Chapter 31 Charlie
Charlie
Walking into Pulse with Luciano shadowing my every step feels like stepping into another world—one where every pair of eyes is a spotlight blazing down on me.
I can almost hear their whispers, the employees probably wondering what damn miracle landed me beside him.
And the crowd, oh, they’re seething with envy because it’s me, not them, who’s got Luciano.
I study him as we move through the club, watching how the room’s energy bends to his presence.
They have no idea I just left him breathless in the back of the Hummer, and the sticky proof still clings to my thigh.
Part of me wants to slip away to the restroom and wash it off.
But another part? It wants to wear it like a badge, a silent testament to what just went down.
His hand finds the small of my back, firm and possessive, guiding me up the stairs to the VIP area, the very booth where our chaotic story began, where I threw that drink and set everything in motion. Memories flare like a sudden, sharp flame.
“Finally!” Mel’s voice cuts through the music as she barrels toward me.
My head jumps back, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”
“Stefano picked me up. Surprise!” I glance at Luciano, a sly smile curling his lips. That sneaky bastard. For a split second, guilt pricks me. Did I really forget to invite her?
Before I can spiral, Izzy thrusts a shot into my hand. “Here, catch up.” I down it in one smooth gulp, the burn warming me from inside out. Damn, if only it was Luciano’s warmth coursing down my throat instead. Without missing a beat, I call for another and slam it just as fast.
Mel yells over the pounding music, “Come on, girls. Let’s dance!”
“Can I be a girl? I want to dance too!” Mattia pipes up, making Mel and Izzy burst into laughter. How much have they had already?
I turn to Luciano, grab his face with both hands, and pull him in. Our kiss is fierce and claiming. If anyone’s thinking of touching him, they’ll have to get through me first.
“You done marking your territory? I want to dance,” Mel whines behind me.
“Coming,” I say, catching Luciano’s eye just as he nods subtly to Mattia. Odd.
Another shot down the hatch, and I take the girls’ hands, leading the charge to the dance floor, with Mattia tailing us. “So, which lucky girl gets to grind with me?” Mattia shouts, sliding into the center of our circle. “Or all three of you?” He winks, shimmying just in front of me.
Mel laughs. “You may be Luciano’s brother, but I still think he’d kill you if you touched Charlie tonight. Have you seen the way he’s staring at her?”
“You can dance with me, hot stuff,” Izzy teases, pulling him close. They melt into each other like no one else is in the room. My eyes wander over Izzy as she dances all over Mattia and I can’t help but feel jealous, wanting her to be moving over me instead.
“Just like old times,” I shout to Mel, looking for a distraction. I sway and throw my hands in the air, feeling the music pulse through me.
She pulls me into a tight hug. “I missed you.”
“Me too, Mel. Sorry, it’s been a crazy couple of months,” I whisper back.
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Luciano’s gaze fixed on me.
His glass raises in a silent salute, and confidence surges through me.
Time to stir the pot. I grab Mattia’s arm and pull him closer to dance.
Our bodies press close; his heat radiates against me, but not once does he cross the line, no matter how much I tease and touch.
“Playing with fire, Red,” Mattia jokes.
“That’s the plan,” I murmur in his ear. His eyes flicker over to our table, no doubt to Luciano. “I need to pee. Be right back,” I say over my shoulder.
As I turn, Mattia grabs my arm. “I’ll come with you.”
“What? No way, you can’t come into the bathroom with me.”
“Eww, gross. I’ll just stand outside.” It all starts to make sense. Luciano being overprotective again.
“He put you up to this, didn’t he? Babysitting me?” I poke his chest.
“For your safety,” Mattia says.
“I’m not a child. I’m a Carlisi. You guys need to start treating me like it.”
“Charlie, chill. You know I respect you more than anyone here. Don’t cause a scene, Luciano’s watching,” Mattia warns. I almost forgot about Luciano’s unblinking, hawk-like gaze.
“Fine. Just outside,” I agree. The line for the ladies’ room moves fast. In and out with no drama.
I wonder again why they fuss so much. But stepping back out, my world shifts.
Mattia’s got some poor guy pinned against the wall.
“Whoa, Mattia, what the hell?” I shout, pulling him off the trembling man.
“Where’d you get this?” Mattia snarls, holding up a clear bag of powder. The guy’s about to piss himself.
“From… that guy,” he stammers, pointing at a mohawked man in a grey hoodie.
“Red, go to Luciano. Tell him to meet me in the back office,” Mattia says without taking his eyes off the suspect.
“Who is—”
“NOW, CHARLIE!”
Panic clenches at my chest like a vice, my heart hammering as I sprint toward Luciano. He catches sight of me, his sharp blue eyes scanning my face, instantly reading the urgency. Without a word, he’s on his feet, storming towards me and pulling me close with that iron grip of his. “What’s wrong?”
I lean into him. Tonight just took a darker turn. “Mattia sent me,” I shout into his ear. “He wants you in the office. Now.”
Luciano’s face hardens, cold as stone. He pulls out his phone, fingers flying across the screen, before he pockets it. “You’re coming with me.” He grips my hand like it’s the only thing keeping us both anchored.
“But the girls—”
“Gabriele’s got them.”
“But—”
He stops so suddenly I nearly collide with his back. His piercing gaze drills into me, no softness. “Do you want to run the Cosa Nostra?”
I straighten, meeting his intensity head-on. “Yes, I do.”
“Then move.” He drags me through a twisting corridor I’ve never seen before, up a flight of cold, creaking stairs. When we enter the office, the tension is suffocating.
There he is, the man in the hoodie, slumped in a chair, hands bound. Mattia sits crossed legged on the edge of the desk, still as a statue, his eyes locked on the prisoner like a predator as he plays with a knife in his hand.
“What’s this about?” Luciano asks.
“Caught him dealing drugs in our club,” Mattia says, nodding towards the hooded guy.
Luciano and I circle the table, his fingers entwined with mine, the unspoken bond grounding me. He settles into the chair, pulling me onto his lap.
“What’s your name?” Luciano snaps.
“Eli…”
“Who do you work for, Eli?” Luciano asks.
Eli looks between the three of us before he stammers, “Carlisi family…”
Luciano’s patience is thin tonight. “One more time. Who do you work for?”
“Carlisi,” Eli quivers, fear written all over his face.
Luciano pulls out his phone, calling Carlo with a single word: “Office.”
His hand slides soothingly along my side, trying to calm the demon inside him.
It’s clear that Eli isn’t one of us. I pick up the bag of cocaine from the desk, inspecting it closely.
No Carlisi branding. Slitting it open, I dip a finger in, letting the powder sift between my fingers. It feels cheap compared to our product.
I fix Eli with a cold stare. “I’m Charlotte Carlisi.” I pause to watch the shock crash across his face, the weight of the moment sinking in. He knows exactly how deep he’s in now.
Carlo enters the room silently, hovering behind our prisoner. Eli looks like he's about to piss himself.
“I know you’re not working for me,” I say deadly. “Last chance. Tell us who you work for before Carlo starts breaking bones.”
The man doesn’t give in, just starts sobbing. I stay perched on Luciano’s lap, watching the man’s facade crumble.
Luciano taps my thigh gently, a silent, unyielding command to stay alert, to absorb everything. This is the savage reality I’m destined to command soon. There is no mercy here, no softness. Only dominance and control.
I turn my gaze toward Carlo. “Fingers,” I say, my voice cold.
Carlo, as stoic as ever, steps forward without a word.
He grasps the man’s hand and begins to snap each finger with a sharp, sickening crack.
The man’s scream shatters the room, but still no name escapes his lips.
One by one, ten fingers are broken, each snap punctuated by the victim’s agonizing cries.
The music is blaring so loud outside that no one will be able to hear him.
“Nose,” I order, watching closely. Carlo’s fist collides with the man’s face, the brutal punch sending his head snapping backward.
Blood pours from his nostrils like a crimson waterfall, most likely staining the floor beneath him.
The man’s ragged breaths fill the room, but his silence remains unbroken.
“Mattia,” I say, and he throws his knife, landing it directly into Eli’s shoulder before pulling out another knife from his shoe. Mattia looks over at me and I nod, giving him the go ahead to throw the next one. It lands in his other shoulder, but Eli still doesn’t give in.
Luciano reaches into the desk drawer, his hand emerging with a pistol fitted with a silencer. He slides it into my palm, eyes locked on mine. “You’re in charge,” he says.
My heart hammers as I grip the gun, rising from my spot on his lap.
I circle the table until I stand face-to-face with the hooded man.
I press the cold metal against his forehead, my finger hovering over the trigger.
I breathe deeply, trying to steady the storm inside me.
You can do this, I murmur in my mind, over and over.
Just as my finger begins to squeeze the trigger, Eli whimpers, “Wait, please.”
I shove the pistol harder against his skin. “Name,” I demand, unwavering.
“Andretti,” he sobs, voice cracking under the weight of fear.