Chapter 11 Luca
Luca
Serge Romano’s name didn’t surprise him. It only confirmed something he’d already been circling, and that made things worse. Luca stood in his office long after Isabella left, the city bleeding light through the glass behind him while his mind worked through the angles.
Serge was a part of the Romano family, but his ambition had led him to betray Isabella and possibly her father. The real question was—was old man Romano in on the attempted kidnapping of his own daughter?
He rolled his injured shoulder again, slower this time.
The pain had settled into something dull and steady—annoying, but manageable.
His shoulder was irrelevant, though. What mattered now was if Serge had moved against his own blood; then this wasn’t just about power—it was also about timing.
And timing meant there was something bigger coming.
A knock sounded at his office door, and he didn’t bother to turn around. “Enter,” he ordered.
Dante stepped in, already keyed up. “We pulled comms from the warehouse. It’s on partial chatter, but it lines up.”
“Okay, let’s have it,” Luca growled, his patience running thin.
“Serge has been talking to the Russians for weeks,” Dante said. “Maybe longer.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “Do we know his terms yet?”
“Still digging into that. But it looks like he was offering something in exchange for the guns that he wants from the Russians.”
Luca didn’t respond right away, mostly because he already knew exactly what, or in this case, who Serge was offering the Russians.
“Isabella,” he said without question.
Dante nodded. “Yeah.”
Of course, the Russians wanted Isabella. She was a Romano daughter and would soon be a Camorra bride. They would see her as a political asset wrapped in flesh and blood. She’d be used as leverage, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Luca exhaled slowly through his nose. “They weren’t trying to kill her back at my club,” he said.
“No,” Dante agreed. “They were trying to take her.” That tracked—it was clean, efficient, and predictable. Luca moved toward his desk, grabbing a file and flipping it open—not because he needed it, but because he needed to keep busy.
“What about Romano senior?” he asked.
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dante said. “But just barely. Doc says he’ll be okay, but it’s going to take some time. You want me to bring him here?” Dante asked.
Luca looked over at Dante. “No,” he said. The last thing he needed was Isabella’s father under the same roof as her. If he was involved in her attempted kidnapping, bringing him to his home wouldn’t be a good idea.
Dante’s brows pulled together slightly. “He’d be safer here.”
“Yeah, but Isabella might not be,” Luca said. “It won’t be safe for the family either.” Because if Antonio Romano woke up inside Camorra territory? That would spark something neither family could contain. “No,” Luca repeated. “We move him somewhere neutral. Some place quiet and controlled.”
Dante nodded. “Got it.”
“What about her?” Dante asked. Luca didn’t need to give his second in command any clarification about his future wife. He wanted to tell him that she wasn’t any of his concern, but if he was going to keep her safe, he’d need Dante’s help.
“She stays,” Luca said.
“You want us to keep her locked down?” Dante asked.
Luca thought about keeping her locked in her room. It was going to piss Isabella off, but it was for her own safety. If he knew where she was, she’d be easier to protect. “Yes.”
Dante studied him for a second.
“You’re tightening the net.”
“I’m closing the fucking net,” Luca growled.
“She’s not going to like that,” Dante warned. He didn’t give a fuck if she liked it or not. His only consideration in all of this was keeping his future wife safe.
Luca’s mouth curved faintly. “She doesn’t have to like it. Isabella's liking my plan isn’t the goal—her surviving is.” Dante nodded and turned to leave. “Dante.”
He stopped and looked back at Luca. “Yeah, boss?”
“Double the internal rotations,” Luca said. “I don’t want the same faces on her for more than six hours.”
Dante’s brows lifted slightly. “Worried about leaks?” he asked.
“Always,” Luca admitted.
Dante gave a curt nod. “I’ll handle it.” The door shut behind him, and silence returned.
But it wouldn’t last, because Luca could feel it—the shift, the pull, and the awareness that she was still in his house.
She was still under his roof, and still his.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
That thought needed to stop, now. Because that was how men made mistakes, and Luca didn’t make mistakes—not anymore. Not after everything it had cost him.
He pushed off the desk and headed for the door.
He was going to check on Isabella, and then, hopefully, get some much-needed shut-eye.
He had been up for almost forty-eight hours straight, and he was exhausted.
Maybe some sleep would put everything happening with Isabella into perspective.
Maybe then, he’d stop thinking about her as his.
She wasn’t in her room—of course, she wasn’t.
He wasn’t sure if that made him want to laugh or rage.
Luca moved through the house without slowing, his steps quiet but deliberate.
He checked the living room first, finding it empty.
Then, he tried the kitchen, where he found Isabella standing at the counter, with her hands braced against the marble, staring down at nothing.
She was thinking—always thinking. He was sure that she was trying to figure out a way out of this mess, but he worried that she was plotting her escape instead.
“You’re not supposed to be down here,” he growled, trying to catch his breath.
She didn’t jump at his words or turn to look at him. “I figured that staying locked in my room was more of a suggestion.”
“It wasn’t,” he countered. She turned to face him, slowly.
“I’m not hiding,” she said. “I’m still in your house, and still under lock and key.”
“I know,” he breathed. She was right—she hadn’t run, and that was something. But she wasn’t where he expected her to be, and that took away some of his tightly held control.
“Then stop acting like I need to stay locked up in my room,” she insisted. “I promised that I won’t leave, and I keep my word, Luca.”
He stepped into the room, closing the distance just enough to make his presence unavoidable. “You being at my club,” he said, “is what got you targeted. If you’re in your room, I can keep an eye on you better.”
“No,” she corrected. “Being at your club had nothing to do with the kidnapping attempt. My family did that. They were the ones who targeted me.”
Luca studied her carefully, and she shifted restlessly. “Serge has been working with the Russians,” he said.
Her expression didn’t change, but her grip on the counter tightened. “I figured,” she whispered.
“You figured,” he repeated.
“I told you,” she said. “I heard things.”
“I’m betting that you didn’t hear everything,” he said.
“Then tell me the rest,” she demanded.
He stepped closer to her. Luca had been careful not to touch her—until now. He reached out to take her hand into his own and was surprised that she allowed him to do so. “They wanted to take you,” he said. “Not kill you.”
Her jaw tightened. “I know.”
“They would’ve used you as leverage,” he continued.
“I know,” she said.
“Against me,” he finished. That seemed to hit hard. He saw it in her eyes.
“And now?” she asked.
“Now they can’t get to you or use you against me,” he said. “You’re here, and I plan to keep you safe.”
“How can you keep me safe?” she asked. “I know my family, and if they want to get to me, they will.”
“Not if I claim you,” he insisted. The thought of making her his did strange things to him. He already told her that she belonged to him, but maybe it was time to let the rest of the world know that, too. The families might walk away if they knew that she belonged to him.
“You claimed me,” she said. It wasn’t a question—just a statement.
Luca nodded, “Yes.”
Her chest rose slowly. “And if everyone knew that you claimed me, then I’d be safe,” she said, piecing things together.
“Yes,” he breathed, “well, safer. I’m not sure if they’d all back down, but a lot of the families would once they knew that you were officially mine.”
“And this will make me safer?” she asked again.
“Yes,” he said. He hesitated to tell her this next part. “It might also make you more of a target.”
Her lips parted slightly and then closed. She was processing what he had just told her. “Why?” she asked.
Luca tilted his head slightly. “Why would it make you more of a target?” he asked.
“No, why go that far?” she said. “You could’ve just hidden me. Kept me out of sight.”
Luca stepped closer until there was barely any space between them. “Because hiding you would show weakness,” he said. Her brows pulled together. “Claiming you,” he continued, “would make you untouchable.”
Her breath hitched. “Hiding me and claiming me aren’t the same things.”
“No,” he agreed. “They’re not.”
She paused. “Which one do you think keeps me alive longer?” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. She seemed to understand her options fully, and he knew exactly which one she would pick—because she was smart.
“And the marriage?” she asked.
“It happens if you want me to claim you. The families will expect us to get married, Isabella,” he explained. “If we skip that part, no one will take my claim to you seriously.”
“And this will protect me?” she asked. He nodded. “And you,” she added.
“Yes,” he breathed. It protects both of our families and us. There it was—the truth. Even when it cut like a knife, he’d still give her the truth.
She exhaled slowly. “This isn’t what I wanted,” she admitted.
“I know,” he breathed.
Her gaze snapped to his. “You do?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
Her shoulders dropped slightly. It wasn’t exactly defeat, but more like acceptance.
“And my father?” she asked.
“He lives, for now,” Luca said. “We’re still trying to figure out if he’s involved in any of this,” he admitted.
“I want to see him,” she said. “I can talk to him and find out what he knows. I’ll be able to tell if he’s involved.”
“No,” he said, his word final.
Her eyes flashed again, and he saw it, the—the fire that he had heard about. “Stop saying that like it’s not even a conversation.”
“It’s not,” he admitted.
“I have a right to see my father,” she spat.
“No, right now, you have a target on your back,” he corrected. “And if you go anywhere near your father, you’ll only make it bigger.
“You don’t get to decide this,” Luca added. “Not right now.”
Her breath shook. “And when do I get to make my own decisions?”
Luca didn’t hesitate. “In time.”
“If this is protection, I’m not interested.” He stepped closer, and she let out the breath that she must have been holding.
“That’s too bad,” he breathed.
“And what happens when this is over?” she asked.
Luca held her gaze. “That depends.”
“On what?” she asked.
“On whether you’re still standing,” he said, bluntly, causing her to gasp. The truth of that settled heavily between them. He didn’t care, though, because in his world, nothing was guaranteed—not survival, not loyalty, and not even tomorrow.
She swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere.” He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself about that.
Luca’s mouth curved slightly. “Yeah,” he said, stepping back from her. It didn’t matter, though, not anymore, because distance didn’t change anything. Not after everything that had already been set in motion. “Good,” he added.
And this time, it didn’t sound like he was trying to control her. It sounded like certainty. Because whether she liked it or not, Isabella Romano was in his world now, and Luca Camorra wasn’t letting her walk out of it.