20. Domenico
Chapter 20
Domenico
G uillermo and I meet one last time before Cassio arrives. We have the plan ready. There are no more doubts in our minds that this can happen. And it will happen.
We’re in the stables, late, lantern light flickering off old stone. It’s the darkness that offers a cover for us, and there aren’t any cameras. We have been taking too many chances, and I can’t afford to put Lia in danger.
Guillermo lights a cigarette with the kind of casual flick that says he’s done this too many times to care about lungs or rules. We’re behind the large concrete wall that hides the house from the stables, where no one from the villa bothers to look. I’m pacing in the dirt, boots kicking up dry earth, while the horses snort behind us like they know something’s coming.
He exhales slow, watching the smoke curl. “You going to stop pacing and tell me why you dragged me out here like a confession’s about to drop?” The man can read signals, body movements, everything. He’s good. That’s why he’s been Lia’s bodyguard for such a long time.
I stop, plant my hands on my hips, glance around once more just to be sure. No guards. No Marco. No shadows listening through the olive trees.
Then I say it. “I called my cousins.”
Guillermo straightens just a little. “From New York, the Montesanos?”
“Yeah. I think we may need them. They’re aware of who Lia is and they’re still willing to help. But I can’t tell her, not yet.”
He takes another drag, expression unreadable. “And they’re willing to keep her alive? They know she’s a Vitale.”
“They have no choice,” I say. “They know I’m in love with her. The wedding day is the only window we have. Everyone will be distracted. Cassio will be busy playing proud cousin. Ignacio will be stuck in the spotlight. And Lia…” I pause. My voice tightens around her name.
Guillermo raises an eyebrow. “What about her?”
“She wants to burn the house down.”
He lets out a dry laugh, then coughs once through the smoke. “Figuratively or literally?”
I shrug. “Both, I think. She said it while she was trying on a veil. She was deadly serious.”
“That sounds like her,” he mutters. “So what’s the plan?”
“My cousins are bringing firepower. Two are ex-Carabinieri—trained, quiet. The other one’s a mechanic, good with explosive triggers. Not a full crew but enough to cause chaos while we pull Lia out.”
Guillermo’s cigarette burns lower. “You sure about them?”
“They’re blood,” I say, though that’s not the same as saying yes. “They don’t like Mosca any more than I do. They lost someone to him too.” I don’t want to delve into my family secrets, but he needs to know these men will keep Lia safe and that’s the only thing that matters to me.
He nods slowly, the lines around his eyes tightening. “So this is it. Wedding day becomes war zone.”
“Unless something goes wrong.”
Guillermo gives me a long look. “Something always goes wrong.”
I grin without humor. “Yeah. But this time, we’re planning for it.”
He flicks the cigarette into the dirt and crushes it under his boot. “And Lia? She know exactly what you’re doing?”
“She knows enough. I will see her again before we get everything rolling, and I’ll explain what I can. I just don’t want her to be panicking before because that will only cause Ignacio to become suspicious. More than he is. She’s a firecracker, and I don’t want her going off before we’re ready.”
Guillermo snorts. “That girl…”
“She’s not going to stay trapped in that house. Not one more day.”
He looks at me for a long moment before nodding. He doesn’t want her here either. I don’t understand why her father ever agreed to this shit marriage. “And the house?” Guillermo asks me then.
I hesitate. “If she gets her way, it’ll burn.”
He looks me over again, measuring me. “You really in this? All the way?”
“I’m already past the point of no return.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder, grip strong. “Then let’s make sure it ends how she wants.”
I nod. “We bring her out. We burn the past behind her.”
Guillermo grins, just a flicker of teeth. “You and your cousins better not screw this up. Because if you do, I’ll be the one digging your grave.”
“Fair enough.”
We both turn toward the villa—its white walls catching the silvery glimmer from the moon. So pristine, so silent. It won’t stay that way for long.
She wants it in ashes.
I’m going to give it to her.
I don’t hear the door until it clicks shut behind me.
Too late.
I freeze, fingers still pressed to the underside of Ignacio’s desk drawer where I just felt the hollow space. My heart kicks once, hard against my ribs, and I know I’ve been caught. I didn’t think anyone would be up and about this late into the night, but before me, I see the man who watches me like a hawk. I slide my hand out slowly, smooth my expression, and turn.
Marco leans against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, and his eyes are sharp as he watches me. “Didn’t expect to find the bodyguard in the Boss’s chair.”
He’s not smiling.
I match his look with one of my own, relaxed but not casual. “Didn’t expect the Boss to leave his office unlocked.” I shrug it off, but the tension in the room is thick and heavy.
Marco walks in, slow and deliberate, like he’s stepping into a crime scene. “You lost, Nico?”
“Just waiting for Ignacio. He told me to meet him here at midnight. Thought he wanted to speak privately without anyone eavesdropping. Said he had a change in security protocol for the wedding. Thought I’d wait inside.”
“Uh-huh.” He glances at the desk. “And the drawers?”
I shrug, chuckle, hoping it sounds nonchalant, and say, “I got bored.”
He doesn’t laugh. He walks behind me, casually, like a shark circling a swimmer. “You’ve been with Lia a lot lately.”
“She’s my assignment.”
“She’s also not yours ,” he adds after I look at him. The man is wary. I don’t blame him, but I also want him gone. I’ll gladly end him here right now, but that will only raise more eyebrows. I have to play my role too.
I tilt my head slightly, just enough to keep him in my periphery. “Funny. She doesn’t seem to think she belongs to anyone.”
That earns me a pause.
He stops beside the window, backlit by moonlight, watching me like he’s waiting for something to crack. I don’t move. Don’t blink.
“Where are you from again?” he asks suddenly.
I give him a look. “New York.”
“Yeah, I remember. But where exactly?”
Shaking my head, I smile before looking at the floor, then up at him once more. He’s fishing for answers, for information, but he won’t get it from me. “Near Brooklyn.”
He squints as he assesses me. “You ever work in Long Island?”
“No.”
“Ever come to Italy, perhaps Palermo?”
I shake my head once. “You always this chatty?”
He smiles, slow and thin. “Only when someone’s acting like they’ve got something to hide.”
I settle into the armchair that overlooks the desk, giving me an easy view of Marco as he leans against the window. I allow my arms to drape over the sides like I own the place. “You think I’m hiding something, Marco?”
“I think you’re the kind of guy who shows up with clean papers and no history and somehow gets handed the most valuable piece in the house.” And there it is. It’s not about me, it’s about Lia. He’s jealous.
“Lia’s not a piece.”
He looks at me, long and level. “Then what is she to you?”
That’s the wrong question.
That’s always the wrong question.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “She’s my job.”
He tips his head to the side, this time narrowing his gaze as he asks, “You sure about that?”
“Are you?” I throw back quickly, easily. There’s no tension in my tone because I’m more in this role than I have been in a long while.
We hold the silence between us like a blade, sharp and waiting to drop. I don’t flinch. He doesn’t press. He’s still watching, but he doesn’t see it—that in my jacket lining is a folded envelope of names, dates, codes. The list my father wants. The one that could burn Mosca to the ground.
After a beat, Marco walks to the desk, runs his hand over the polished wood, then looks down at me.
“Ignacio doesn’t like people touching his things.”
I smile. “Then he shouldn’t leave his door unlocked.”
He studies me one more time. I meet his eyes, steady, unblinking.
Finally, he steps back. “Just keep your hands where they belong, Nico. And your eyes off things that aren’t yours.”
He walks out and shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.
I wait three full seconds, then pull the folded paper from inside my jacket and slide it deeper into my boot.
Ghosts don’t leave fingerprints.
And neither will I.