Chapter 14
POV: Amanda
I’d only ever seen her in black-and-white photographs inside old dossiers.
A woman in pearls and gloves, always standing beside her husband like a shadow with a crown.
But now… she was vivid. Alive. Her dark hair streaked elegantly with silver, swept into a perfect chignon.
Her clothes were nothing short of regal: tailored trousers and a silk blouse in a jewel tone that should’ve screamed extravagance but, somehow, looked effortlessly chic.
She wore color the way Bella did—fearlessly, elegantly.
The aura of a woman who never once had to ask for respect.
And yet, when she smiled, she wasn’t the queen of the De Lucca empire. She was a mother.
“Riccardo!” she exclaimed, rushing to him first.
Her arms wrapped around him so tight I thought she might break him in half, kissing his cheeks once, twice, three times before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Pure Italian affection, overwhelming and fierce.
“Il mio cuore,” she whispered against his hair. “They treat you well here?”
“Yes, Mama,” he murmured, and for the first time since I’d met him, Riccardo actually looked boyish.
She finally released him, turning with bright eyes to her daughter. “Bella, mia piccola!” She pinched Bella’s cheeks like she was still twelve, then cupped her face and kissed her, too. “Look at you—you’re bellissima. This outfit—stunning. Always so much style, just like your mamma.”
Bella rolled her eyes, but she was glowing, basking in that warmth.
And then… Adrian.
He stood tall, unmovable, but I caught the tiniest flicker of something in his expression. Softness. Respect. Love.
Giuliana’s eyes softened, too, but she gave him a playful little bow before closing the distance. “Il mio re,” she teased. My king. Then she hugged him, too, fiercely despite his broad frame. “I heard you were shot.”
Adrian tensed, just slightly, and answered, “It’s nothing.”
Her hand pressed to his chest, right where the bullet had grazed him. “Don’t lie to me, Adriano. I know it was because of Riccardo, and I’m grateful you protected your brother.” Her voice lowered, almost reverent. “Your father would be proud.”
Adrian didn’t answer, but something in his jaw tightened, and the silence felt like a vow.
And then—her eyes shifted.
To me.
I had been standing back, hands behind my back, trying to look composed when every inch of me was a live wire. My heart thudded like I was about to face a firing squad.
Giuliana De Lucca looked at me with sharp, assessing eyes—the kind that had seen everything and missed nothing.
“And you?” she asked, her Italian accent curling around the words. “Who are you?”
Her gaze sliced straight through me.
And I felt the cold run down my spine.
Her eyes pinned me in place. Green—exactly like Bella’s, though sharper, older, cutting straight through me.
“And you?” she asked again, like a queen demanding an answer.
My palms were damp, but I forced my hand forward anyway, professional, neutral. “I’m Mr. De Luca’s bodyguard,” I said evenly. “After the second attempt… Bella thought it would be wise for him to have more protection. She insisted. So I was hired.”
Her gaze narrowed, lids heavy, head tilted just so. “A woman?” she said, almost to herself, the syllables rich with disbelief.
I kept my spine straight, my voice steady. “I served in the army,” I continued, skipping the years with the police, the messier part of my history. “Decorated. Commendations for valor. I’m more than qualified to ensure the De Lucca family’s safety.”
I lifted my chin a fraction, the old instinct of standing before commanding officers kicking in. “And I proved myself in the last attempt when I took a bullet for them.”
“She’s right,” Adrian murmured, his voice lower, darker, meant only for her. “I lost control that night because Bella was in the target. Amanda stepped in.”
The sound of my name in his mouth was enough to send a shiver down my spine. Before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “And you saved me later.”
His gaze caught mine, heat sparking, and the corner of his mouth curved into that smirk that always undid me.
Giuliana’s eyes darted between us, unreadable for a beat. Then she reached out—taking my extended hand only to lower it firmly. For a single frozen second, my stomach dropped. She disapproved.
But instead, she pulled me into her arms.
Warm. Fierce. Like she had known me forever.
“I’m so lucky we have you,” she whispered against my cheek before pressing a kiss there. “Lucky you saved them.”
Relief washed through me so strongly I nearly sagged against her.
Then, just as quickly, she released me, turning toward the grand staircase.
“I’ve asked someone to take my suitcases to my room. I need a shower. And a proper dinner with my children. Dio mio, the food on airplanes—it is tasteless, a crime against the senses.”
She waved a hand, already halfway gone, her presence like a storm that left everyone stunned in its wake.
The house seemed quieter once she disappeared. I finally exhaled, shoulders loosening, but before I could even gather myself, Adrian’s hand slid around my waist. He pulled me closer in one smooth motion, his lips brushing my temple.
“You did great,” he murmured, voice for me alone.
Then he kissed me. Quick, hot, claiming—before pulling away to follow his mother.
And I stood there, pulse pounding, wondering how I was supposed to survive living in this family’s world.
The long dining table gleamed under the chandelier, silverware aligned like weapons ready for use. Giuliana sat at the head, her presence filling the room more than the glittering crystal ever could. Bella to her right, Ricardo to her left, Adrian across from me.
Unfortunately.
Or maybe dangerously.
Because every time I lifted my glass, his foot brushed mine. When I set my fork down, his knee pressed against my leg. And once—when Giuliana was laughing with Bella about some cousin in Milan—he slid the toe of his shoe along the inside of my calf.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t twitch. I didn’t breathe. My pulse was galloping, but my face stayed perfectly composed, eyes fixed on Giuliana like she was the only one in the world speaking.
Professional. Always professional.
Except for the fact that Adrian De Luca was trying to make me lose it under the table like a smug bastard.
“…and tell me again, tesoro,” Giuliana’s voice cut through my inner spiral, rich and commanding. “This last attempt. It happened after Esposito’s dinner, sì?”
My mouth was dry, but I forced myself to lean in, steady.
“Yes. That dinner was where I recommended changes to the shipments—and when Adrian was seen at the docks. The attack came right after. It’s not official, but someone had information they shouldn’t have. They knew Adrian would be there.
Which means someone at that table may have passed it into the wrong hands.”
The room shifted. Silence thickened. Even Bella’s playful spark dimmed.
Adrian finally sat back, withdrawing his foot, his attention narrowing like a blade. “She’s right. Everyone at that dinner knew about the docks. The next day—there was an attempt.”
Ricardo cursed under his breath. Bella muttered something sharp in Italian.
Giuliana’s green eyes pinned me. Not cold. Assessing. Like a general measuring the worth of her soldier. “So you are suggesting,” she said slowly, “that the traitor dined with us. Ate our bread, drank our wine… and then handed us to the wolves?”
My throat tightened. “It’s possible. And even if it wasn’t direct, it could’ve been someone close. Someone listening. A weak link. We need to consider all possibilities.”
The table vibrated with restrained fury.
My chest was tight with it, but I pushed on.
“You’re right—we should suspect anyone. But I don’t believe it’s one of the local families. They’ve worked too long, too steadily with you. If I had to guess, it’s coming from outside. Another territory. Someone ambitious enough to cut in, but cautious enough to move through shadows first.
I’ll make some calls, see what I can trace.”
Giuliana’s lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but approval. “Sharp eyes,” she murmured. “Another mind at this table is not a bad thing.”
Something inside me unwound at that. A small knot of relief, warm and unfamiliar.
The conversation spiraled after that—names, territories, probabilities. I contributed when asked, kept my tone measured, and ignored the heat of Adrian’s gaze burning into me every time I spoke.
By the end of the meal, the tension still hung, but Giuliana seemed satisfied enough to let it rest for the night.
“I’ll excuse myself,” I said, pushing my chair back, my voice polite and clipped. “Thank you for the dinner.”
Giuliana nodded, already distracted with Bella and Ricardo. Adrian? He was still watching me.
I made it halfway up the stairs when I heard the scrape of a chair. Footsteps. And then—suddenly—air rushed past my ears as Adrian lifted me clean off the ground, throwing me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
“Adrian!” I hissed, pounding his back with my fists. “Put me down!”
His laugh was low, dangerous, and far too pleased with himself. “I told you this morning,” he said, carrying me effortlessly down the hall, “you’d want my room by tonight.”
I squirmed, breathless and furious and wildly turned on all at once. “That’s not what I said!”
He smacked my thigh lightly, wicked. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it is.”
My pulse thundered as he kicked his bedroom door shut behind us.
And God help me—I didn’t even want him to put me down.