Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Istare at the figures on the financial report Enzo handed me, but the numbers blur together. My thoughts keep drifting back to Chicago, to Zoe.
"Damiano? Did you hear anything I just said?" Enzo's voice cuts through my thoughts.
I blink, refocusing on my brother's face. "What?"
Enzo sighs, leaning back in his chair. "The Colombian shipment numbers. They're down fifteen percent from last quarter."
"Fuck." I run a hand through my hair. "What's Rivera's explanation?"
"Something about increased border security. I'm not buying it." Enzo narrows his eyes at me. "But that's not what's interesting me right now."
"What then?"
"You." Enzo studies me like I'm one of his financial puzzles. "You've been somewhere else since you got back from Chicago yesterday. I've been talking for ten minutes, and I know you haven't heard a word."
I grab my coffee mug, swirling the cold remains. "I heard enough."
"Bullshit." Enzo leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What happened in Chicago? And don't tell me it's about the Sartori deal."
"Nothing happened," I grumble, but the lie feels obvious even to me.
Enzo's mouth curves into a knowing smirk. "It's her, isn't it? Zoe."
The sound of her name sends heat through my chest. "What about her?"
"Merda." Enzo's eyes widen. "You've fallen for her. Actually fallen for her."
"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, but the denial sounds weak even to my ears.
"Fuck, Damiano." Enzo laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I never thought I'd see the day. Not after Bianca."
I stand up, pacing to the window. Outside, rain streaks down the glass.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," I say finally, the admission tearing from somewhere deep inside me. "This marriage was business. Strategy."
"Was?" Enzo raises an eyebrow.
I turn to face him, feeling exposed in a way I rarely allow myself to be. "I can't explain it. She gets under my skin. Makes me want things I shouldn't."
"You're in love with her."
It's not a question. The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication.
I don't deny it this time.
I rub a hand over my face, feeling the weight of my brother's stare.
"Fuck," I mutter, hating how he can see through me.
Enzo leans forward, his face hardening. "Damiano, remember we have people digging deeper into her past. You need to hold on until we're sure she's not playing us."
His words hit me like ice water. "What have you found?"
"Nothing concrete yet. That's the problem." Enzo stands, joining me by the window.
"Maybe she is what she appears to be," I say, but doubt creeps in like smoke.
"Maybe." Enzo doesn't sound convinced. "But we've been in this business too long to believe in coincidences."
I turn away, memories of Zoe's body against mine still burning through my veins.
"And now you're telling me you're in love with her?"
"I didn't say that," I snap, but we both know I didn't have to.
Enzo puts his hand on my shoulder. "Just wait until our people finish their investigation. That's all I'm asking. Don't give her your heart until we know for sure who she really is."
My fingers clench at my sides, a sudden surge of heat rushing through me. "Your job is to find whatever the fuck needs to be found, Enzo. I'm not a goddamn child who needs protection."
Enzo's eyes narrow. "I'm just looking out for you—"
"Save that tone for Noah or Matteo," I snap, closing the distance between us. "But watch how you speak to me before I smack that pretty face of yours."
Something dangerous flashes in my brother's eyes. He doesn't back down—he never has. Instead, he steps closer until we're almost nose to nose.
"You can do whatever the fuck you want, Damiano," Enzo says, his voice dropping low. A sardonic smile curls his lips as he adds, "Yes, Don."
The title drips with sarcasm, but I don't miss the flash of genuine concern behind his mockery. We stand there, neither willing to back down, the tension vibrating between us like a plucked wire.
I take a deep breath, cooling the immediate flash of anger. Enzo knows how to push my buttons like nobody else. It's always been this way between us—brothers who'd die for each other but can't resist testing boundaries.
"Two weeks," I say, my voice dropping to that deadly quiet that makes even hardened soldiers nervous. "I want everything you can find on her in two weeks."
Enzo's eyebrows shoot up. "That's not enough time to be thorough—"
"I don't give a fuck." I cut him off, stalking back to my desk. "You've had your people digging for days. I know you're close to something."
"And how do you know that?" Enzo's eyes narrow.
"Because I know you." I lean forward, palms flat on the desk. "And I know when you're holding back."
A muscle ticks in Enzo's jaw. He doesn't deny it.
"Two weeks, Enzo. Not a day longer."
"And if what I find isn't what you want to hear?" he challenges.
I meet his gaze unflinchingly. "Then I deal with it. Like I always do."
Enzo runs a hand through his dark curls, frustration evident in every line of his body. "This isn't some business problem you can solve with money or bullets, Damiano. This is—"
"I know exactly what this is." My voice is steel. "But don't mistake my feelings for weakness. If Zoe is playing us, I'll handle it personally. Two weeks," I repeat. "Dig faster. Use whatever resources we have. I don't care what it costs."
Enzo stares at me for a long moment before nodding once. "Fine. Two weeks."
As he turns to leave, I add, "And Enzo?"
He pauses at the door, looking back.
"This stays between us. No one else knows until we have something concrete."
"Not even Alessio?"
I shake my head. "No one."
As Enzo's footsteps fade down the hallway, I let out a long breath and run my fingers through my hair. The tension of our conversation leaves me with a pounding headache building behind my eyes.
I press the intercom. "Daniel."
His response comes immediately. "Sir?"
"Find Lucrezia and bring her to my office. Make sure no one interrupts us."
"Right away."
While I wait, I move to the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. The sky has darkened to a stormy gray, matching my mood. I need to talk to someone who won't question my every move, who still looks at me like I hang the fucking moon.
My little sister has always been my compass when I start losing my way.
Five minutes later, there's a soft knock at the door.
"Come in."
Lucrezia pokes her head in first, those big brown eyes so like our mother's peering at me. "Daniel said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes. Come in and close the door."
She slides inside, dressed in paint-spattered overalls with her dark hair piled messily on top of her head. There's a smudge of blue on her cheek.
"Everything okay?" Her gaze sweeps over me, and I know she can read the tension in my shoulders.
"Make sure no one comes in," I tell Daniel, who nods and closes the door behind her.
I gesture toward the couch. "Relax, Lu. You look like you're waiting for me to tell you someone died."
Lucrezia settles onto the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess?" She tilts her head. "Because if we're playing twenty questions, I already have a theory."
"What theory?" I lean against my desk, crossing my arms.
A smile spreads across her face, wiping away her concern. "You and Zoe are madly in love, aren't you? And you called me here because you don't know how to process actual human emotions."
Her question hits closer to home than she could possibly know. I open my mouth to deny it automatically, but something stops me.
"Fuck." I run a hand over my face. "Is it that obvious?"
Lucrezia's eyes widen. She wasn't expecting me to confirm it. "Holy shit. I was mostly joking, but you're serious?"
"I can't speak for Zoe," I say carefully, feeling my way through unfamiliar territory. "But from my end... yes."
"Oh my God." She practically bounces on the sofa. "I knew it! The way you look at her—"
"I don't—"
"You absolutely do." She points an accusing finger at me. "Like she hung every star in the sky."
I look away, uncomfortable with how transparent I've become. "It wasn't supposed to happen."
"The best things never are," Lucrezia says softly. "Does she feel the same way?"
That's the question that's been tearing me apart. "I don't know," I admit, the words feeling like gravel in my throat. "Sometimes I think yes. Other times..."
"Mio fratello in love." Lucrezia's voice pulls me back. "I never thought I'd see the day."
I stare at the floor, trying to find the right words. "It's complicated, Lu."
"Complicated how? You love her, she loves you—what's complicated about that?" Lucrezia's enthusiasm radiates from her like sunshine.
"It's not that simple." I push off from the desk and pace across the room. "This marriage was arranged. An agreement between families. What if..." I pause, hating the words even as they form. "What if she's not who she says she is?"
Lucrezia's smile falters. "What does that mean?"
I stop pacing and face her directly. "Have you noticed anything suspicious about Zoe? Anything out of place?"
The light in my sister's eyes dims instantly, her expression hardening in a way that reminds me of our mother whenever she caught us lying.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Lucrezia stands, her small frame vibrating with sudden anger. "You call me in here to talk about your feelings, and then ask me to spy on your wife?"
"That's not what I—"
"That's exactly what you're doing!" She cuts me off, hands on her hips. "Zoe has been nothing but kind to me. She listens when I talk. She actually cares about my art. And now, what—you think she has some secret agenda?"
"Lu, I'm just being cautious—"
"No, you're being paranoid." Her voice rises. "This is what you always do. You let someone get close, and then you panic and push them away. You did it with Bianca too, before..."
She stops abruptly, knowing she's crossed a line.
I feel my face harden, jaw clenching so tight my teeth might crack. "Don't."
"I'm sorry," she says quickly, regret flashing across her face. "That was unfair. But Damiano, if you love her, why are you trying to find reasons not to trust her?"
"Because the last time I trusted someone with my heart, I found her bleeding out on our bedroom floor." I yell at her, not wanting to but I can't control it.
The silence that follows is heavy enough to crush us both.
"So that's it?" Lucrezia finally asks, her voice quieter now but still edged with disappointment. "You're going to sabotage your chance at happiness because you're afraid?"
"I'm trying to protect this family," I snap, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"No," Lucrezia says, shaking her head. "You're trying to protect yourself."
I watch Lucrezia's face crumple, her eyes filling with tears. She shakes her head slowly, as if she can't bear to look at me anymore.
"You're a coward, Damiano," she whispers. "A fucking coward."
Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and storms out of my office, slamming the door so hard the framed photos on my wall rattle. The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot.
"Fuck." I grab the first thing my fingers touch—a crystal paperweight—and hurl it against the wall where it shatters into a thousand glittering pieces.
Pain and fury knot together in my chest. My little sister has never spoken to me like that. Never looked at me with such disappointment.
I slump into my chair and bury my face in my hands. The worst part is knowing she's right. I am a fucking coward. Afraid of my own feelings, afraid of trusting anyone, afraid of losing control.
My head throbs with each beat of my heart. Everything I've built, everything I've fought for—what's the point if I can't even let myself feel something real?
I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk and take out a bottle of Macallan 18, not bothering with a glass. The burn of whiskey down my throat does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.
The irony doesn't escape me. I've eliminated enemies without hesitation, taken over territories, built an empire with blood and bullets—and here I am, brought low by something as simple as falling in love with my own wife.
Pathetic.
I take another long pull from the bottle and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Lucrezia's words replay in my mind: You're trying to protect yourself.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I am sabotaging the only good thing that's happened to me in twelve years because I'm terrified of feeling that pain again.