Dimitri’s attention. He looks between me and Danny.
“Antonio’s betrayal still demands justice,” I continue.
I thought about this for far too long and even though Antonio wasn’t the one who ended Marco’s life, he still contributed to it.
And that still deserves punishment. “Marco’s death still requires an answer.
But the execution”—I let the word hang in the air deliberately—“needs to be handled carefully.”
“How carefully?” Dimitri asks, and I can hear the eagerness in his voice.
“Antonio will meet his end,” I say, steepling my fingers together. “But it needs to look natural. A heart attack. A complication from his previous injuries. Something that allows for closure without—” I stop, not wanting to reveal too much. “Something that doesn’t create additional complications.”
Danny’s expression shifts to something that might be relief or concern, it’s hard to tell. Dimitri just looks skeptical.
“You want to make it look like an accident,” Dimitri says slowly. “So the wife doesn’t know it was you.”
I don’t confirm or deny, just hold his gaze until he looks away first.
“When?” Dimitri presses. “When do we move on Antonio?”
“Soon.” I keep my answer deliberately vague. “I’m arranging for Giuliana to see him first. One visit, supervised. Then we’ll handle the situation.”
“Why let her see him at all?” Dimitri’s frustration is evident now, his tattooed hands flexing where they grip the chair arms. “Why give her that closure before—”
“Because I’m telling you to.” My voice drops to that quiet register that means violence is coming, and this time Dimitri recognizes the danger. “Because it’s not your decision to make. I don’t answer to you about how I choose to manage my own operations.”
The room goes silent. Danny shifts slightly in his peripheral vision, ready to intervene if this escalates further.
“Understood, boss,” Dimitri finally says, but I can hear the anger underneath. “Is that all?”
“One more thing.” I lean forward, making sure both men are paying attention.
“Giuliana is completely off-limits. To you, to the men, to everyone in this organization. Anyone who touches her, threatens her, or makes her feel unsafe in any way answers to me personally. And trust me”—I let them see the cold fury in my eyes—“you don’t want that conversation. She’s mine to do as I see fit.”
Dimitri’s teeth grind together so loudly I can hear them, but he nods. “Understood.”
“Good,” I say, satisfied. “You’re dismissed.”
He stands, his movements tight with barely controlled frustration, and stalks toward the door. Danny starts to follow, shooting me a concerned look.
They’re almost to the door when Danny stops abruptly.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and there’s something in his voice that makes every muscle in my body go tense.
I’m on my feet in an instant, rounding my desk in three strides to see what’s stopped him.
Gigi.
She’s standing in the hallway just outside my office door, a tray with coffee balanced in her hands.
But that’s not what makes me freeze. It’s her face—absolutely white, brown eyes wide with shock and something that looks like soul-deep betrayal.
And from the way she’s unmoving there, from the horror written in every line of her expression, it’s clear she heard everything.
Every. Fucking. Word.
The coffee tray slips from her nerveless fingers, shattering against the marble floor in an explosion of porcelain and hot liquid. The sound echoes through the hallway like a gunshot, but no one moves. We’re all frozen—me, Danny, Dimitri, and Gigi—locked in this terrible moment of recognition.
Her full lips part, but no sound comes out. She’s trying to speak, trying to process what she just heard, and I can see her mind working through everything with that sharp intelligence I’ve always loved and now fear.
“Gigi—” I start, taking a step toward her, my hand outstretched.
“No.” The word comes out strangled, barely audible over the ringing in my ears. “Don’t you fucking dare come near me.”