Page 23 of Devil’s Embrace (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #10)

Chapter Fourteen

Luca

The ledgers never lied. Numbers, territories, profits—they told the cold truth of an empire built on blood and fear.

I leaned back in my leather chair, fingers drumming against the polished mahogany of my desk as dawn broke over the compound.

Three days since I'd put a bullet through Mateo, Junior's skull.

Three days of reorganization, of tightening security, of watching my men's faces for any sign of lingering loyalty to the old regime.

Three days of waking up to the unexpected reality of Emory and Mina just down the hall, alive and unharmed because of choices I'd made that would have been unthinkable a week ago.

I rubbed my eyes, the sting of exhaustion a dull companion I'd grown accustomed to. Sleep had become a luxury, snatched in brief intervals between security briefings and damage control. The Moretti empire wouldn't stabilize itself.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. "Enter," I called, my voice automatically shifting to the hard, authoritative tone my men expected.

Marco entered first, followed by Antonio and three of my other top lieutenants. Their faces were carefully neutral, but I'd learned to read the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes darted around the room before settling on me.

"Report." I straightened the papers before me.

Marco stepped forward. "The Bianchi family has acknowledged your message. They'll respect the new territorial boundaries in exchange for the shipping routes we discussed."

"And the Calabrese crew?" I already knew the answer from the slight tightening of Antonio's jaw.

"Still testing," Antonio replied. "They moved three men into the waterfront district last night."

I nodded slowly, letting the silence stretch just long enough for discomfort to settle over them. "Remove them. Make it public."

No one questioned what "remove" meant. No one needed to.

"The Russo territory?" My gaze drifted briefly to the small framed photo on my desk. Mina's smile, caught in a moment of pure joy as she played in the garden yesterday. I'd ordered the photo printed and framed without fully understanding why.

Vincent cleared his throat. "As instructed, we've moved our people in. Their operations have been absorbed with minimal resistance."

"Their top lieutenants?"

"Two have pledged loyalty. Three refused."

My hand moved to the fountain pen beside the ledger, turning it absently as I made my decision.

"The two who pledged—keep them under surveillance for six months.

Triple their quotas. If they meet them without complaint, they can keep their positions.

" I paused, letting my gaze harden. "The other three need to disappear.

Quietly. I don't want a bloodbath that attracts police attention. "

The men nodded, accepting my orders without question. This was the world I'd inherited, the world I'd mastered. Cold calculations of loyalty and betrayal, life and death. The currency of power.

"One more thing." I looked each man in the eye. "The Moretti compound remains under maximum security protocols. No one enters or leaves without direct clearance from me. No exceptions."

They understood what I wasn't saying. The woman and child living in the east wing were under my protection. Anyone who threatened them would answer to me personally. But they also weren’t allowed to leave without my say so.

"That will be all." I dismissed them with a nod.

They filed out in silence, closing the door behind them. The moment they were gone, I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. I rolled my neck, hearing the vertebrae crack as I released the rigid posture I’d maintained in their presence.

Alone again, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. I pressed my fingers against my temples, massaging away the beginning of a headache. Three days of barely sleeping, of constant vigilance, of restructuring an empire while protecting the woman and child who had somehow become my priority.

I rose from my desk and moved to the window overlooking the estate gardens.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, the rosebushes my mother had planted decades ago now in full bloom.

I'd seen Emory walking there yesterday afternoon, Mina skipping beside her, pointing at butterflies.

The sight had stopped me mid-sentence during a call with our Miami connection, a momentary lapse that would have been unthinkable before they arrived.

My phone buzzed on the desk behind me. I checked the message—confirmation from security the perimeter was secure, all night patrols reported normal activity.

Since Mateo's death, I'd doubled the guards, installed additional cameras, and personally reviewed every security protocol.

Not just to protect my territory, but to protect them.

I traced the scar that ran from my temple to my jaw, a souvenir from my first kill at fifteen. Mateo had been proud that day, had taken me for my first drink afterward. "Now you're truly a Moretti," he'd said, his hand heavy on my shoulder.

I’d changed since then. The Devil he'd created, the perfect weapon he'd forged, now used the full force of the Moretti empire to protect a woman and child who should have been nothing more than loose ends to eliminate.

I straightened my tie, a simple, automatic gesture that centered me back into the role I'd perfected.

Luca Moretti, head of the family. The Devil himself.

But as I moved toward the door, intending to visit Emory's suite, I felt the familiar shift inside me—the hardened crime boss giving way to something I still couldn't name.

Something that made my heart beat faster at the thought of seeing her, of seeing Mina's smile in person rather than in a photograph.

I paused with my hand on the doorknob, struck by the absurdity of my situation.

I'd killed my uncle and his son without hesitation.

I'd ordered the deaths of countless men who threatened my business or questioned my authority.

Yet here I stood, momentarily uncertain about knocking on a woman's door to ask her to breakfast.

This was weakness. This was vulnerability. Everything Mateo had trained me to avoid, to despise.

And yet, as I pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. For the first time in my life, I had something to protect that mattered more than power or territory or the family name.

I moved through the compound with purposeful strides, my expression neutral as I passed guards who nodded respectfully.

To them, I was still the ruthless leader who had eliminated all threats to his control.

They didn't need to see the conflict raging beneath the surface, the unfamiliar emotions I was still learning to navigate.

As I approached Emory's suite, I paused to collect myself.

She would be awake by now—I'd learned she rose with the sun, often standing at her window watching the gardens as dawn broke.

Would she welcome my presence? Or would the light of day have her regretting the closeness we'd shared in the aftermath of violence?

Only one way to find out. I knocked on her door, three sharp raps that echoed my heartbeat.

Emory

The sunrise painted the gardens gold, catching on the dew-covered roses and making them glitter like something from a fairy tale.

I stood at the window, one hand pressed against the cool glass, watching as light crept across the manicured lawns of the Moretti estate.

Three days since Luca had put a bullet through Mateo, Junior's head.

Three days of adjusting to this strange new reality where my daughter and I lived in luxury under the protection of a man I'd watched kill without hesitation.

A man I couldn't seem to stop thinking about.

I ran my fingers over the sleeve of my robe, the silk cool and whisper-soft against my skin.

Luca had arranged for an entire wardrobe for both Mina and me—clothes more expensive than anything I'd ever owned appearing in our closets as if by magic.

When I'd protested, he'd simply shrugged and said, "You need clothes.

I provided them." As if it were the most natural thing in the world to spend thousands on a woman he barely knew.

A gilded cage, that's what I'd called it at first. But the truth I didn't want to face was how comfortable this cage had become.

How quickly I'd adjusted to soft beds and hot showers that never ran cold, to meals prepared by a private chef, to the quiet efficiency of a staff who anticipated our every need.

I shifted my robe, wincing as the silk brushed against a tender spot on my upper arm.

Pulling the sleeve back, I examined the bruises blooming purple and yellow across my skin—souvenirs from our fight with Mateo and his son.

Finger-shaped marks where one of the men had grabbed me before Luca had found us that first time.

Physical reminders of how close we'd come to death.

How strange that those bruises bothered me less than the others—the marks Luca had left on my inner thighs, my hips, my neck during our moments of passion. I could still feel his touch like a phantom pressure against my skin.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. That had been desperation, fear, a momentary weakness we'd both succumbed to. It meant nothing. Couldn't mean anything.

The floor was cool against my bare feet as I padded across the sitting room to the connecting door that led to Mina's room.

I opened it quietly, not wanting to wake her.

The room Luca had provided for her was a little girl's fantasy—pale lavender walls, a canopy bed with gossamer curtains, shelves filled with books and toys.

Mina slept peacefully in the center of her bed, surrounded by a protective circle of stuffed unicorns.

Her blonde hair fanned across the pillow, one small hand curled near her face.

She looked so innocent, so untouched by the violence she'd witnessed.

Children were resilient, the doctors always said. I prayed they were right.

I moved to her bedside, gently brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, her breathing deep and even.

"I'll keep you safe," I whispered, the words a promise I intended to keep no matter what it cost me.

But even as I made the vow, I knew the complications of our situation.

We were safe now because Luca wanted us safe.

Because for reasons I still didn't fully understand, he'd chosen to protect us rather than eliminate us as witnesses.

But what happened when that changed? When he tired of us, or when protecting us became too great a liability for his business?

I returned to my room, the question heavy in my mind.

Catching sight of myself in the full-length mirror beside the closet, I paused, startled by my reflection.

The woman who stared back at me looked different somehow.

My hair was the same blonde, my eyes the same hazel, but something had changed in my face.

There was a hardness that hadn't been there before, a watchfulness in my eyes that spoke of lessons learned through blood and fear.

Three days ago, I'd helped kill a man. I'd thrown that decanter without hesitation, knowing exactly what would follow. The Emory Scott who'd been a secretary, who'd worried about daycare payments and PTA meetings, would have been horrified. The woman in the mirror now accepted it as necessary.

What was happening to me in this place? Was I becoming someone I wouldn't recognize? Or was this who I'd always been beneath the surface—someone capable of violence when pushed, someone who could adapt to this dangerous world?

A sudden knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. Three sharp raps, authoritative and unmistakable. My heart jumped into my throat, my body responding to that sound before my mind could intervene.

I smoothed my robe, tucked my hair behind my ears, then moved to open the door.

Luca stood in the hallway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his posture perfect.

The scar along his jawline caught the morning light, a reminder of the violence that had shaped him.

His gaze met mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"Good morning." His deep voice sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"I was up." I hated how breathless I sounded. "Watching the sunrise."

His gaze moved past me to the window, then back to my face. Something flickered in their depths—an emotion I couldn't name but that made my chest tighten with anticipation.

"I wondered if you and Mina would join me for breakfast." The invitation sounded oddly formal given everything we'd been through together. Everything we'd done together.

I hesitated, my body betraying me with its immediate response to his proximity—heart racing, skin warming, a flutter low in my belly that had nothing to do with hunger for food.

My mind screamed warnings about the dangerous path I was walking, about the monster I was allowing into my life, into my daughter's life.

But the same mind reminded me that this monster had killed to protect us. Had bled for us. Had shown Mina nothing but gentleness despite the violence in his nature.

"Mina would like that." I refused to reveal my own feelings on the matter. "She's still sleeping, but I can wake her."

"No rush." Luca’s gaze dropped briefly to where my robe had parted slightly at the neck, revealing the faint shadow of a bruise his mouth had left days ago.

When his gaze met mine again, his eyes had darkened with a hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast. "I'll have the kitchen prepare something special for her. "

The simple consideration for my daughter's happiness melted something inside me I'd been trying desperately to keep frozen. This was how he disarmed me, how he slipped past my defenses—not with grand gestures or passionate embraces, but with small kindnesses directed at Mina.

"Give us fifteen minutes."

He nodded once, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'll be waiting."

As I closed the door, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood, trying to slow my racing heart. This attraction was dangerous—more dangerous than bullets or rival mobsters. Because unlike those threats, I wasn't sure I wanted to resist it anymore.