Chapter 11
Luca
Three hours had passed since I'd left Sienna sleeping in my bed—the first time she'd spent the night there. Three hours of pacing, reviewing security protocols, anything to distract from the hurricane of emotions tearing through my carefully constructed defenses.
I gripped the edge of my desk, knuckles white. The memory of kneeling before Sienna, my forehead pressed to her abdomen, played on an endless loop in my mind.
I wasn't built for this. Don Romano had raised his sons to be steel, not flesh. To see people as either assets or liabilities. My brothers had learned that lesson too well—both dead before thirty. I was the only one left to carry the legacy.
Now, alone in my office, I felt dismantled.
A father. The word itself was a loaded gun.
Until Sienna placed my hand on her stomach, and something ancient and primal had awakened inside me. A fierce, terrifying protectiveness that threatened everything I'd built.
The door opened without a knock. Only one person would dare.
"It's 4 a.m.," Marco said. "Thought you'd be... occupied."
"I'm working," I said flatly.
"Bullshit." He closed the door. "Everything about that woman is business. She's a Moretti. She's carrying your child."
I turned to the security monitors, saying nothing.
"This changes things," Marco continued. "The original plan—two years, clean annulment—that's impossible now. A child binds you permanently."
"I know exactly what it means," I cut him off. "Why are you here at 4 a.m.?"
"Ricci's escalating. After last week's hits, he's demanding a meeting. Says your continued 'absence' proves you're hiding."
"He wants me exposed. Visible. Vulnerable."
"Exactly. And Giuseppe's been seen with Ricci's lieutenant twice this week. They're preparing for something bigger."
A cold knot tightened in my gut. Giuseppe and Ricci working together meant eliminating both Romano and Moretti leadership. With Sienna carrying a child that would unite both bloodlines, we'd become the primary obstacle.
"Increase security at all distribution points," I ordered. "And arrange a public appearance—lunch at Vincenzo's tomorrow."
"Ricci's going to take that as weakness."
"Let him." I turned back to the monitors. "That will be all."
He left, closing the door softly.
The soft sound of bare feet on hardwood broke my concentration.
"You should be sleeping," I said.
"So should you." Sienna's voice was husky with exhaustion. "What are you doing?"
"Working."
She moved into view, dressed in one of my black t-shirts. Her hair was tousled, eyes heavy with sleep. She looked softer like this. Dangerous in an entirely different way.
"This early?"
"Crime doesn't keep business hours."
She huffed a soft laugh. "Very philosophical."
I finally turned to face her fully, and the sight of her wearing my clothes, with my child growing inside her—it hit me like a physical blow.
"Why are you awake?" I asked, voice rougher than intended.
"I woke up alone." She said it simply, without accusation. "After..."
After everything between us. After I'd knelt before her like she was something sacred.
"I had work to do."
"You're running again."
"I don't run."
"Not physically, no." She stepped closer. "But you left me in that bed the moment it felt real."
"Nothing's changed, Sienna."
"Everything's changed." Another step. "You felt it too. Tonight, when you put your hand here." She pressed her palm to her stomach. "When you promised to protect our child."
Our child. The words sent a shock wave through me.
She was close enough now that I could smell my soap on her skin, see the pulse at her throat.
"This isn't wise," I said, barely above a whisper.
"Since when is anything about us wise?" Her eyes held mine. "You want me. I want you."
I reached out, brushing hair from her face. She leaned into the touch.
Then I kissed her.
Hard. Desperate. Cutting off the words between us.
She froze for a moment, then her hands fisted in my shirt, and I couldn't tell if she was pushing me away or pulling me closer.
She bit my lip—hard enough to hurt, hard enough to draw blood.
"I hate you," she hissed against my mouth.
"I know." I backed her against the wall, my body caging hers. "Hate me all you want. But don't ask me to risk you. Don't ask me to choose my empire over our child."
"That's not—" Her breath caught as my hand slid up her thigh, fingers finding bare skin. "That's not what I'm asking."
"Then what?" I demanded, my other hand braced against the wall beside her head. "Tell me what you want, Sienna."
Her eyes blazed with fury and something darker, hotter. "I want you to stop treating me like I'm fragile. I want you to stop making decisions for me. I want—"
She grabbed my face and kissed me with bruising force, all teeth and anger and desperate need.
I groaned into her mouth, my control fracturing. This wasn't the careful, claiming sex of our wedding night. This was something rawer. More honest.
"Tell me to stop," I growled, even as my hands found the hem of her shirt.
"Don't you dare." She pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside. "Don't you dare stop."
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the small couch in my office. We fell together, a tangle of limbs and frustration and need.
"This doesn't fix anything," she said breathlessly as I kissed down her neck.
"I know." My hands found the waistband of her sleep shorts, sliding them down along with her underwear. "But I need you anyway."
"I'm still furious with you."
"Good." I stripped off my shirt, then my pants. "Be furious. Be anything. Just don't shut me out."
She reached for me, her hand wrapping around my cock with confident possession. I hissed at the contact, my hips jerking forward.
"You're an arrogant bastard," she said, stroking me slowly.
"Yes." I captured her wrist, pinning both her hands above her head with one of mine. "And you're a stubborn, reckless woman who nearly got herself killed trying to escape me."
"Maybe I should try again."
"Try it and I'll tie you to this bed." The threat came out rougher than intended, edged with real fear.
Her eyes darkened. "Promises, promises."
I released her wrists, sliding my hand down her body. My fingers found her center—already wet, her body betraying what her words wouldn't admit.
"Luca—" Her hands tangled in my hair.
"I promise," I said, my fingers stroking through her wetness, "that no matter what happens to my empire, I will keep you and our child safe."
I slid two fingers inside her, and her back arched off the couch.
"That's not—oh God—that's not what I want to hear right now."
"Then tell me what you want to hear." I curled my fingers, finding that spot that made her gasp. "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
"I want—" Her voice broke. "I want you to admit you're scared."
The honesty of it gutted me.
I pulled back, meeting her eyes. "I'm terrified," I admitted. "Every day. Terrified that I'll lose you. That I'll fail to protect you. That our child will pay for my mistakes."
Her expression softened, tears spilling over. "Finally. The truth."
"Always the truth with you." I positioned myself at her entrance. "Even when it scares the hell out of me."
"Then be scared with me," she whispered, her hands framing my face. "Stop trying to shoulder everything alone."
I pushed inside her slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. She was tight, hot, perfect.
"Together," I promised, withdrawing and thrusting back in. "We face it together."
She wrapped her legs around my waist, changing the angle. "Then start acting like it."
I moved faster, harder, pouring my frustration and fear and desperate need into every thrust. She met me stroke for stroke, her nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks.
"You don't get to make all the decisions," she panted, her walls clenching around me.
"Then tell me what you want." I shifted my angle, hitting deeper. "Be my equal, Sienna. Be my partner. Take what you need from me."
She pushed against my chest, and I let her flip our positions. She straddled me, taking me even deeper, her hands braced on my chest.
"This," she said, rolling her hips. "I want this. Partnership. Choice. Trust."
I gripped her hips, watching her move above me—powerful, beautiful, mine. "You have it. All of it."
She rode me with increasing urgency, chasing her pleasure with single-minded focus. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit.
"Come for me," I commanded. "Let me feel you."
Her orgasm hit like a wave, her body clenching around me as she cried out. The sight of her—head thrown back, pleasure written across her face—shattered what little control I had left.
I thrust up into her twice more before my own release crashed through me, spilling inside her with a groan that came from somewhere deep in my chest.
She collapsed against me, both of us breathing hard. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand settling protectively over her stomach.
"This doesn't solve our problems," she said quietly.
"No," I agreed. "But it's a start."
She lifted her head, meeting my eyes. "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"Promise me that from now on, we make decisions together. No more hiding things from me to 'protect' me. No more treating me like I'm too fragile to handle the truth."
I studied her face—fierce, determined, unbreakable. "I promise. Partners."
"Partners," she echoed, settling back against my chest.
We'd barely dressed again when the security panel beeped.
Marco's voice came through the intercom. "Boss. We need you. Now."
The urgency cut through everything. I pulled on my shirt as Sienna did the same.
"Stay here," I ordered.
"Luca—"
"Stay. Here."
I found Marco in the security room, expression grim. He handed me an envelope. "Slid under the emergency exit. Camera seven was disabled for forty-five seconds."
Inside—a photograph and a note.
The image showed Sienna in our underground apartment, asleep in my bed. Curled on her side, one hand over her stomach. The timestamp: 2:47 a.m. Just over an hour ago.
My blood turned to ice.
Someone had accessed our internal security feed. Used our own cameras against us.
The note was in Giuseppe's handwriting: She looks pale. Pregnancy can be so... delicate. You have one hour to call me, or the next image won't come from your security cameras.
I crumpled the note, fury overriding ice.
"Are you going to call him?" Marco asked carefully.
"No. He wants me panicked, making desperate moves." I threw the note aside. "Get me Francesco's location. And find out who had access to our security feed in the last six hours."
"Security feed requires dual authentication. Only five people have it: you, me, Angelo, Francesco, and Dante."
"Francesco."
"He logged in at 2:34 a.m. Thirteen minutes before the screenshot."
"At 2:34 when his shift doesn't start until six?" The pieces clicked. "He wasn't checking cameras. He was giving Giuseppe access."
"We don't have proof—"
"We have enough. Bring him in. Quietly."
Francesco had suggested the current security protocols. Recommended camera placements. Volunteered for system updates. Not incompetence—infiltration from the beginning.
"What about Mrs. Romano?"
"I'll handle Sienna."
I returned to find Sienna where I'd left her, arms crossed, expression wary.
"What happened?"
I considered lying. Considered shielding her.
Instead, I handed her the photograph.
She took it, face draining of color. "How—"
"Someone inside gave them access. Giuseppe's making his move." I kept my voice steady. "The note was in his handwriting. He wants you. And the baby."
"He'd threaten his own niece?"
"Family means nothing to men like him. You're a means to an end." I moved closer. "Which is why we stay put. Trust no one except Marco and Angelo. And wait for him to overplay his hand."
"They want our child," she said softly, hand moving to her stomach. "A Romano-Moretti heir would be the ultimate bargaining chip."
"They'll have to go through me first," I said, the promise absolute.
She studied my face. "You're not telling me everything."
Perceptive, as always. My first instinct was to deflect, shield her from the worst. But I'd tried that before, and she'd accused me of treating her like a possession rather than a partner.
She was right then. And she was right now.
I met her gaze directly. "Giuseppe's made his move. Now we make ours."