Chapter 10
POV: Amanda
The sound reached me first.
Not a sound—an explosion. A crash, followed by shouts. My whole body went tense as I rushed down the hall, the voices carrying clearer with every step.
“Stay back, Amanda!” Adrian’s tone was sharp, commanding. He stood in front of the door, his frame blocking it like a shield. Inside, I heard the chaos—Riccardo shouting, something breaking, the raw sound of panic in his voice.
My chest tightened. “He’s in crisis,” I whispered, trying to look around Adrian, but he stepped forward, almost pushing me back.
“Yes. And it’s dangerous. He gets aggressive—”
“I don’t care.” My voice cut through his warning before I could think. “He needs someone to ground him.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with that alpha authority that always made my pulse quicken. But this wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about me either. It was about Riccardo.
I slipped past before Adrian could grab me, my heart hammering as I entered the storm.
Riccardo’s face was red, his breathing ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the table like he was about to throw it across the room. His eyes darted everywhere, unfocused, trapped in whatever was tearing at him.
I swallowed my fear and stepped closer. “Riccardo.”
He didn’t look at me. His whole body shook, his voice breaking into an incomprehensible stream of Italian.
“Riccardo.” I tried again, softer this time. I reached for what I knew, for the thread that tied us together. “The queen.”
He stilled, just slightly. His chest heaved, but his eyes flicked toward me.
“Yes, remember?” I pressed, my voice low, steady, as though I could anchor him with it. “The chess game. You said I took your queen.”
His grip on the table loosened a fraction.
“You said… I was one queen.” My lips trembled around the words, but I forced a smile. “You promised. Does a queen ever abandon her board, Riccardo?”
His breathing slowed. A shudder ran through him, and then he sank back against the chair, eyes finally focusing on mine.
“There you are,” I whispered, almost crying from relief.
Adrian and Bella moved quickly then—Bella with the medication and warm water, Adrian keeping his brother steady but quieter now, more compliant.
I stayed near, speaking gently whenever Riccardo’s eyes flicked back to mine, reminding him he wasn’t lost.
By the time Bella coaxed him into a bath and tucked him into bed, his body was limp, exhaustion taking over.
I lingered outside the door, trembling.
When I finally stepped inside, Adrian was already there, sitting at the edge of Riccardo’s bed, his hand resting protectively near his brother’s arm. His eyes were dark, focused, the lines of his face etched with a quiet kind of pain.
I leaned against the doorframe. “He’s asleep?”
Adrian turned his head toward me, his expression softening the second he saw me. “Yes. The medication helps. He’ll rest now.” He hesitated before adding, “Thank you, Amanda. You… you brought him back.”
I crossed the room slowly, my heart heavy yet proud. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do.” His voice was rough, almost breaking. “He almost never has crises anymore. I thought we’d left this behind. Seeing him like this…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, then glanced at me with something more vulnerable than I’d ever seen. “I couldn’t reach him. But you did.”
I lowered my gaze, fighting the lump in my throat. “I just remembered what mattered to him.”
His lips curved in the faintest smile. “The chess game.”
That made me smile too. “I played with him this afternoon and took his queen, and he said it’s because I was the only queen here.”
Adrian leaned back slightly, the shadow of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Then I suppose that makes me the king.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “You really like being called that, don’t you?”
He stood then, closing the space between us until I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes searched mine, the storm in them pulling me closer without a single touch.
“Mia Volpe…” His voice was low, almost reverent.
And then his mouth was on mine.
This kiss was different—deeper, calmer, not rushed by anger or frustration. His lips moved with slow intensity, drawing me in until my body pressed against his without thought. His hand cupped the side of my neck, anchoring me, while his other arm slid firmly around my waist, holding me to him.
I melted, my heart racing, my breath tangling with his. Every part of me screamed for more—for the safety and the danger he was at once.
The kiss grew hot fast, deepening, our bodies fusing closer. I forgot how quickly things between us always spiraled, how intense it got without either of us meaning it to.
From the bed, Riccardo murmured something in his sleep, restless for a moment. Adrian stilled, his lips leaving mine, his gaze shifting toward his brother. His expression tightened.
“I need to stay with him,” he whispered.
I nodded, though part of me ached at the sudden distance. “Of course.”
He brushed his lips once more against my hair, softer this time. “Goodnight, my queen.”
I left quietly, my body still humming from his touch, my heart aching with everything left unsaid.
Breakfast the next morning felt lighter somehow. Riccardo looked better—color back in his face, calmer, like the storm had passed. I caught myself smiling when he reached for another piece of bread, as if nothing had happened the night before.
But the knot in my stomach hadn’t loosened. Because I knew what I had to do.
“I’ll be out for a while,” I said casually, standing and smoothing my hands down my jeans. “Meeting a friend in town.”
Bella just nodded, too busy fussing with Riccardo’s plate to question me. Adrian’s eyes, though… they followed me, sharp and unreadable.
The lie stung on my tongue, burning even as I walked out of the house.
The truth was, I wasn’t going to meet a friend.
I was going to meet an agent. Someone from the police, the only link I had to the life I’d left behind.
And I hated it—hated that my chest ached with guilt at the thought of Adrian.
That part of me wanted to protect him from this, even though he was the very man I should be protecting people from.
The café was small, tucked on a quiet street, its bell chiming softly as I pushed the door open. The agent was already there, waiting with a newspaper folded on the table as cover. My throat felt tight as I slid into the chair across from him.
I didn’t want to be here. But I had to.
“I don’t have much,” I whispered, glancing around before pulling the folded note from my pocket and pushing it across the table. “Read this later. Don’t go to the station directly after me—Adrian could have someone following.”
“Tell me what you know,” he pressed, low voice clipped.
“Adrian De Lucca controls everything. The other families respect him. They use the nightclubs and the clothing store to launder money. His sister, Bella, handles most of the clothing side, and—” My throat caught, cutting me off before I said too much.
Before I spoke Riccardo’s name. He was supposed to be dead to the police.
A fake death was dangerous territory, and dragging him into this wouldn’t help the investigation.
It would only put him at risk. “Someone from the other families is behind the attacks we suspected. They shot me while I was protecting him.”
His eyes flicked to my leg. “Are you okay, Agent?”
“Yes. Just muscle. I’m almost fully recovered. They took good care of me there.” The words burned. A bitter, ironic whisper in my head followed: Tell him how good Adrian De Lucca is at taking care of you.
The thought stabbed me, left me raw. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep doing this.
His jaw tightened. “We need more frequent contact.”
I shook my head, my voice firm despite the guilt pressing into my ribs. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll reach out in a couple of weeks. That’s it.”
His disapproval was sharp, but I didn’t let it sink in. I was already pushing to my feet, already forcing myself out of the café before the weight of my own choices crushed me.
When I returned, Bella was the first to catch me. “Adrian’s in his office. He wants to see you.”
My pulse spiked. My steps slowed. My mind spun with every possible scenario. What if he knew? What if he’d already seen through the lie?
I pushed the door open carefully.
Adrian was at his desk, leaning back in his chair, watching me the way a predator studies movement in the dark.
“You were gone a while,” he said, voice calm but edged like a blade. “With this friend.”
My stomach knotted, but then I caught the flicker in his eyes—something not suspicion, but hotter. Sharper. Jealousy.
Relief nearly made me laugh. I tilted my head, letting my lips curve into a teasing smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me the King is jealous of an old friend from the army.”
His jaw clenched, but he pushed up from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing the room until his hands locked around my waist, pulling me into him. “I’m not. But should I be?”
My breath hitched, but I held his gaze, teasing. “Only if you don’t kiss me right now.”
He did.
The kiss was deep, consuming, his mouth claiming mine like he could erase the idea of anyone else ever touching me. His body pressed against me, hot, unrelenting, and for one dangerous moment, guilt drowned under the weight of how much I wanted him. How wrong it all was. How I couldn’t stop.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath ragged, roughened with something that scared me as much as it thrilled me.
“Let me take you on a date,” he murmured, his voice low and almost pleading.
A smile tugged at my lips despite the chaos in my chest. “Fine. But only if you wear a bulletproof vest—for me.”
His laugh rumbled deep in his chest, his grip tightening at my waist. “For you? Anything.”
I lingered at Bella’s door longer than I should have before finally knocking.
She opened with a raised brow, already smirking like she’d been waiting for me. “Well, well. Look who’s finally admitting she needs a little help.”
I rolled my eyes, though the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me. “I need a dress. Just one. Nothing fancy.”
Bella leaned against the frame, grin spreading slow and wicked. “A dress? For what?” Her voice dripped with mock innocence. “Don’t tell me Adrian finally asked you on a date.”
I swallowed, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. “He asked,” I admitted, keeping my tone clipped.
Her laugh rang out like she’d won some bet. “About damn time. Come on, army girl, let’s make you irresistible.”
She pulled a sleek black dress from her wardrobe—simple, elegant, the kind that fit like it was made to melt second glances into stares. I muttered a thank you, but Bella was already winking knowingly as she shoved me toward the mirror.
Makeup wasn’t usually my armor of choice, but tonight I traced eyeliner over my lashes, pressed color into my lips, and let the reflection staring back at me remind me I was more than an agent, more than a spy tangled in lies. I was still a woman. A woman about to walk into the lion’s den willingly.
Of course, I slid two guns into place—one at my thigh beneath the hemline, another tucked neatly into the clutch Bella insisted I carry. Safety first.
When I finally descended the stairs, Adrian was waiting at the bottom.
And God help me.
A tailored suit clung to his frame like sin, the black fabric hugging his broad shoulders, crisp white shirt open just enough at the collar to make my throat dry. His gaze traveled the length of me slow, deliberate, a predator savoring his prey.
I forced my attention lower, scanning for the familiar bulges of holsters. My hands moved on instinct, brushing over his chest, sliding briefly at his waist to check for weapons.
His mouth curved into that infuriating, devastating smirk. “This isn’t exactly the way I thought you’d be touching me tonight.”
My cheeks burned, but I refused to back down, tilting my chin. “Just making sure the King doesn’t forget his crown jewels.”
His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too pleased. He leaned in, close enough that his breath tickled my ear. “Careful, Amanda. You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like fire,” I whispered back.
The way his eyes darkened told me he knew exactly how dangerous this game had become.
He held out his arm, and despite every alarm blaring in my head, I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow. He led me out to the car, and within minutes, we were driving through the city.
The restaurant was exactly what I’d expected from Adrian De Lucca—exclusive, elegant, the kind of place where a single bottle of wine cost more than I made in a month. It sat under the Mancini family’s name, another one of his “allies,” if you could call them that.
The ma?tre d’ greeted him with a bow of the head, like royalty had arrived. And maybe that was the truth—because the way Adrian walked, shoulders squared, eyes sharp and commanding, made it impossible not to feel the weight of his presence.
He didn’t just own the room. He consumed it.
And somehow, impossibly, he made me feel like the only person inside it who mattered.