Chapter fourteen
Saint
The backroom of the restaurant was dim, smoke hung heavy in the air, curling up from a few cigars scattered on the small table. Whiskey sat in glasses. This wasn’t the kind of place you came to for comfort—it was where deals got sealed and bodies disappeared without a trace.
I’d rather not be there. I had to leave Aria heavily guarded. But I think I was wearing her down. Killing the Dillinger’s had shifted the way she looked at me, the way she spoke to me.
She still claimed she hated me, but when she kissed me back in that dressing room, it didn’t feel like it...
The taste of her was burned into my mind.
She didn’t want to, but she liked it.
I wondered what else she’d like.
My dick started to harden at the thought of kissing her someplace else. I’d start with—
“Excuse me, sir—”
A blonde waitress bumped into me. I scowled, barely glancing at her as I stepped around, nodding stiffly.
Luciano was already seated when I walked into the private room, his glasses sitting next to him on the table, eyes fixed on his glass of bourbon. He didn’t look up when I entered, but I knew he was aware of my presence. Luciano always knew.
I slid into the seat across from him, my chair scraping the wood floor.
His eyes met mine, cold as ever.
“You called,” I muttered, my tone low, a thread of irritation edging through. “Even though I told you I was pulling away three days ago.”
He didn’t speak right away. His gaze lingered, studying me, sizing me up.
I waited; I was used to him. He didn’t use his words often, so when he did, he was deliberate.
“Everyone knows what you did,” he finally said, his voice flat, barely above a whisper but heavy as lead. “Killing the Dillinger’s, sending out videos of you cutting off the head. Gathering that girl’s enemies, threatening them in front of everyone. She’s shown you have a weakness. You look weak.”
I leaned back, my lips curling into a smirk as I studied him.
He was trying to get a rise out of me.
But I wasn’t here to play games.
“Weak? You think I care about looking weak? Let them talk. Let them think what they want. Let them come for me, and I’ll run the streets red with their blood. Aria’s mine. And anyone who touches her will fucking die.”
Luciano didn’t react. His eyes didn’t even flicker, but there was a shift in the air.
“Your obsession will make you vulnerable,” he warned, his voice still calm. “You’re putting a target on your back. And hers.”
“She’s worth it.” The truth was, I didn’t have anything left to lose if I didn’t have her.
“You sound like a man who’s already lost. I hope she really is worth it.”
He leaned in.
“And you sound like a man who’s a hypocrite, Luciano.” I leaned in too, my voice dropping. “What about Ava?”
His hand paused mid-air, bourbon almost spilling over the edge.
“You think I don’t know why you kept disappearing during our business trip to California?” I smirked. “You followed her, watched her house all day, and it’s probably not the first time.”
I didn’t know who the woman was, but she had Luciano’s attention.
I couldn’t find out much about her, but my investigator found that he visited California often—with no reason to, other than her.
The tension between us was thick now—tangible.
Luciano lowered his hand, his glass slamming against the table, his gaze locking with mine.
“Don’t fucking say her name. I’m not you. I didn’t kidnap her. I didn’t force her,” he muttered.
I leaned back, dragging my tongue across my teeth, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded, answering my unasked question.
“Yeah, everyone knows you took her. That you’re forcing her to marry you.”
I laughed. A dark, humorless sound.
“I don’t care what everyone knows. And maybe you should take your Ava. You’re a maniac. What’s stopping you? You have power. What’s stopping you? You have the means. What’s stopping you? You want her. What’s stopping you?”
Luciano let out a slow, controlled breath.
“That’s different. Ava’s different,” he said, voice suddenly rough, like he’d just swallowed gravel. “She’s not like your Aria. She is innocent. She’s… fragile.”
“Fragile?” I raised an eyebrow, my smirk returning. “Since when do you care about fragile? Since when do you care about anything?”
His eyes narrowed at me, but he stayed silent. His face was unreadable, a stone mask hiding whatever storm was raging underneath.
Then, finally, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“You don’t understand. Ava’s not just some girl. She’s… everything.”
I tilted my head, studying him closely.
“Everything, huh?”
I could relate.
“Sounds like you’re just as obsessed as I am.”
He didn’t deny it.
The look in his eyes—that darkness—I recognized it.
“You let the world break you. You don’t think you’re worthy of Ava. You’re too wrapped up in your vengeance to even know how to live anymore. You don’t fuck, you don’t talk, you don’t feel. You’re just a boy, stuck in the past. You deserve her, but you’ll never see it until you take her.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
There was only the sound of his fingers tapping the glass.
I kept prodding.
Luciano was the closest thing I had to a friend in this life.
I wanted him to feel what I felt.
To be able to reach out and touch Ava the way I could with Aria.
I kept prodding.
“You’re considering it,” I said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re thinking about it right now.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Maybe I should.”
And then he stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he walked away.
Luciano wasn’t the type for long goodbyes. Or goodbyes at all.
I raised my hand, signaling for the waitress. Since I was out, I might as well have a drink.