2. Elio de Luca
Chapter 2
Elio de Luca
The hospital air hits me like a slap—sterile, sharp, that unmistakable scent of disinfectant that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’ve never liked hospitals. The clean, cold atmosphere, the sterile halls. It all feels too clinical, too detached.
But then I look down.
The tiny creature in my arms steals my breath away, instantly quieting the storm of thoughts and fears in my head.
“What are you?” I murmur, more to myself than to anyone else. My fingers trace a line over her soft skin, across her chubby little chin. I stroke her cheek, so smooth, like velvet, and she grunts, shifting slightly under my touch.
I rest my hand on her chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the steady beat of her heart. For a moment, I stop breathing.
I’m holding something real. Something that came from my mother, something connected to me, tied by blood, by family. Famiglia. A living, breathing miracle, fragile as glass.
Maria’s birth went well. But it wasn’t without its complications. She lost blood, more than anyone should, and had to get a transfusion. The doctors say she’ll take time to recover, but for now, she’s stable. I feel gratitude for the fact that she’s still here, that she made it through. Not because I need her, but because she needs her. My new baby sister needs her mother.
I look down at her again. She’s fuckin’ beautiful.
She’s also a reminder of the man I despise the most. Marco Falcone. Even in his death, I hate him with all my heart.
But she’s not him. She doesn’t carry his darkness or violence. She’s something pure. My little sister.
And just like that, something primal surges within me—a protective instinct so deep, it’s almost visceral. I’d burn down the world if it meant keeping her safe, keeping her from harm.
No one, nothing, will touch her. Not while I’m here.
I stare at her tiny face, her delicate features, memorizing every inch—her cheek, her almost translucent fingernails. I look at her, and my chest tightens. It’s a responsibility I’m not sure I’m ready for, but it’s one I’d die for.
She moves her eyebrows, a tiny whimper escaping her lips, and my arms instinctively tighten around her.
How did someone like Marco Falcone create something so... perfect? It’s terrifying. But maybe she’s not just his. Maybe she’s made of my mother. Of me. Of the De Luca blood.
That doesn’t make it better.
Shit.
And Vinny...
I haven’t gotten any reports on him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. He’s still out there, somewhere. A loose end, with a criminal record and a history of hurting the people I care about—hurting Nica.
I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what he’s planning. But the fact that I don’t know makes it worse. Vinny has always been dangerous, and now, I don’t know if he’s unpredictable or just lying in wait.
Heavy security’s around me, a wall of dark suits and hard eyes. All because of me. Or rather, because I’m a target. My enemies are everywhere. But now, this isn’t just about me. It’s about her. Her safety.
And I won’t fuck it up. Not again.
“Grunt, grunt.” The baby makes a soft noise, pulling me back from my thoughts.
“Welcome, baby sister,” I whisper, brushing a kiss against her tiny forehead. “You hungry?”
I look from her tiny face to my mother in the hospital bed. Her face is pale, almost translucent, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, strands of it escaping and curling around her ears.
I haven’t seen her like this… so un-perfect in years. She’s always been power suits, De Luca diamonds, and bright red lipstick. Like this, she looks almost normal, almost human.
In the last months, she’s mostly been secluded at our house, in her room, or working in the back gardens, sleeping, eating, resting, but guarded and protected at all times by my security detail, mainly Gio.
The baby is so light in my arms, barely more than warmth and breath wrapped in soft blue cotton. She stirs. I glance down at her, at the fragile life cradled against me. Her lashes flutter, her mouth forming the faintest pout.
So small. So breakable.
Behind me, my mother shifts in the bed, and my jaw tightens.
I should hate her. I do hate her. For what she did to my father, for the lies, for the betrayal that shattered the person I used to be. But then I look down at this tiny, perfect thing in my arms, and I can’t deny what she’s done—she’s given my sister life.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. “ Mama. ” The word sticks in my throat like something I shouldn’t say anymore, like a wound that’s never quite healed.
She looks drained, her face drawn. Her eyes—those same eyes that watched my father get shot—flicker to mine, and something inside me wavers.
I step closer, slow, deliberate. Careful, like this whole moment might crack if I move too fast. “Are you okay?”
She exhales, slow and uneven. “Yes,” she murmurs. “Just exhausted, that’s all.” Her fingers tremble as she lifts a hand to her forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat.
Her gaze shifts, locking onto the baby in my arms. A small, shaky inhale. Her lips part like she’s searching for words that won’t come.
Then, quietly. “Is she… healthy, Elio?”
I nod, my hand gently caressing the baby’s back. “She looks fuckin’ strong to me,” I say, a small, almost involuntary smile tugging at my lips. “A De Luca.”
This little girl already has the De Luca fire in her blood. I feel it in the way she breathes, the way she rests against me.
My mother’s eyes light up, looking back at the baby. “Good,” she breathes. “I want to name her…” she pauses, taking a moment like she’s weighing the name in her mind. “Celeste…”
I tilt my head. “Celeste.” The name rolls off my tongue like a smooth, melodic sound. Celeste. It’s not a name that I’m necessarily opposed to. I like it—it’s strong, but also gentle, just like the girl in my arms.
“Celeste means divine,” she says. “Like sent from above. From Alana, to protect all of us.” Her eyes well up.
The ache of remembering Alana, the loss that lingers in the air between us.
I nod slowly, my eyes darkening as I think about Alana. I look down at Celeste, her face peaceful, innocent.
“It’s perfect...” I whisper. Celeste. I repeat the name in my head, and I can almost feel Alana’s presence in the room, like she’s watching over us, watching over her sister. Maybe this little girl is a gift. Maybe she’s the one who can escape the De Luca name, escape the violence, the darkness that has followed us for so long.
Maybe, just maybe, Celeste can live the life Alana never got to have.
My mother sighs again, her eyes closing for a moment. I shift the baby, making sure that she is comfortable in my arms.
My eyes scan the room, assessing, calculating, cataloging every person, every exit, every potential threat.
Paranoia is a familiar guest these days.
I spot a security guard I don’t recognize, his stance a little too relaxed, his eyes darting around the room.
“Who let you in?” I ask, cutting through the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the room.
He stutters, his gaze shifting nervously. “I’m Steven’s cousin...Thomas...”
“How come I’ve never seen you around?” I demand, my eyes narrowing.
I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Not since I realized how easily people turn their backs. Not since I realized how much they lie.
“You have seen me before, Mr. De Luca,” he replies quickly, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
“Easy there,” Nica says, “It’s okay, Eli, we know Thomas. I know him.” She places a hand on my arm, bringing me back from the edge.
“Do we?” I spit out, my gaze still fixed on Thomas, studying his every move, his shifting stance, the way he keeps fidgeting with his fingers.
“Elio—” Nica says. “The baby.”
“Make sure everyone in here is supposed to be here!” I snap, as my baby sister shifts in my hands.
This hospital room and every single person inside it are my responsibility. This is about keeping my family safe, and if anyone is going to jeopardize that, I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.
I look at my sister, “You’re safe, baby girl, you’re safe,” I murmur.
I gently place her back in the bassinet, my hands shaking. The weight of my emotions is like a boulder in my chest. I clench my fist, my knuckles white with tension, like I am trying to crush something within me.
I’m losing it.
My breath is coming out in short puffs. I bang my fist against the wall, the impact sending a dull thud through the room, leaving a spiderweb of cracks in the plaster.
The baby starts crying. S hit, what have I done?
It’s just all—too much—Celeste. She’s brought into a world where her existence makes her a target. How is that fair?
I need to get out.
I turn and walk away, practically running, leaving the room and everyone inside it. I need space to breathe, to think.
Nica’s there, quick on my heels like a damn shadow. A shadow I love way too much.
“Hey, Elio, wait, look at me!” she calls out.
We’re in the hallway now, away from the sterile room, away from them. My mother, my new sister, but I still feel like I’m suffocating.
“Fuck this!” I burst out, running a hand through my hair. I pace, trying to find a way out.
I need air.
“Look at me, focus on my eyes,” Nica says, placing her hands on my cheeks. She guides my face to hers, forcing me to connect with her.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here,” I say.
I need to escape, I need to be far away from here.
“Look at me. You’re just overwhelmed. Calm down,” Nica says, her eyes locked on mine.
I clench my fists, my knuckles grinding against my palms.
“I’m fuckin’ fine, I said!”
“I know you’re scared—” Nica says, her thumb brushing against my cheek with a gentle, reassuring stroke.
“I’m not scared,” I lie, the words tasting like ashes on my tongue.
I’m dying inside. I’m about to break apart into a million pieces, and this will not end well.
“It’s not Alana—you can protect Celeste. This time, nothing will happen. I’ll make sure of it, and you will too,” she says, her eyes locking with mine. “This is what we’ve worked for this whole time. For her to be safe. And she will be.”
Nica always knows what to say.
“How can you know?” I ask.
The quiet stretches out like a violin string, ready to snap with the slightest pressure. I glance up just as a tall nurse strides past, her badge swinging like a pendulum. A stocky doctor follows close behind, adjusting his round glasses. He mutters something under his breath, rubbing his temples as if trying to push back the weight of another endless shift.
“I don’t know for sure,” Nica says, “But we’ll try our best, and that’s going to be fucking good enough. Gio will watch over her, 24/7. And Steven, too.” She’s already thinking ahead, planning, and strategizing. Somehow, her confidence calms whatever is brewing inside me.
It’s like she knows me better than I know myself.
“Right,” I say, not entirely convinced but not resistant to her suggestions either.
“It’ll be okay, Elio. Now, let’s get back and see that little baby-wonder again. I think it’s my turn to hold her.”
I almost smile. Almost.
I pull her into me, placing a hand on her back, keeping her close. My thumb brushes over her lips, and I lock onto her eyes, never looking away.
“You know I love you? Even when you’re annoying?” I murmur.
She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You call me being on your side annoying?” she says, swatting at me playfully. “Well, get ready because I’m gonna be annoyingly on your side for the rest of your life.”
Her words stick, sparking something deeper that I can’t quite put into words. I cup her face gently, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “The rest of my life, huh?” I echo, the words tasting sweeter than I expected.
Did she just say that? And, more importantly, did she mean it?
I stay silent a beat too long. She steps back slightly, her hand slipping into mine.
“Come on, let’s get back in there,” she says, “and you need to learn who the hell Thomas is, or work on your temper.”
“Right,” I stutter, realizing I was supposed to laugh. But her words— for the rest of your life —keep echoing in my head. I swallow hard, keeping my eyes straight ahead, not daring to meet hers.
Rest. Of. Your. Life.
We enter the room, and I take a deep breath, trying to regain control and lock away my emotions. I can do this; I have to. Not for me, but for her, for them.
My mother is stable, her eyes are closed, and her breathing steady. But my instincts kick in, and my eyes automatically scan the seemingly room. Thomas is still there, standing off to the side. His posture is stiff, and his gaze goes to the door like he’s waiting for something to happen.
I nod in his direction. “Thomas.”
“Mr. De Luca,” he answers.
A nurse enters, a blonde with bright eyes, carrying a tray with food.
“Where is the food from?” I ask. “Who told you to bring it?”
The nurse pauses, tilting her head slightly as if trying to piece together her response. “It’s for Mrs. Fal— Mrs. De Luca,” she corrects herself, quickly. “It’s.. just food. We give that to every patient.”
I narrow my eyes, her hesitation not lost on me.
“Calm down, Elio. She’s just doing her job,” Nica says, her hand landing firmly on my arm, a slight roll of her eyes as she steps between me and the nurse.
“I need to know,” I reply, my gaze never leaving the baby bassinet. I lean in just a little closer, making sure the baby is still there.
“You don’t need to know,” Nica says, turning toward the nurse but keeping her eyes locked on me. “Excuse him. He’s just... overprotective.”
The nurse holds my gaze a second too long. There’s something there—curiosity, maybe something else. It’s subtle, but I catch it. She quickly steps back, as if realizing she’s been caught staring. Her retreat is almost frantic, like she’s trying to distance herself from me.
Nica’s eyes flicker to the nurse, then back to me. A faint smirk pulls at her lips.
“Everything okay there, nurse?” she asks, her voice light but carrying that edge of hers.
“Uhm, everything’s fine,” the nurse says, blushing and lowering her eyes.
Nica noticed. She saw that stare.
I don’t say anything, just glance at the nurse’s hurried exit.
“You saw that, too?” I mutter, trying to play it cool. But Nica catches it, like she always does.
“I see, flirting with the nurse after telling her off. Quite the move, Mr. De Luca,” Nica says, her smirk widening.
“Nica—I—I didn’t—” I stutter, caught off guard.
“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Yet .”
I can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. I love when she gets like this—protective. It’s cute. And also a little terrifying.
“Yeah—that was obvious,” I say, pretending it doesn’t faze me. “Guess she doesn’t know how to hide her... interest.” I wink at her.
Nica raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’re so full of it,” she says, grabbing my tie and pulling me down for a soft kiss. That mouth of hers? It makes my knees go weak.
I’m definitely in trouble. Maybe for the rest of my life.
* * *
We leave the hospital after making sure my mother is feeling well. Thomas promised he’d call Steven for the night shift, and Gio showed up just as we were about to leave.
Gio’s presence calms me.
This Thomas-person, on the other hand? Not so much. Instead, I focus on the fact that Steven and Gio are here. They’re the constants. The ones I can count on, no questions asked.
I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, my legs sore, my head spinning. All I want is a moment to breathe, somewhere dark and quiet, to try to process all of this.
The hospital doors shut behind us, and I inhale the crisp air outside. It’s a relief as if the air is clearing my mind after being suffocated inside. Alive. I needed to feel that.
But all I can think about is her.
The tiny, fragile thing that came from all the chaos of last year. I want to hold her again. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, no matter what it costs me. I understand now that nothing’s the same.
Life’s changed. I’ve changed.
I look over at Nica. And for a moment I almost believe we can be happy.