7. Elio De Luca
Chapter 7
Elio De Luca
The house is quiet; the only sound is the gentle ticking of my grandfather clock in the hall. I stand by the fireplace, two champagne glasses on the side table, wishing she was here already. A sharp, possessive, selfish need to hold her overwhelms me, stealing my breath.
Snap out of it.
A sharp and insistent headache sneaks up behind my eyes as I rub the bridge of my nose, my thoughts circling back to the Broad Corporation. I barely got to a list of names leading nowhere; I found some cover-up companies, which makes the whole thing feel fishy.
There’s something more here that I am not seeing. I need to find the owner, but the task feels impossible. Whoever they are, they don’t want to be found, which makes perfect sense for a money-laundering operation. Damn.
The front door opens, and Nica enters, shaking me out of my thoughts. She looks beautifully disheveled, like she’s been through a hurricane, and somehow came out even more beautiful. Her dark hair is tangled, falling across her eyes. She steps inside, her gaze meeting mine, and I reach for her.
“There you are,” I say and greet her. I pull her close and plant a soft kiss on her lips.
My fingers brush something damp and sticky on her elbow, and a cold dread runs through me. Is that blood?
I cup her face, studying her elbow, my thumb tracing the area. “Are you hurt?” I ask.
She leans in, grabbing my suit, her fingers curling in the fabric. “I’m fine,” she murmurs, pushing my hand away. “I need you, Elio, now.” She leans in, meeting my lips with that fire I love.
She’s distracting me.
I manage to push her back. “Are you okay? What happened?” I ask, my hands gripping her shoulders.
“Yes, I just need…release,” she whispers, her eyes dark, pleading.
“Hey,” I say, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet my eyes. “I love it when you get like this, but let’s breathe. Tell me what happened. Now .”
My jaw clenches.
She lets out a slow sigh. “Everything happened. It’s—messed up.”
I hold her face between my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks. Her lip is swollen, a bead of blood clings to the corner, and her eyes are puffy.
“What is?” I ask softly, my thumbs tracing the curve of her cheekbones.
“Everything. My mom, Tuvio…”
“ Tuvio did this to you?” I bark.
What the hell?
“No, no!”
I wait patiently, letting her gather her thoughts. My hands still stroke her cheeks, waiting for her to continue.
“So?” I ask. “What happened?”
I want to punch someone or something for doing this to her.
“I followed Tuvio. I was paranoid,” she admits, finally meeting my gaze. “Turns out he didn’t do anything. Well, he did do something, but nothing bad. I followed him to the Broad Corporation building. He’s in AA.”
I tilt my head, my eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? My uncle is an alcoholic? You sure?”
I didn’t see that one coming.
She nods and looks down.
“And the bruise?” I ask, my tone suddenly sharp, my eyes narrowing on her bloodied lip and down to her elbow.
“Someone threatened me… at the Broad building,” she says, her voice catching.
“Someone?” My blood spikes. The thought of her in danger makes my fists clench. I can’t stop them from tightening, loosening, tightening again.
“Please, just let it go, Elio…” she says, eyes cast down. “I’m okay.”
“I’m going to kill whoever did this to you.”
“I’m fine. Really. It was probably a mistake—someone mistook me for someone else.”
“You’re not telling me everything.”
“Please,” she whispers, “just let it go.”
“Never.”
“For now then. I don’t know who it was, okay?” Her voice trembles, but there’s honesty in it.
I stay silent, swallowing back the urge to shout, to tear the whole damn city apart.
Instead, I pull her close and kiss her—gently, focused on her split lip. She tastes like fire and something sweeter underneath. Then I draw back, keeping her at arm’s length, my hands gripping her shoulders.
“What happened after?”
“I went to see my mother…” Her voice steadies just a bit.
“How was it?” I ask, jaw tight as I try to hold myself together, barely holding back the storm inside me.
Why does she always do this? Put herself in harm’s way? Make decisions without telling me?
I should be used to it by now—but I’m not. And it makes my blood simmer.
“Weirdly awkward,” she says, her voice soft, eyes dropping to her hands. “And a tiny bit… nice?”
“Nice, huh?” I arch a brow.
She looks up, meeting my eyes. “I don’t know. It was just… okay, you know? Meeting someone who’s actually family—I’ve missed that.”
“Just stuck with my lot instead?” I smirk. I’m not hurt. I get it.
“Hey.” Her tone shifts. In a heartbeat, she goes from serious to playful, framing my face with her hands. “I love you and your messed-up family. Well—” She pauses, eyes glinting. “I don’t love Vinny, but the rest are great,” she adds with an eye roll.
“Speaking of the devil... I was with Vinny earlier,” I say.
Her smile fades. She straightens beside me, gaze sharp. “And?”
“Mother wants him to meet his new sister…”
My voice drops, flat and bitter. The idea of Vinny—that monster—anywhere near my little sister turns my stomach.
She stops running her fingers through my hair, her eyes widening, and anger flashes in her eyes. “Celeste? You’ve got to be kidding me, Elio, that’s fucked up.”
“I know, Nica. He deserves nothing,” I groan.
“But…?” she asks, her gaze searching mine.
“But if he has information that can protect us… protect you… protect Celeste…” I let the sentence hang in the air, the weight of what I’m willing to do settling between us.
My hand goes to her cheek. But I can feel the tension building beneath her skin, the barely contained rage threatening to explode.
“No,” she hisses and turns her back to me, cutting off the contact.
“You heard him, Nica. Vinny was… scared. I’ve never seen him like that. They’re coming after him, after us,” I say..
“Who is?” she asks, her back still turned, her body rigid.
“ Someone … What happened at the building? Maybe it is connected?” I ask, gently taking her arm and carefully turning her around to face me again. “Please, Nica, don’t fight me on this. I’m trying to keep you safe, damn it.” My grip tightens on her arm.
Nica looks down, avoiding my gaze, her expression unreadable. What’s she not telling me? What’s she holding back?
“Maybe…” she stutters, “Maybe you’re right, maybe Vinny is telling the truth, maybe someone is after us. “Finally, her eyes meet mine.
“What happened at Broad today?” I growl. I have an urgent need to protect her; it’s like a raging inferno in my blood. I cup her face, running my thumbs across her cheeks. “What are you not telling me?”
Nica finally breaks down and tells me about a hooded man, an encounter in the garage, and how he seemed to know her. I clench my fists, my jaw tight. Someone touched her and threatened her, and I wasn’t there to protect her. The rage burns inside me like molten lava.
“Did he say something? What did he look like?” I ask, the words clipped.
“He told me to fuck off,” she says, “said that siding with you, with the De Lucas, is wrong.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah, that’s all.”
I look toward the window, my mind racing. Who the hell was that? And what did he want from her other than scare her away from me?
“Wait,” she says suddenly.
“What is it?” I ask, my attention snapping back to her.
“He said something else… It was weird,” she shivers as if the memory causes her physical pain. “He said, Galli in, Galli out … I don’t know what he meant…”
I tilt my head, my jaw tight as I imagine a hundred ways to kill the man.
I wrap my arms around her. She leans into me, and I involuntarily harden.
“I’ll fucking find him and make him pay,” I groan against her hair, my grip tightening, my hands digging into her back.
Protect her, protect her, protect her—the mantra drums in my skull.
“We’ll find him,” she whispers, her body pressing against mine, claiming me just as much as I’m claiming her.
Then her lips meet mine—fierce, almost desperate.
There’s a sound—a soft knock at the door—but I barely register it.
I’m lost in her. The heat of her. The taste of her anger.
Just Nica—raw and electric—pulling me under, making me want to forget everything else.
To throw her against the nearest wall and take her.
The knock comes again.
Then the door creaks open. Light floods the room.
And a voice slices through the tension like a blade.
“Can I watch?” Vinny says, his silhouette framed in the doorway, flanked by Gio, who’s holding a gun like it’s just part of his outfit.
I whip around, jaw tight. Vinny’s grinning like he owns the damn place.
“Seriously, brother?” I say, shaking my head.
He shrugs, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “She’s hot. What do you want from me?”
His eyes stay on Nica like he doesn’t give a damn that I’m right here.
“You didn’t change at all, did you?” I say, locking eyes with him—warning clear.
Gio leans on the frame beside him, arms crossed, the quiet enforcer, letting Vinny run his mouth while keeping everything just this side of chaos.
“Not down here,” Vinny says, gaze flicking over Nica again. He runs a hand down his groin, grinning. “Up here, maybe.” He taps his temple.
“Liar,” I bite out, every muscle coiled. My eyes stay on Vinny, not blinking. My whole body screaming one thing:
Back. Off.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I growl.
Vinny raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding, dear brother.”
But his eyes never leave Nica.
I can’t trust him. But I need him.
“Did you want something?” I ask, eyes still locked on Nica—wanting her, needing her—though the question’s aimed at Vinny.
“Nothing,” he says with a shrug. “My watchdog’s just taking me for a stroll.” He jerks his chin at Gio.
“Sorry,” Gio mutters, tone low. “Didn’t know you were in here…”
I give him a curt nod.
“Get lost, Vinny,” Nica snaps, her eyes blazing.
I don’t let Vinny get to me.
Instead, I move.
I sweep Nica up into my arms—easily, naturally, like her body belongs there. Like it always has.
My stance is solid, a steel wall between her and Vinny. I won’t let anyone get close. Not now. Not ever.
“Excuse us,” I say, voice a low groan, never breaking eye contact with her.
I carry her out, every step deliberate, claiming her with every breath.
“We have some… unfinished business upstairs.”
She’s mine.
Always has been.
Always will be.
And I’ll destroy anyone who even thinks about threatening her.
* * *
We reach the bedroom, and I kick the door shut behind us.
The room’s dim, the curtains pulled tight. The air smells like sandalwood and worn leather. The bed’s a mess—silk sheets tangled, the dark wood frame heavy and familiar.
She looks at me—eyes locked, burning. That look wrecks me every time.
There’s no hiding in it. No turning back.
Her mouth is full, parted just slightly. Waiting. Tempting.
I take the back of her head, firm but gentle, and pull her in.
She melts into the kiss, her arms wrapping tight around me, her body pressed close.
I deepen it, letting it turn rougher, needier—letting her feel everything I’ve been holding back. The fire, the ache, the fucking chaos she stirs in me.
She sets something off in me—wild, uncontrollable.
I don’t know if I can stop.
But I don’t want to.
I need her.
Now.
She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. Then, deliberately, she pushes the fabric of her blouse down, giving me a glimpse of her breasts. She takes my hand and guides it over the soft curve of her chest as I kiss her again, the contact setting me on fire.
The pressure inside me threatens to explode with just a touch, just a look.
I grab her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, and lift her in one swift motion. She wraps her legs around me, her thighs tight against mine as I press her against the wall.
“You’re so fuckin’ perfect, I can’t control myself around you,” I growl as my hand slips up under her skirt. “You’re so soft–”
I can feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle signs of her arousal.
“Don’t control it,” she moans into my mouth.
My hand strokes further up her thigh in a gentle exploration, as I look at her. Her long and strong legs are wrapped around me, holding me captive. She tilts her head back.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I groan. “I’ll destroy you.”
She’s so damn beautiful it aches. I try to memorize every inch of her—the curves, the dips, the softness. Etching her into my memory.
“You already have,” she says, her voice thick.
I pause, noticing something in her eyes. Are they wet? I gently cup her face, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Hey,” I murmur, lifting her chin to meet my gaze. “Are you okay?”
She nods, but there’s a break in her voice as she wipes away a tear. “Yes,” she says, but it cracks something in me.
“Nica,” I say softly, pulling back just a little, my hand lingering on her cheek.
“I’m just… so fucking happy,” she says, her voice raw, and then bangs her hand against my chest. “You make me happy. Fuck, you make me… feel everything.” She sniffles.
“I always will,” I growl, my heart pounding with a need I can’t control. “No one gets to you but me. Not now, not ever.”
“I love you,” she says, her eyes wide, her voice trembling. “Like… shit, Elio, you’re everything.”
“Damn right I am,” I snap, my voice low and possessive. I pull her closer, almost crushing her against me. “You’re mine. All of you.”
Her eyes darken again as she presses herself against me, her body grounding me in a way I didn’t even know I needed.
“Now, where were we?” She smirks.
“Right here,” I say, claiming her lips again, my gaze possessive as I lift her up, kissing her deeply.
“Right,” she moans against me.
“I’ll need to remove some of your clothes,” I say, and bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent of cinnamon.
I can feel her body tense, poised, and ready as I slowly kiss the soft spots on her neck. Her breasts are full, the nipples hard and erect, straining against the thin fabric of her shirt. Begging for my touch.
I grab her hair, pulling her back so she arches against me, exposing the curve of her throat, and my kisses become slower, lower, moving down her chest, lingering on the soft skin above her shirt. I press my hardened cock against her, and she freezes, her breath catching in her throat.
“Fuck, yes,” I murmur and grab her nipple between my thumb and index finger, slowly massaging it in circular motions.
“Oh, Elio,” she pants as her kiss becomes more needy.
I groan against her mouth and kiss her harder, forcing my tongue deeper. She gasps, pushing closer, meeting my intensity with her own. She’s unapologetic in her needs and her desires, grabbing onto me.
I can feel myself teetering on the edge, about to explode with just her kiss. Her moans are breathy and soft.
She bites her lip, and the sight of her swollen lip and her dark eyes nearly sends me over the edge. The urge to be inside her, to lose myself in her completely, becomes overwhelming. I carry her across the room, my steps driven by pure instinct until we reach the bed.
I put her down on the bed but keep her legs in the air while I slip off her panties. I discard them on the floor.
“We don’t need these,” I say hungrily, running my thumb from her knee up her thigh until I reach her apex.
She presses herself up against me as I find her clit with my finger. I gently nip it and move closer with my head until I’m inches from her entrance. The scent kills me, sweet and brooding… I run my tongue over her pink folds, ending at her clit.
I hear her moan, respond to me, and push herself against me as I bury myself between her legs. Her wetness is like a glistening heaven, my favorite place is between her legs.
I can feel her body tense as I run my tongue over her clit in a faster rhythm now. My other hand runs up her shirt, and with a hefty motion, I rip off her blouse and pull down her bra. My hand finds her breast, and this time, I’m not gentle.
Fuck no.
I flick her nipples as she arches against me, wanting more. In response I take a nipple between my fingers, pulling, rubbing, and extending it just hard enough to get a moan but not hurting her, too much.
Judging by her panting, she’s getting closer to coming.
“Go on,” I encourage as I eat her warm, sweet pussy. “Do you like surprises, Nica?”
She nods, unable to answer. Her body is shaking now, trembling under my torture.
Without asking, I drive four fingers into her wet channel, but quickly pull out. She lets out a gasp, “Oh fuck—”
Then I slip two fingers into her tight hole. Oh fuck, it’s tight and warm. Damn it. My cock gets harder, needing release. But it’s her turn first.
She whimpers as I push myself deeper inside of her, her tightness closing around my fingers as I rhythmically go in and out, finger-fucking her anally.
Shit, she’s so beautiful like this, ready, sweating, wet, enjoying my dark pleasure as I play with her body. Make her twist and turn under my touch. Her exposed nipples are rosy red and swollen. All I want to do is slam my cock into her until she screams in pleasure.
Soon, Elio, be patient.
I keep going, pushing and teasing with my tongue until she grabs my back, and her whole body shakes like a fucking earthquake, and a scream rips from her lips, “Shit, Elio—I’m coming.”
And she tenses up, waves of pleasure pulse through her shaking body as I suck her clit like a lollipop; keeping the tension. I’m shoving my finger deep into her darkness as she clamps around me. I don’t let go. I keep punishing her clit until it’s sore, until the last wave of release pulses through her.
She’s so perfectly imperfect.
As she slowly relaxes her body, she looks at me intensely. “That was—shit—” she catches her breath, “amazing.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes raking over her red and ready body. “We’re not done yet.”
I release my belt, dropping my pants to the floor. My cock stands like a soldier, ready to take what’s rightfully his. And she is.
“You’re mine—” I state. “Fucking forever.”
“Always,” she says and spreads her legs further like an open invitation for me to admire her perfectly glistering pink folds.
Without further foreplay, I let my lower parts do the thinking for me and run my hand over her pussy. With two hands, I pull her closer to me and lift her slightly up in the air while I spread her butt cheeks. I lift her to lick her entrance before lowering her to meet my hardness. And then I impale her on my hardened cock, entering what’s mine. Fuck, it feels good to slide inside. She’s warm, wet, and perfectly meeting my thrusts.
She throws her head back and moans and purrs like a fucking good kitty cat, taking me without hesitation. Her long, dark hair, slightly wet, slings down the bed.
She’s so fucking hot.
Her full breasts bounce at each thrust, making me grab and squeeze them until it leaves a mark. I know that. But she smirks and takes it.
“Fuck, Nica—you fucking love this.”
She nods, pouting her mouth. “Punish me, Elio, please. Hard.”
And I do. I slam into her deeper and faster. “You asked for it—”
“Mmhmm—” she says, her lips tighten as she takes the pain with the pleasure. All the darkness in me that matches her darkness perfectly.
I can’t take it anymore; I need release inside her. Now.
And then I erupt, letting myself go.
“Yes—” I growl as I press deep inside her. I bury my teeth in her thigh to muffle the sound I want to make. I know it’ll leave a mark, too, but I don’t care. The other hand comes down hard, slapping her breast, then finding a nipple to twist and turn while waves run through me like a fucking broken dam.
I think I’ve died and gone to heaven in that moment. Us. Her. Here. Together. This is perfection. I don’t need anything else in life.
I pulse again, letting my cum deep inside her, making sure she feels it, feels me.
Then I let myself go limp, falling over her on the bed, impaled still, used by me. Her breath is still ragged, and so is mine.
As I finish, emptying myself inside her, I find that soft spot on her neck and kiss it slowly.
“You’re fucking mine,” I whisper against her ear, my voice rough, possessive.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” she whispers back, her breath ghosting against my skin.
I pull back, needing to see her face. “Of course, you have a choice,” I say, my heart pounding, fear coiling in my gut. Shit, does she not want this? Am I pushing too hard?
My jaw tightens, and a surge of panic runs through me. I pull back, about to give her space, and let her leave, but then she grabs my face, her hands framing my jaw, forcing me to meet her intense gaze.
“I don’t have a choice because I love you,” she says, her voice raw, honest, and bone-achingly vulnerable. “I’ve never loved so hard or so fierce.” She pauses, biting her lip, her eyes shimmering. “And it’s fucking scary.” Her gaze drops, almost embarrassed.
I relax, the tension draining from my shoulders, replaced by a wave of deep tenderness that nearly knocks me off my feet. “Don’t be scared,” I say softly, stroking her lips with my thumb. “I got you. Always.”
“Until you get tired of me—” she starts, a haunting insecurity creeping into her voice.
Where the hell does that come from? I fight to keep my voice steady. “I’m yours, Nica. You have me wrapped around your little finger,” I say. “I love everything about you. You’re strong, you’re funny, a little annoying,” I grin, “very capable, and a fuck-show in bed.”
She giggles, the sound chasing away the shadows in her eyes. Those beautiful, dark eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I see everything – her strength, her vulnerability, and the damn fire that burns between us.
“A fuck-show, huh?” she asks, the corner of her lips pulling up.
“And I got season tickets,” I say. Cupping her face in my hands, I trace her cheekbones, I let my gaze soften, pouring all my hope and dark heart into her. “I love you, Nica. Marry me.”
I have no idea why I said that, it just came out.
Her eyes widen, and the playfulness vanishes, replaced by something that looks suspiciously like shock. “What?”
Shit. But I can’t take it back. It’s too late. I don’t want to take it back.
“Fucking marry me, Nica. Make me whole. I love you with all of my fucking dark heart,” I say, laying bare my damned soul and putting it in her hands.
She distances herself slightly, her brow furrowed, her gaze searching mine. For a long, agonizing moment, I have no idea what she’s thinking or will say. But I don’t regret it. Never have, never will.
I’ve never felt so fucking exposed in my life.
“Your pants are still down, Elio!” she gasps, a shaky laugh escaping her lips, and I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.
“So…is that a yes?” I ask, my heart pounding against my ribs, suddenly terrified of the answer.
I pull up my pants, fumbling with the zipper, as she reaches out and straightens my shirt. We sit close on the bed, the silence stretching between us. “Well?” I prompt.
She leans in, her gaze on me, and places a soft kiss on my lips. Her touch is electric, setting my veins on fire. “That’s a hell-yes,” she says.
“A fuck-yes?” I say, my voice thick with emotion as I draw her close, holding her tight against me.
“A fuck-yes it is.”
“I’ll never let you go.”
“I was kinda hoping you’d say that,” she giggles.
That laugh of hers.
She giggles and kisses me, and all I can do is stare at her, a fierce, possessive pride filling my chest.
* * *
The bedroom is still steaming. “Her ‘ hell yes’ ,” lives rent-free in my head, like a melody I want to protect. My throat’s sandpaper dry, and I imagine hers is too.
“Water?” I ask.
Nodding, she slips on silky pajamas that, if possible, make her look even better.
“Yes, please, fiancé,” she grins.
“Done and done,” I groan; her words make my defenses melt.
I pull on sweats, and the cool cotton is a relief. Downstairs, the polished marble chills my bare feet. Mrs. Gambini has been stress cleaning, that’s for sure. I push through the kitchen doors. The usual scent of bread hangs in the air.
To my surprise Vinny sits hunched over the island, crumbs clinging to his stubble, there’s a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Angelo and a new guard stand sentinel, their faces arre carved from granite. I’m surprised they let him eat a sandwich that close to them with those filthy hands.
Vinny chews, swallows, doesn’t look up. “Couldn’t sleep? Or did your princess keep you awake?” he mumbles.
I ignore him, grabbing two bottles of water. I’m not here to chat. He’s a viper and his company is poison.
“Shut up, Vinny,” I mutter, grabbing some salty snacks.
I’m almost out of the kitchen when he clears his throat.
“Look, Elio. I wanted to say… about. With Nica…” He finally meets my eyes, but they dart away, landing on something just past my shoulder. “I just wanted to fuckin’ apologize.”
The water nearly slips. Apologize? For assaulting her a year ago? I tighten my grip, the plastic crinkling under the pressure.
“Are you joking?”
“No, brother. I’m dead serious.”
He’s lying.
“What changed your mind, then?”
He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “Realizing I’m a fucking ass isn’t enough for you?”
“Hell no,” I say.
His jaw tenses. “I just… felt alone, okay? I got tired of the games, the killing, the—everything.”
The silence stretches between us. Is it a confession, or just another move in the game?
“Apology accepted.” The words taste like acid. A lie. I don’t forgive him. I never will. But I don’t have time for this—I want to get back to Nica. We’re fucking engaged.
He shakes his head. “No. You don’t get it. You don’t have to forgive me. You shouldn’t. No one should.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. Guilt? Or a performance? “Just… just wanted you to know I meant it.”
“You think saying sorry makes it go away?” I hiss.
“I’m not stupid, fratello. Nothing will make that go away,” he replies, finally making eye contact. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice.
Another silence, thicker than before. Inside, the fragile melody swells. She said yes.
Vinny’s eyes narrow. “What the hell is that look? You look like you won the lottery. The Shadow King doesn’t win the lottery.”
I can’t help it. My lips twitch. “Nica and I are getting married.”
Vinny’s face goes slack. He coughs and sprays water across the island. “Married? What in the holy fuck?”
“Yeah,” I say, and I can’t keep my lips from curling upwards.
“Someone get the celebratory whiskey…”
I scoff. “I love your sarcasm.”
“Shit, I’m happy for you.”
“Happy or are you just trying to be civil?” I say, but the words don’t have the bite I want.
“I’m pleased,” he says, and for a second, I almost believe him. “But the fucking smile? Annoying as shit. Wipe it off. Elio De Luca doesn’t smile.”
I reach for the decanter, the amber catching the light like blood in the sun. I need this. I pour two heavy measures into the lowball glasses, the liquid sloshing thick and slow. I slide one across the island to Vinny.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“Just shut up and drink.”
We down it in silence, the whiskey burning a familiar path down my throat—sharp, unrelenting.
But the fire doesn’t melt the ice in my chest. Not when it comes to Vinny. I watch him, waiting for a flicker—envy, hate, anything.
Nothing. Just… weariness. And somehow, that’s worse.
Finally, I break the silence. “Wanna go to the hospital?” I ask, my voice carefully neutral. “See our new sister?”
My mother wanted it, and he’ll be protected, by me.
I rub the tea cup tattoo unconsciously while I think about Alana. Celeste is not your replacement, I repeat in my mind.
Vinny’s gaze flicks to Angelo, then to the new guy, Marco, then back to me. “Now?” He swallows. “Is this a test?”
I shrug. “It’s something.”
He studies me, like he’s trying to solve an equation. “So… am I forgiven?”
I snort. “Hell no.”
Then quieter: “But I believe you. About someone targeting our family.” I meet his eyes, letting the weight of it sink in. “And I need you. I need your brain, your dirt, your paranoia—whatever you’ve got. Because I’ll burn the world to keep Nica and that baby safe.”
The word baby still feels foreign in my mouth. A sister I never expected.
Vinny nods, slow and deliberate. “Alrigh’.”
I grab my phone, scrolling through contacts. “Let’s go.”
Angelo is already moving, silent and efficient as always.
I’m already dressed to go— jeans, button-up rolled at the sleeves that I never took off upstairs. My boots are at the door.
I snatch my jacket from the rack, then the Glock 17 from the drawer beneath it.
Habit. Ritual. Comfort.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick text to Nica:
‘Love you, fiancé. Be back soon. Someone will bring the water to your room.’
I almost add a winking emoji. My thumb hovers, then I delete it.
I’m not fucking five—
Even if she makes me feel like a damn kid again. Light. Giddy. Reckless.
The word ‘fiancé’ sits weirdly in my hand. I send the message anyway. A fragile, beautiful word in a world of blood and shadows.
I instruct the night butler to bring Nica water, he nods curtly and moves upstairs.
I slide the phone into my pocket, jaw set. Time to move. We’re out the door quickly, plunging into the cool night air.