Chapter 18
Enzo
“Still set for the banquet next week, Enzo? Many people are expecting you.” Sergio’s voice crackled through the phone.
I drummed my fingers on the polished marble of my desk, the faint echoes swallowed by the high ceiling.
The air conditioning unit rattled softly in the corner, a steady hum barely masking the distant bleat of scooters from the streets below.
“Yeah. Lombardy’s on the books. About time I headed home for good.
” Let my mother shout all she liked; she’d no longer hinder us leaving Sicily.
I curled my fingers into a fist. How dare she intrude the other night.
Nephew or not, Franco Calafiore deserved a bullet.
I’d have killed him if not for Carina… still contemplated the idea.
The lowlife braved the nerve to attack my woman, to mark her skin.
Franco underestimated me, acting as though his dark world gave him the upper hand.
I hadn’t lived his life, but I’d seen and done enough to protect the ones I cared about.
Of course, he’d learned this the hard way once I’d bound him to a chair in my garage.
“Great. I’ll tell the board. See you soon.”
“Bye, Sergio.” I ended the call and tapped at the keyboard, organizing the jet for mine and Gemma’s departure.
A knock sounded at the door. I looked up to see Lucio leaning against the doorframe, that familiar grin already spreading across his face. It took a second for the coiled tension in my shoulders to ease. “Lucio,” I managed, running a hand over my face. “When did you get back?”
He pushed off the frame. “About thirty minutes ago. Didn’t you get my text?”
I snatched my phone and swiped it open. His message was typical Lucio. “An eye emoji, the letter U, and an arrow pointing right.” I looked up, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, that classic isn’t-it-obvious? expression firmly in place. “Eye. You. Soon. See you soon . Honestly, fratello , sometimes I wonder about you.” Lucio crossed the room, his grin fading, steps slow as he neared my desk. “Oh, no. What happened?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face, the rasp of stubble on my palm a reminder to shave. “Don’t ask.”
He wiggled his tie free and sank into the seat across my desk. His hazel eyes, the same eyes as our mother’s, searched my face for answers. “I’m gone for three days and you look like someone died. What happened? Did Carina do something?”
He’d learn what happened sooner or later. I shut my laptop, the soft click seeming to finalize my decision, and told him everything.
Lucio sputtered, raking a hand through his pristine brown hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stared down at his lap, his strong jaw flexing. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have come to that godforsaken party.How is she?”
The image of Gemma—eyes red-rimmed, a tremor rippling through her—punched me in the gut. Thank God I’d heard her whimpers when passing her door and shook her awake from her nightmare. Relief swamped me when she asked me to stay. Her tiles had been my bed these last few nights. “Not good.”
Lucio interlocked his fingers, cracking his knuckles. “How’d you get Franco back to our place on your own?”
So like Lucio to ask for specifics when he missed out on the action.
“I returned to the party, held Franco at gunpoint and used him as a hostage to leave. Our guards waited in the backseat and kept him in line on the drive back.” I detailed to Lucio what had occurred back at the house.
When Franco begged for mercy, I heard him out.
Big mistake on his part. He justified his behavior and tried reasoning with me—as if I operated on the same warped logic.
The pathetic low-life presumed I viewed Gemma as a mere pawn in my mother’s game and didn’t value her.
In his world, a woman gained through force for revenge…
well, she wouldn’t be respected, would she?
He assumed I didn’t care and wouldn’t mind sharing the goods.
Lucio chuckled and flicked a dark lock from his eyes. “I’m not surprised. You’ve been brutal since we were kids. Some things never change, Enzo.”
Brutal or a more sinister penchant. Would Gemma see it eventually?
The monster lurking beneath the surface?
The way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, a genuine warmth capable of melting ice.
What if my darkness tainted her light? I swallowed, not even wanting to comprehend the notion.
“So?” My brother shrugged, his brows raised in question. “What did you do with Franco in the end?”
I typed away, finalizing instructions for the staff in Lombardy. “The guards dumped him. He’s probably at a hospital… or maybe a dentist.” I swiveled in my chair, biting my inner cheek. “Either way, he learned his lesson. No one touches what’s mine.”
Lucio’s brows bounced in surprise. The dimples in his cheeks indented with his smile. “Yours?”
Had I stuttered? “Gemma and I are legally married.”
My brother raised his palms in defense, squeezing his lips together to stamp down his humor.
“What?” My back snapped straight, and I stared daggers. “Why the look?”
“I don’t have a look… I’m just thinking, you’re… softer around her.” He nodded his assurance when his gaze honed in on the twitch beneath my eye. “Even if you don’t realize it, she’s grounding you. Maybe you’ve needed this all along, someone to pull you back from the edge.”
Pull me back? Quite the opposite. With Gemma, it felt as if I free-fell straight off a cliff. I ignored the bomb Lucio just dropped, unwilling to face what had been eating at me for weeks.
He shot me a pointed stare. “Look, all fluffy stuff aside, I’m just glad you found her in time.”
Not fast enough. Here I’d been so paranoid over the De Lucas, I let my guard down when entering into Calafiore territory.
Now the anguish in her eyes and her broken sobs would forever haunt me.
“She’s not like others, Lucio. She’s pure, innocent, and yet in the same breath, fierce and determined. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
Lucio reclined back in his chair, not bothering to hide his full-blown grin this time. “You like her.”
I scoffed. First, Carina, now my brother. “Why does everyone say I like her?”
He rumbled a low chuckle. “Because we aren’t blind. And frankly, the air crackles with so much unacknowledged longing when you’re near her, I’m half expecting small woodland creatures to show up and start helping you braid her hair.”
“Noticing certain aspects about a person means I’m perceptive. Nothing more—are you daft, cavalo?” I reopened my laptop, determined to play busy and throw Lucio a hint.
He leaned forward, patting the desk, each tap a deliberate tune. “What are you doing?” I asked, my patience thinning.
“Speaking of perceptive,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he continued the beat. “Do you hear that? When you speak, your words sound like a brooding soundtrack, but all I hear is Dean Martin’s, That’s Amore . Honestly, fratello , if you were a text message, you’d be a heart-eyes emoji.”
I flung a scrunched paper ball at his head. “Get out of here. Don’t you have work to do?”
Arms raised, he stood from his chair and backed to the door. “Actually, yes, I have to finalize the presentation for the board meeting.”
“Try not to cram it with emojis. Those men are too old for such nonsense.”
“Will do.” His grin widened. “And when you realize I’m spot on about you and Gemma, just shoot me a text. It’s easy to find; it’s the one hundred percent symbol in red.”
“You’re reading into this wrong, the same way I read half of your phone messages,” I retorted, turning pointedly back to my screen.
A dry chuckle burst from his mouth. “Oh yeah, sure, tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night.”
◆◆◆
I parked in the driveway, staring up at the two men guarding the front door. Lucio unclicked his seatbelt, the sound echoing in the small space.
“Be ready for Carina’s tantrums. She’s livid you left for Lombardy.”
He rolled his eyes. “She’ll get over it.”
We strode through the foyer and almost collided with Gemma.
She’d made an effort today—a black floral summer dress rather than her casual denims and shirt, her espresso hair cascading down her back.
But the shadows still lingered in her amber eyes, a reminder of the other night. She clutched her hands in front of her.
“Gemma, are you all right?” I plonked my suitcase on the floor and straightened.
She attempted a small smile and tugged my wrist. “Come, I have a surprise for you.” She beckoned around my shoulder at my brother. “You too, Lucio, join us.”
She led me through the dining hall. Since Franco’s attack, she made a point of waiting by the door every evening when I returned from work; asking about my day, sharing the details of her own, even inviting me to a game of cards before dinner.
Was it boredom, cooped up in the mansion all day?
Fear of being alone, still clinging to the trauma of that night?
Or had my violent rescue somehow forged a bond?
A bond … the very thing I’d intended to create from the start, my one goal as part of our revenge plan.
But the closer she got, the more real she felt, her presence a warmth I craved at the end of each day.
And what about the plan? I almost forgot about it entirely until now.
If her intentional presence around me counted as a sign, then that meant we were closer to the end.
The sooner she fell, the sooner I’d achieve my goal and fulfil my vow.
The thought punched me in the gut, a cold fist squeezing the air from my lungs.
The taste of victory turned bitter on my tongue.
Was revenge worth this? Worth losing her?
A yellow glow emanated inside the darkened room. My steps faltered. Candles lit the chocolate cake on the table. Homemade, no doubt. Gemma baked this? The staff wouldn’t dare. Not without my explicit permission.