Chapter 4 – Lazaro
My office is quiet, save for the soft rustle of papers and the distant buzz of the city far below. Documents and blood-stained ledgers stretch across the carved oak table, its edges engraved with the crests of every syndicate family that’s ever mattered. This is where power breathes and bloodlines are weaponized.
I'm sitting at the head of the table, my hands steepled beneath my chin. My gaze is fixed on the crimson-sealed De Corsi contract laid bare before us—a silent declaration of war disguised as parchment.
"If the De Corsi get wind that she’s here," Lucrezia says, her voice cool and even behind her designer glasses, "they’ll invoke the blood vow. Publicly. They’ll force it through Syndicate Council and parade her like a conquest."
Riven leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "It’s not just about honor anymore. They’ll use her to consolidate old alliances and pull half the Eastern territories under their banner. That’s power, not tradition."
"And if they succeed," Lucrezia adds, "they’ll realign the council’s balance of power. The De Corsis have been looking for an excuse to reestablish dominance for years. This would give them that."
I rub my temple, trying to think of every possible thing that could go wrong. "Then we strike first. I have her now—and she’ll be mine soon."
Lucrezia raises a perfectly sculpted brow. "You’ve never faked a vow before. How exactly do you plan to make that happen?"
"We get engaged," I say simply, voice steady.
Lucrezia chuckles under her breath. "Engaged? There’s no way that girl is going to agree to that. I brought her breakfast this morning—she’s feisty. Wild. You think she’ll just smile for the cameras and play house with you?"
"She doesn’t have a choice," I say flatly. "I know her weakness."
Riven’s eyes flick toward me. "What weakness?"
"Her brother," I say. "Noel Rourke. He’s the only leverage I need."
Lucrezia and Riven exchange looks. Although both of them stay quiet, I see the judgment in their eyes. They think I’m a steel hearted bastard, and maybe I am. But I didn’t claw my way to the top of this empire with sentiment. Kindness is a myth in this world. Fear? That’s the currency. And I spend it well.
"When will the engagement be announced?" Riven asks, glancing toward the document.
"Soon," I say. "We’ll give the De Corsis just enough time to start planning their next move, and then we’ll cut them off at the knees. Make it public, make it loud. Let them choke on it."
Lucrezia nods thoughtfully. "I’ll time the press release to hit just before the next council summit. That way, they’ll be caught off guard and forced to react under pressure."
"Good," I say, tapping the edge of the table. "Get the documents in order. And Riven, I want security tightened around here. Make sure the guards stationed outside her room are the best we have—no mistakes, no gaps. You've already linked the cameras in her suite to my system, right?"
"Yeah," Riven nods. "You can access everything through the application. And like you asked—you're the only one with clearance."
I give a brief nod and open my laptop. The application sits on my desktop, waiting. A click, and eight tiny screens come to life, each one showing a different angle of Calista’s room. She's by the window, arms folded, her profile caught in the pale daylight. She looks calm—but I know better. It's been two days since she has been here, and all she's done is stare out the window. I know she's planning something. Or at least trying to.
Riven speaks again, quieter this time. "Are you sure about this? Playing the engagement card this early?"
"It’s not a card, it’s leverage," I reply, looking up from the screen. "She was promised to them. Stealing their claim undermines their legacy—it’s more than a woman. It’s a message."
"You don’t care for the girl," Lucrezia says simply, probing.
"Who have I ever cared about before? She's just a pawn."
"Just make sure she plays her part," Lucrezia says. "The Syndicate won’t believe you unless she’s wearing your ring—and acting like it."
"She’ll wear it," I say without blinking. "We’ll draft the engagement announcement—public, binding, official.”
Riven watches me from the far corner, arms folded. "You really think this move won’t backfire?"
"If it does, it won’t be because I hesitated."
XXX
I head toward Calista’s room. There’s no hesitation in me. I know exactly what this will do to her. I’ve studied her—her escape from the De Corsi, her shattered promises, her broken engagement, and the girl she used to be. The girl they ruined. If I had a heart, maybe I’d feel sorry for her.
But I don’t. I never have. And I won’t start now.
Outside her door, I pause. Not from uncertainty, but from anticipation. I want to see her reaction. Her defiance, her resistance, all of it. She’s not the first person I’ve broken, but I suspect she’ll be the most interesting.
I open the door without bothering to knock.
Calista’s lying upside down on the bed, her eyes glued to the TV with the volume cranked far too high. When she hears the door, she turns, sitting upright, but she doesn’t look away from the screen. She’s still in the same T-shirt from before, pale thighs bare beneath the hem.
I clear my throat. She holds her ground, unmoved.
“God damn it…” I mutter under my breath, striding over to her. I snatch the remote from her hand and turn the TV off.
"Hey!" she protests, her voice high with annoyance. "I was watching that!"
"This isn't a vacation," I say, my tone flat.
"Then you shouldn’t keep me here," she retorts, her eyes finally meeting mine.
"We're getting engaged," I announce without preamble.
Her face instantly freezes, then horror blooms across her features. Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, but no words come at first. Then, finally, a whisper slips out—"You bastard. You know what that means to me."
"Yes. I know everything about you. I made sure of it."
She glares at me, her fists clenching, and I watch her chest rise and fall with rapid breaths. There’s fear there, I can see it now. But there’s also anger. A lot of it.
"You can't do this," she spits, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Yes, I can." I state. "I already have."
Her eyes flash with defiance but I can feel her resolve starting to crack. She’s up against more than she can handle.
"You’re no better than them," she says, her voice trembling with anger.
I take a step towards the bed she’s sitting on. From here, I’m towering over her. "But I’m smarter than them," I reply, my voice low and deadly. "I intend to win. This isn’t personal. It’s war."
She pulls herself up onto her knees and crosses her arms. "I’m not getting engaged or married to anyone. And you can’t change my mind."
I can see the fight in her. She’s proud and stubborn but she’s outmatched. At least against me.
"Darling, if you resist, I’ll bring your brother here. And I’ll kill him in front of you,” I whisper. I pause before I add, “Just like they did to your mother."
Her face drains of color as she stares at me. There’s a mixture of fear and disgust on her face. She says nothing, but I know I’ve made my point.
Then, for the first time, I see it—her eyes well up with tears, just a faint shimmer. She wipes them away immediately, like she’s ashamed of what I’ve pulled from her.
I almost regret what I’ve said. But I bury it deep. I’m not about to let a girl’s tears affect me. She’s beautiful. But I couldn’t care less. This is all about control. And she’ll bend. They all do.
She looks away. "I was wrong. You’re worse than them," she spits out.
I pause, my expression stone-cold. "This isn’t about vows or honor. This is about strategy. And if you want your brother to survive, you’ll play the part."
Before I can react, she balls her fist and punches me square in the chest with her tattooed arm. There isn’t enough force behind it to make a dent. I take her wrist firmly, pulling her hand away before lowering myself to her level. "If you want to hurt me with your punches, you need to eat," I say.
She curses under her breath, but I see it—the crack in her armor. She’s trapped, and she knows it. There’s nothing she can do to escape. She’s mine.
"We’ll announce the engagement soon," I say, turning to leave, my voice hard. "Not yet. I want to see how you play this part. So, there will only be a small gathering for now."
"Where’s my brother?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
I sigh, knowing she won’t drop it until she gets an answer—and honestly, I don’t have the energy to fight her on this one. "He’s in Costa Rica."
Her eyes snap up, and she opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "He’s safe there. I’m keeping an eye on him. Honestly, I’d say he’s having the time of his life—beaches, sun, and probably more naked women than he knows what to do with. So, no, you don’t need to worry about him."
"I want to talk to him," she says, steady but quiet.
I scoff. "You’re not talking to anyone. And don’t even think about going behind my back—because I’ll know."
As I shut the door, the pillow hits the door behind me. She’s not broken yet. But she will be.
On my way back from Calista’s room, I nod at the guards stationed outside her door. They don’t respond, not even to my nod. Good. As I walk down the corridor toward my room, I leave them behind without a second glance. I’m alone now. The sound of my footsteps on the cool marble floor is the only thing breaking the stillness.
I stop to grab a bottle of beer in the kitchen and take a quick swing. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still see her face. The way it changed. Her body stiffened, frozen in place like prey backed into a corner. I can’t shake it, that look in her eyes. The defiance fading into fear.
That look— it was the same one my father used to provoke in people. It makes my stomach tighten, a bitter realization settling deep inside.
I’ve become him.
The thought hits me like a slap, a curse I can’t escape. Don Corrado Virelli would’ve smiled at the move I just made. He would’ve praised it, said it was exactly what I needed. Power at any cost. Fear over trust.
But I swore to myself I wouldn’t become him. I promised.
Yet, tonight, I took one more step in his shadow.
I try to shove the thought aside, pushing it to the back of my mind where it can’t hurt me. There’s no room for weakness. No space for doubts. The game is bigger than personal feelings.