2. Giuliano
2
GIULIANO
T here's a specific kind of quiet that comes before everything changes. I felt it in the air tonight, mixing with the salt breeze that crept through the compound's gardens. Providence's lights winked at me through the study windows as if the city knew what waited in its future.
Her surveillance photo lay face-down on my desk. I'd stopped looking at it hours ago, but I could still see those eyes. That defiance.
Somewhere out there in that glittering sprawl of lights, she was probably getting ready for bed, no idea her world would shatter tomorrow.
I caught my reflection in the window—straightened my tie, ran a hand through my dark curls. The glass made my olive skin look almost ghostly in the darkness. I looked like someone else standing there, someone worthy of the Barbieri name. Or maybe that's what she'd see tomorrow. Wonder if she'd hate me on sight. Not that it mattered.
The weight of my father's ring pressed against my skin as I twisted it. Two years in this office, and it still felt like borrowed space. Like everything else I'd been given—temporary. Conditional.
But not after tomorrow.
The door opened, bringing the scent of leather and gunmetal. My chosen crew filed in like wolves answering a call. Six of Providence's deadliest, each with their own score to settle with Salvatore. And tonight, we'd settle them all.
"Let's go over it one more time," I said, catching Rocco's muttered "for fuck's sake" under his breath.
The Rossi twins had their usual spot at the far end—both sporting that classic Rossi look with the blond hair that had half of Providence's women losing their minds. But that's where the similarity ended. Angelo sat straight-backed in his crisp suit, hair military-short.
Next to him, Rocco sprawled in his chair, longer waves falling in his face as he scrolled his phone. The serpent on his bicep caught the light with each movement. Sometimes I wished that thing would come alive and bite him—might improve his attitude.
"You got a problem with my plan, Rocco?"
The muscle in his jaw twitched. "Me and Angelo take ground floor security. Quick and clean with silencers." There was an edge to his voice that made me glad he was on our side.
"No mess," Angelo added with that trademark calm. "I handle cleanup if needed."
My attention shifted to Nico. His bald head gleamed under the lights, that Zegna suit stretching across his muscled frame as he leaned forward. Even sitting, he looked like he could tear through a wall. "Tech side's handled. Got something special for their system. Midnight, everything goes dark."
"And the cameras?"
Those gray eyes met mine with steady confidence. "Won't know what hit them."
Vincenzo scratched at his stubbled chin, compact frame hiding how quick he could be with a blade. "Been watching their routine for weeks. Guards change at two. That's our window."
"Pattern changed last night," Nico cut in. "Or weren't you watching?"
I caught Vincenzo's hand moving before he did. These men were powder kegs waiting for a spark, but that's exactly what I needed tomorrow.
Luca sat back, watching it all with that unnerving calm of his. Tall and lean, dark hair pulled back neat despite the heavy stubble on his jaw. The kind of quiet that made people nervous. Our fire starter.
Then there was Enzo, immaculate in his designer suit and perfectly trimmed beard, checking his phone like he was reading drink orders instead of infiltration plans. The club owner who'd built his empire right under Salvatore's nose. His helicopter connection might save our asses if things went sideways, but it was those calculating gray eyes that made him worth the risk.
A pounding at the door shattered our focus. Some kid burst in, babbling about police activity next door. His eyes went wide when he realized what room he'd walked into.
I grabbed his collar. "Get out," I growled, shoving him toward the door. "And if you ever interrupt again, you'll wish the police found you first."
I turned back to my men, ice settling in my veins where fire had been. The weight of tomorrow pressed against my chest like a blade.
One shot at this. One chance to prove myself more than just a second son.
"We're done here. Tomorrow, Pearl Salvatore becomes our guest, and her stepfather learns what crossing a Barbieri means."
As my men filed out, I lingered, heat coursing through my veins as thoughts of Pearl consumed me. All that golden hair and bedroom eyes, with lips made for sin and a body that could bring men to their knees. But it was the defiance in her gaze that truly set my blood on fire. The kind of fire I intended to either tame or fuel, depending on how she played her cards.
The approaching sirens barely registered as I slid into my car, mind racing with possibilities. Some might call it an obsession. But in our world, obsession was just another word for ambition.
I caressed my father's ring, feeling its weight. By this time tomorrow, Pearl Salvatore would be mine. Her stepfather's empire would crumble, and my father would finally see me as worthy of the Barbieri name.
In this life, there are those who take what they want and those who watch from the shadows. I've spent enough time in my father's shadow.
Tomorrow, I step into the light. And I'm taking Pearl Salvatore with me.