Page 21 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Luca

A few hours after I ordered my driver to take Ariel home, I pulled my Aston Martin DBS Superleggera into the driveway of my estate.

The house is a two-story architectural marvel, sitting on five acres of land—secluded, private, and heavily secured. High perimeter walls lined with motion sensors surround the property, with armed guards stationed at the gate and another patrolling the grounds in shifts.

It’s one of the largest homes in the city, a symbol of power and wealth. I gifted it to myself the day I officially took over the family business.

A Mob boss needs a house that sends a message. But now, as I sit behind the wheel looking up at it, it just feels… empty.

I live here alone, aside from Griselda, my live-in housekeeper. She was hired as my nanny when I was a kid and has stayed with me ever since.

Claudia tried to fire her after my father died, actually had her isolated on some island for years. Probably because she suspected Griselda was fucking him. She was right, but I never confirmed it.

What I do know is this, Griselda was more of a mother to me than Claudia ever was. I step inside, the heavy front door closing with a soft click behind me. Griselda is already there waiting—just like always.

“Luca. Busy day at work?” she asks.

“Always.”

“Shall I have your dinner brought to the dining room?”

“No, I’m not that hungry. I’ll just have a glass of water.”

“Very well.”

“I’ll be in my study,” I say, already loosening the buttons of my jacket as I head down the hall. I sling the jacket over the lounger and pour myself a glass of whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard.

With a sigh, I sink into the leather chair behind my desk and take a long gulp. The burn is sharp, but familiar. I loosen my tie, unfasten a few buttons on my shirt, and lean back.

Dr. Eli. That bastard. A man from my own city… chasing what’s mine, I start to think of way to end him, I could have is car messing with and end him by car accident or gas explosion in is home.

Griselda steps inside cutting my thoughts short, she’s balancing a tray. Not just a glass of water like I asked, but fruits, nuts, cheese, and a small plate of olives.

“Here you go.”

“This is more than just water,” I say, eyeing the tray.

“You drink like a man trying to forget he has a liver. At least eat something with it.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?”

“Since you started acting like you’re invincible. You may run the city now, but even lions need rest and food.”

I take the water and sip it then pop some fruit in my mouth, just to appease her.

“Griselda…” I pause. “Thank you.”

She knows everything about the family business, one of the many reasons I’ve kept her under my protection from the moment I became head of the family.

I searched every damn island under our name until I found her. She’s been with me ever since. Claudia would have her killed the second I let her out of my sight.

“Oh, before I forget,” she says, pointing at a brown file on my desk. “One of the guards brought this up. Said someone left it in the mailbox. It’s already been scanned—he said it’s safe.”

I nod and reach for the file, I know it from Alessio, it’s how he sends intel.

“Also, I kept your dinner warm in case you change your mind.”

“Alright. You can go rest now, Griselda. I’ll take it from here.”

She gives me one last look, that same motherly concern in her eyes, then turns and leaves the room quietly.

I pull the contents from the file. Inside is Vito’s call log, evidence that he’s been in contact with Romano’s men. One number stands out, flagged with a name I know all too well: Finn, Romano’s second-in-command.

I was right all along. Vito will do anything to see me dead. That shootout—it was an attempt on my life.

He wanted it to look like a random drive-by, a stray bullet meant for someone else. I can already see the headline: “ Only heir of the Falcone empire gunned down leaving a nightclub .”

“Fuck,” I mutter, my knuckles tightening around the edge of the paper. I’ve tolerated him this long because he’s my father’s little brother, someone I once looked up to. But I earned this position. I bled for it.

He wants the throne without the scars. It’s time to clip his wings. First, I’ll take out the ones backing him. Strip away his power, his protection.

Without them, he’s nothing but a rotting piece of shit waiting to be scraped off the floor. I flip to the next page and see the name: Ariel Lane.

My mood lifts, just slightly.

Maiden name: Harrison.

Age: Twenty-seven.

I already knew that, so I skimmed ahead.

Mother of: Noah Liam Lane.

That makes me stop cold.

My jaw tightens. She has a child?

Who’s the father?

Is it that damn doctor?

It can’t be.

Age: Seven.

Birthday: November 26th, 2018.

My brain starts to do the math.

Seven years old…

The same year she left.

My eyes widened.

He could be mine.

My hand flies to my hair, dragging through it, rough and unsteady. I need to see him. Now. I shoot up from the chair, not bothering to grab my suit jacket. I storm out of the study, down the hall, and out the front door.

The drive to Ariel’s house feels endless. I can’t think straight. He could be my child, I keep repeating to myself over and over.

All those years I missed his first steps, his first words. All the things I should’ve done with him. Why didn’t she tell me? My hand tightens around the steering wheel.

My jaw clenches. A voice in the back of my mind whispers, What if he’s not yours? What if she was fucking someone else while she was with you? Fuck. That can’t be. It can’t be.

My already loosened tie starts to feel like a noose. With one hand on the wheel, I yank it off with the other, throwing it to the passenger seat.

I pull up in front of her house. No hesitation. No breath. I march straight to the door and start banging like a man half-crazed.

“Ariel, open the damn door. I know you’re in there.” I pound again, this time softer. “Kitten,” I say, bringing my voice down, “I just want to talk.”

Still no answer. Jaw clenched, I yank my phone from my pocket. A few taps and I’m calling her. It rings and rings, then cuts to voicemail. I call again.

“Goddammit, woman. Pick up the damn phone.” Voicemail. Again. Enough of this. I scroll to Ray—short for Raymond, one of my guards assigned to keep eyes on her.

Only a few people—my family—know about my ties to the mob. Those who do call me Don or boss. Ray and the guards? They don’t ask questions. They just follow orders. He answers on the second ring.

“Mr. Falcone.”

“Where is she?” I’m already striding back toward my car as I speak.

“She’s at Ashgrove Medical."

My steps freeze.

“And why the hell wasn’t that reported to me?”

There’s a pause. Too long.

“We didn’t think it was… worth reporting.”

Fuck, I need to have a talk with my head of security.