Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mia sat on the edge of her bed, her father’s watch burning in her palm.
A few days had passed since the attack, and the pain and aches in her body were starting to fade.
She’d asked for space, and Luc had given it to her.
Mia hardly saw him, and she had mixed feelings about it.
A part of her appreciated the distance, and another part craved his presence.
His reminder echoed in her ear: One cannot just leave this life, Mia.
She was already in the labyrinth and could not leave.
Her only way forward was to trust the man who held its map.
Her decision was not a thought but a shift—a quiet, irrevocable click in her soul.
She would not hide or be afraid. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone and sent a single message: Luc, can you come to me?
Moments later, her bedroom door opened, and he crossed into the room, controlled and unreadable. His dark eyes lifted to hers, the space seeming to shrink with his presence. “You look better. Good.”
“I feel less pain,” she said, her voice steadier than the tremor in her bones. “The doctor has done an incredible job.”
She stepped closer to him, drinking in his handsomeness.
It bemused her that she had missed being in his arms and close to him where she felt safe.
Without a word, she lifted the watch. The soft click of the compartment opening echoed like a gunshot in the quiet.
Inside the watch, the small microchip glinted—a sliver of cold, dormant power.
Such a small thing to hold the weight of empires.
Mia extended her hand, the open watch resting on her palm. Luc’s dark eyes flicked to the chip, then back to her face. For a heartbeat, the air between them charged, taut as a wire.
“This is what my family would have tortured me for,” she said softly.
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. For a single, unguarded moment, raw, voracious hunger contorted his features—a glimpse of the beast beneath the skin. Then it was gone, shuttered behind a mask of careful neutrality.
“And you… it will help you gain more power, as you said, swallow what is left of my family without bloodshed.”
“Yes.”
“You once said you could torture me for it. Why didn’t you?”
Luc didn’t flinch. “I want the power it holds.” His intense gaze burned into her. “But I want you safe. That is the only thing that outweighs it.”
Mia smiled. “I see.”
In a decisive motion, she placed the watch into his hand, their skin brushing as he closed his fingers around it, sending a current through the still air.
“Then keep it,” she said softly. “Promise that you will not harm my family, and it will indeed be a bloodless takeover.”
“You still protect them.”
“I see the disapproval in your eyes,” Mia murmured. “But it might have been only one man who made that choice. My cousins and aunts should not suffer for it.”
“I will ensure their safety.”
He stepped closer until the space between them vanished. Her breath caught as the heat of his body enveloped hers. When his hand slipped around her waist, his touch was firm, possessive, and unbearably gentle all at once. Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin.
He drew her in, his scent—dark spice and danger—filling her senses. When his lips brushed hers, the kiss was fleeting, yet it stole her breath and left her trembling. Her heart ached at the tenderness she had not expected.
He lifted his head, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “Get some rest, mia colombina,” he murmured, his voice roughened by restraint.
Then he turned and walked from the room, leaving behind the echo of his warmth.
Mia sank onto the bed, her limbs weak. The watch was gone, yet she didn’t feel the heavy emptiness she’d feared. Instead, she smiled faintly, her lips still tingling, and drifted into sleep with the taste of him lingering like a promise.
In the weeks following the attack, Mia settled into a simple routine.
She insisted on training, even when the bruises on her body ached.
She practiced with her gun until she could hit the center of a target every time.
Luc’s world was dangerous, and she wanted to be ready for whatever it demanded of her—even if, at times, she felt like an ant daring to fight wolves.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her face to the sun, letting its warmth wash over her as her toes sank deeper into the sand.
Mia had begun venturing outside again, determined not to live in fear or keep glancing over her shoulder, expecting another attack.
Luc had told her he would inform her family that he now possessed the information her father had left behind.
If they still wanted it, they would have to come for him directly.
Mia couldn’t help but wonder—would that be enough to stop them, or did they still intend to kill the mother of the potential heir?
A shout behind her made her turn around, but she saw no one but the two bodyguards assigned to her.
For a moment, she had hoped it would be her husband.
There was a shift in their relationship, one she did not yet fully understand.
Mia hardly saw him these last few weeks.
Luc, respecting the chasm the attack had opened, had left for Naples.
“Business,” Rosina had said, arranging blood-red roses in the foyer.
“He asks about you every day, you know,” Rosina had mentioned one afternoon, matter-of-fact, not pushing.
“I know,” Mia said, and she found she didn’t mind.
With Luc gone, Mia found herself spending more time with her mother-in-law.
Rosina had drawn her into a close circle of women—socialites, philanthropists, art patrons—who sipped espresso while debating Renaissance techniques and dined in candlelit villas overlooking the sea.
Mia attended their dinners, learned their grace, and held her own among the wives of powerful men.
Yet, beneath her polished smiles, loneliness lingered like a shadow.
She wandered along the shore now, the sun low and golden on the horizon. The sea breeze tangled in her hair, and warm sand shifted beneath her bare feet, grain by grain, grounding her even as her heart felt hollow. The salt air tasted of memories of Luc.
A rush of longing tightened her chest. Before she could second-guess herself, she unlocked her phone and dialed his number.
“Mia.”
Luc’s voice came on the first ring—deep, steady, and achingly familiar. Her pulse stuttered.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.” Her answer came out softer than she intended. She caught the murmur of male voices in the background, low and authoritative.
“Gentlemen,” Luc said, his tone turning sharp. “We’ll end this meeting and resume later.”
Mia’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, realizing he’d answered in the middle of business, likely thinking she was in danger. Warmth spread through her chest, melting something tight inside her. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting.”
“You can call me anytime.”
Silence followed, heavy but tender. The sound of his breath in her ear made her close her eyes. She imagined his brow lifting, the faint softening around his eyes. For a long moment, neither spoke—they listened, connected by that quiet thread of sound.
“When are you coming home?” she whispered.
“Tonight.”
Mia froze mid-step, the wind tugging at her skirt. “Truly?”
“Yes. I’ll have the jet readied and be with you soon. We could have a movie night.”
A startled laugh escaped her. “I suspect you’re only coming back because I called.”
“Yes.”
“What about your meetings?”
“My wife needs me. They can wait.”
She tried to scoff, but her voice trembled. “Why would you think I need you?”
“Because you called me—for the first time since the attack.”
A lump rose in her throat. The tide lapped at her feet, cool against the warmth of the sand. “I was… feeling lonely,” she admitted.
“Then I am failing. My wife should never feel lonely. I will have a surprise present for you.”
“I like gifts,” Mia said, laughing.
They chatted for a few more minutes, then they ended the call.
Mia stood for a moment with the phone still pressed to her ear, as if she could hold on to the echo of his voice a little longer.
The tide rolled in, cool and insistent around her ankles, tugging at her skirt.
A smile curved her lips. Before she could think better of it, she set the phone down on the sand and waded into the water.
The sea closed around her calves, her thighs, and then her waist, the chill biting at her skin until it became invigorating.
She went farther still, until the waves lifted her off her feet.
Mia stretched out on her back, surrendering to the current. The water rocked her gently, her hair fanning out around her like a dark halo. Overhead, gulls wheeled across a sky brushed with the colors of early evening. She closed her eyes and let the salt kiss her lips, and the sun warm her face.
For the first time in weeks, she felt weightless—untethered from fear, from grief, from the relentless ache that had shadowed her since the attack.
The sound of Luc’s voice still lingered in her mind, steady and certain.
As she floated, a calm settled deep in her chest. It wasn’t joy exactly, but something steadier.
A fragile, shimmering contentment. For now, it was enough.
Luc’s knuckles whitened against the edge of his desk. Rage pulsed through him—sharp, coiled, barely contained. For the past weeks, he’d been investigating every man in his employ: where they’d been, who they’d met, which accounts held more money than they should.
His home had been breached. Mia had nearly been taken. He could not stop replaying it. Even in sleep, the images came—Carlos’s voice crackling over the phone, the words Mia was attacked—and the feelings that had writhed through Luc’s chest that day still unsettled him.
She was no longer a pawn. Somewhere along the way, Mia had become his. That made her dangerous. That made her a weakness. Despite knowing it, he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. Weaknesses were not allowed.
Shoving the thoughts away, he strode into the secure room they used for tactical briefings. Carlos and Antonio stood over a table littered with maps and surveillance photos, their postures taut. Luc didn’t waste breath.
“What do we have?” he asked.
Antonio stepped forward, calm and precise.
“We’ve narrowed it down to three men. All three have worked at the main house for the last three months with no rotation to other properties, and each received sizeable deposits to their accounts within the past three weeks.
Two of them were on duty the day Mia was attacked.
Only one would have known the bodyguards’ rotations and the best window to infiltrate.
The footage shows a team of five—three stayed at the front to create the distraction and draw almost all the guards. ”
Luc took the papers Carlos handed him and froze when he saw the name.
John.
“Half a million deposited into his account the day Mia was nearly taken,” Luc said, voice low, an icy current running through him. “This bank account is in Malta.”
“Yes,” Carlos replied. “He moved the money around a few times, but we traced it.”
Luc skimmed the files on the other two foot soldiers. One had a deposit of ten thousand; the other, twenty thousand. He returned to John’s statement and felt the old, bitter twist of betrayal.
He had trusted John. Relied on him. For years, John had stood beside their father through alliances and betrayals.
If anyone should have known the full scope of Bonino’s double dealings, it was John—present at every meeting, every whispered conversation that shaped the family’s future.
He’d been the eyes and the ears. Why would he do this?
“Keep discreet surveillance on John,” Luc said.
“We must be sure before making any move. Find the source of that money, Antonio. Dig into everything he’s done in the last ten years.
Put our best hackers on it. Carlos, place discreet tails on him and ensure they are never seen.
I want to know whom he meets, where he goes each day, who he’s sleeping with, and every call he makes or receives. Report everything to me directly.”
Antonio inclined his head.
Carlos hesitated, brow furrowing. “I see the half-million in his account, and it is concerning, but John… he’s always been loyal.”
Luc fixed him with a cold look. “That’s precisely why I’m being certain before we act. Use men who are utterly loyal and who understand that a single slip will be fatal.”
“Understood,” Carlos said.
Luc dismissed his men and left the secure room, the door clicking shut behind him, its echo ringing in the silence.
The rage simmered still, a low burn in his veins, but he forced it down as he climbed the stairs.
It had taken him hours to wrap up business in Naples before returning, but he had kept his word to Mia—he’d come home tonight.
When he entered his bedchamber and saw her, the tension in his chest broke apart.
Mia lay sprawled across the sheets, the moonlight tracing her bare shoulders, her skin soft and golden against the white linen.
She wore only a wisp of silk that clung to her hips, and the sight of her was enough to make his pulse stutter.
He bit his knuckles, hard, to stop himself from crossing the room and taking her then and there. He’d already done the impossible—walked away earlier to meet with Carlos and Antonio instead of giving in to the need clawing through him to sink deep into her and hold her close.
Now, he could finally breathe.
She shifted, one arm curled under her cheek, her hair tumbling across the pillow. He undressed slowly, not caring where his clothes fell; each piece dropped to the carpet as though shedding the weight of the world. Then he slipped into the bed beside her.
Almost instantly, as if she sensed him, Mia rolled into his embrace, pressing her warm body against his chest. Her sigh was soft, trusting.
Luc closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around her.
For the first time in days, the storm inside him eased.
There it was again—that elusive calm that only came when she was near.
Peace… and something far deeper he could not name.