Chapter 16
Lucio
E li’s office is dim, lit mostly by the glow of the TV screen mounted on the wall.
No windows. No unnecessary furniture. Just hard edges and cold efficiency.
The walls are lined with dark soundproof panels, muting the chaos from the underground fight club outside.
A large steel desk sits in the center, littered with papers, cigars, and a half-empty glass of whiskey.
The air is thick with the scent of smoke and leather, the remnants of past conversations that ended in either business or blood.
Behind Eli, a wall of surveillance monitors flickers—grainy footage of the fight cages, the bar, the entrance. Every angle of the club is under his constant watch. No one steps foot in here without him knowing.
The fight club hums outside—the distant sound of fists meeting flesh, the roar of a crowd hungry for blood.
But in here, there’s only silence.
The news blares, filling the room with the clipped, professional voice of some anchor.
“Breaking news: this evening, the body of twenty-two-year-old Dana Hoffman, daughter of businessman Ernest Hoffman, was discovered in the woods near the Astoria Regent estate. Authorities estimate the time of death to be between three weeks and a month ago. The family had attended the charity gala held at the hotel approximately one month prior.”
I lean back in my chair, fingers tapping against the armrest.
Dana’s dead.
I should care. I don’t.
A sharp slam jerks me from my thoughts. Emiliano’s palm hits the desk, the force rattling the glass of whiskey beside him.
“Do you know what the fuck you’ve cost us?” His voice is razor-sharp, laced with the kind of controlled fury that makes men flinch.
I don’t.
I tilt my head slightly, watching him with detached amusement. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, bro.”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t play fucking dumb.” He points to the TV. “That. The Hoffmans are breathing down our necks, and you paraded one of their daughters on your arm when someone is out to get you.”
I exhale, dragging a hand over my jaw. “They think I had something to with it?”
Eli’s laugh is dry, humorless. “This is the second Hoffman girl to end up dead. And both of them were in your orbit.” He narrows his eyes. “What do you think?”
I roll my shoulders, unbothered.
“Coincidence,” I mutter.
Eli leans in, his tone dropping into something low and dangerous. “It’s not a fucking coincidence. It’s a problem. There have been countless girls that have been found dead after being with you.”
He pauses, watching for my reaction.
“The feds have also opened a file to investigate if it could be a serial killer. And the only thing at the moment tying those girls together is you. You’ll be number one on their suspect list.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“Meaning you’ll be under watch twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And your apartment risks being bugged to catch you. You’ve become a liability for the Camorra.”
I watch him, my smirk fading slightly. Because he’s right. The Hoffmans are powerful. Not as powerful as us, not like the Camorra, but enough. Enough to make this a pain in the ass. Never mind the damn FBI.
I’m so fucked.
Eli watches me carefully, reading me the way he always does. He presses his palms against the desk, exhaling sharply. “The Hoffmans want something in exchange.”
That makes me pause.
I tilt my head. “What?”
Eli doesn’t answer right away. And that tells me I’m not going to like it.
“The Hoffmans want one of their daughters married into our family. They’re demanding we ‘merge’ our bloodlines.”
“Why would they want that?” I ask, bemused.
Eli sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “Because they want us to merge Folonari Conglomerate with Hoffman Enterprises.”
I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “You’re fucking joking.”
Eli doesn’t blink. He’s not joking. My smirk fades, the tension in my jaw locking tight.
“They think they can leash me like some obedient little husband?” I scoff, rolling my shoulders. “Not happening.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that same measured patience that makes me want to put my fist through a wall. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, challenging.
“They expect me to marry one their spoiled little rich girls? Play the part of the devoted husband while they pull the strings?” I shake my head, scoffing. “No fucking way. I’d rather burn their entire legacy to the ground.”
Eli sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Lucio?—”
I cut him off, my voice low, edged with something sharp. “If they think they can use me as some bargaining chip, they can shove their offer up their entitled fucking asses.”
I clench my fists, my breath steady but heated. “Tell me, do they think marriage will civilize me? Make me a proper fucking gentleman?” I grind my molars together. “If that’s their angle, they’re even dumber than I thought.”
Eli watches me. Lets me rage, lets me simmer. Then, finally, he exhales.
“Not you.” He leans forward, voice cold. “They don’t want you for their daughter. They think you’re diseased.”
I don’t react. Not right away. I watch him, letting the words settle, letting the weight of them press against my ribs like something sharp, something I should feel.
I don’t.
I stretch out in the chair, running my tongue over my teeth and tapping my fingers lazily against the armrest. “Diseased, huh?”
My brother leans back, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s trying to keep his temper in check. Like he’s done with my shit.
“They don’t want you near their daughters,” he mutters. “Not after the shitstorm you’ve stirred up. You’re a liability.”
Dragging my thumb along my jaw, I ask, “So, what? They think my dick’s going to corrupt their bloodline?”
Eli exhales sharply through his nose. “They think you’re reckless. Untamable. A fucking disaster waiting to happen.” His eyes pin me in place. “And they’re not wrong. Apart from the fact you are a fucking disaster already, you’re not waiting to happen.”
I chuckle, unbothered. Because I don’t give a fuck what my brother thinks, let alone what the Hoffmans think. But there’s something else here. Something Eli hasn’t said yet.
“So, if they’re not offering me up as a groom, who’s the unlucky bastard?”
He doesn’t answer right away. And that’s when I know.
I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
He exhales, slow and measured. “It’s Matteo.”
Matteo. Cold. Unflinching. A goddamn machine in human skin.
There’s no way the Hoffmans know what they’re getting into. They think I’m the problem? They think I’m the one too dangerous for their polished, high-society bloodline? They have no fucking clue.
I let out a sigh, stretching my legs out in front of me while rubbing a hand over my jaw. “And which one of their daughters does he get shackled to?”
Eli’s jaw tightens. “The youngest. Vivian.”
Vivian Hoffman. Polished. Perfect. The golden child.
I chuckle again, but this time it lacks any humor. “Matteo’s going to love that.”
Eli’s lips press into a thin line. “He doesn’t care.”
And that’s the real problem. Matteo won’t rage about it, won’t throw a fit, won’t drink himself into stupor or chase distractions to numb the inevitability of it.
He’ll accept it. Not because he’s resigned, not because he’s loyal, but because to him, this is just another strategic move on the board. Another transaction. A means to an end.
And Vivan? She won’t know what’s hit her.
I flick my gaze back to the TV, where Dana’s face is still plastered across the screen—a dead girl who was never mine, but still managed to drag me into her mess.
And now, because of it, my brother is about to get tied to a family that thinks they can control him.
I grind my teeth, leaning forward and resting my forearms on my knees. “And what if Matteo doesn’t want her?”
Eli gives me a look. “Matteo doesn’t want anything. He just takes what’s useful.”
I shake my head, laughing under my breath.
This is fucked.
And something tells me it’s only going to get worse. But for now, my little mouse needs to pay for what she has done.
I think it’s time to lure her out of her hiding place.