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Chapter Sixteen

Romeo

The cold night air bites at my skin as I step out of the car, my boots crunching against the gravel outside the abandoned warehouse. The scent of blood and sweat hits me immediately, thick in the air like a suffocating fog.

My men have done their job well—Salvatore’s lackeys are bound and gagged, kneeling on the damp floor, their eyes wide with fear as I approach.

“Boss,” Matteo greets me, his voice low and even, though his sharp eyes gleam with anticipation. Blood splatters his knuckles, evidence of the work already done. “They’re ready to talk.”

I nod, my gaze sweeping over the men. Four of them, all trembling, their faces pale under the flickering overhead light. Each one is a weak link, an opportunity to unravel Salvatore’s plans. I savor their terror as I step closer, the cold satisfaction curling in my chest.

The first man is wiry, his face already battered, a cut above his eye leaking blood down his cheek.

I crouch in front of him, gripping his jaw and forcing him to meet my gaze. “You were part of the ambush tonight,” I say, my voice low but lethal. “You spilled blood on my streets. Now, you’re going to tell me everything.”

The man shakes his head violently, his muffled cries escaping behind the gag. I release him, standing to my full height, and nod to Matteo.

Matteo steps forward without hesitation, his fist slamming into the man’s ribs with a sickening crack. The prisoner lets out a strangled scream, his body jerking against the ropes.

Matteo’s expression is cold, his blows measured and precise, breaking the man down piece by piece.

“Enough,” I say, my tone soft but commanding, as if I were ending a casual conversation.

Matteo steps back, his shoulders heaving from the exertion, his bloodied fist hanging loosely by his side. I crouch again, speaking directly to the man gasping for breath at my feet.

“Tell me where Salvatore is hiding,” I say, my voice calm as I tilt my head. “Make this easy.”

The man hesitates, his eyes darting wildly between me and Matteo. When I see the first signs of surrender—his shoulders slumping, his head dropping forward—I pull the gag free.

“The docks,” he rasps, his voice raw. “Warehouse thirteen. He’s meeting a supplier tomorrow.”

I glance at Matteo, who gives a sharp nod. “Verify it,” I order, my tone cold. “If he’s lying, kill him first.”

Matteo moves quickly, stepping outside to relay the orders to our men. I stay behind, watching the prisoner sag in relief as if his words have bought him some mercy.

“They haven’t,” I murmur, standing over him. “Your loyalty to Salvatore is misplaced. If this information doesn’t check out, your suffering will be legendary.”

The man collapses further, his sobs muffled by his hands as I turn my attention to the others. “The rest of you,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Prove your loyalty, or you’ll end up worse than him.”

With that, I turn and stride away, Matteo on my heels. We’ll go to the warehouse and end this now.

Outside the warehouse an hour later, the air is even colder. Matteo leans against the car, lighting a cigarette with his bloodied hand. The brief flare of the lighter illuminates the harsh angles of his face. He inhales deeply, exhaling a plume of smoke that curls into the night.

“You went easy on them,” he says casually, his tone almost conversational.

I glare at him, brushing dust from my sleeves. “Do you think they would’ve spoken if I’d killed them outright?”

Matteo shrugs, his smirk faint. “They’re Salvatore’s men. Weaklings. Break one, and the others talk.”

I ignore his jab, stepping toward the car, but his voice stops me. “You’re distracted.”

I turn slowly, narrowing my eyes at him. “Be careful, Matteo.”

He doesn’t flinch. “You’ve been different since Viviana came into the picture. Sloppier. Less focused.”

“Sloppier?” I snap, my voice sharp. “That’s bold coming from you.”

He takes another drag, exhaling slowly before speaking again. “It’s not an insult. It’s an observation. She’s in your head, Romeo. She’s clouding your judgment.”

My jaw tightens, but I don’t respond. Matteo presses on, his tone hardening. “I’ve seen this before. A man thinks he can have it all—power, control, and some woman to fill the void. It never ends well.”

I take a step toward him, my presence towering. “She’s not just some woman.”

“No, she’s not,” Matteo says, his voice quieter but no less pointed. “That’s the problem.”

For a moment, the tension between us crackles, sharp and electric. Matteo doesn’t back down, his sharp gaze boring into mine. It’s a reminder of why I keep him close—he’s loyal, but he’s not afraid to challenge me.

“She’s my weakness,” I admit finally, my voice low. “She’s also my strength.”

Matteo raises an eyebrow, exhaling smoke through his nose. “That’s a dangerous combination, boss. You’ve built an empire on control. Don’t let her be the thing that topples it.”

I glance away, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Matteo doesn’t understand. He’s never known what it’s like to crave something so deeply it consumes you, to see fire in someone’s eyes and want to harness it, even if it burns you.

“She’s mine,” I say, my tone final. “She’s part of this now, whether she likes it or not.”

Matteo shakes his head but doesn’t argue further. He flicks the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under his boot. “Just don’t let her get in the way of what needs to be done. Salvatore isn’t going to wait for you to figure it out.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice clipped. “He’ll pay for what he’s done. To my brother. To my business. To me.”

Matteo nods, stepping aside as I get into the car. The drive back is silent, but his words linger, settling in the back of my mind like a thorn I can’t dislodge.

Viviana isn’t just a complication. She’s a part of me now, as vital as the blood running through my veins.

If Salvatore thinks he can use her against me, he’ll learn the hard way just how dangerous I can be.

The inside of the warehouse is chaos—crates shattered, merchandise strewn across the floor, and the muffled groans of Salvatore’s men filling the air.

Blood stains the cold concrete in jagged pools, evidence of the swift and brutal work my men have already begun. I step over a fallen body, my boots leaving dark smudges in the spreading red.

“Where’s Salvatore?” I bark at one of the men who is still conscious, a wiry figure with a bloodied face crumpled near the wall. He flinches as I approach, his eyes darting wildly like a cornered animal.

“I—I don’t know,” he stammers, his voice trembling. “He was supposed to be here—please, I swear—”

I cut him off with a nod to Matteo, who steps forward without hesitation. Matteo’s blade flashes in the dim light, and the man’s pleas end abruptly in a gurgling choke. The body collapses, lifeless, as Matteo wipes the blade clean on the man’s shirt.

“He’s not here,” Matteo says, his voice calm, though his frustration is evident. “We missed him.”

I grind my teeth, anger simmering beneath my carefully controlled exterior. Salvatore’s evasion is becoming a pattern, and the more elusive he becomes, the more I want his head. Still, I focus on the task at hand. The men who were foolish enough to stand against me won’t be walking out of here.

“Kill them all,” I order, my voice cold and final. “Leave no witnesses.”

My men move swiftly, the sound of silenced gunfire and the wet thud of bodies hitting the floor filling the warehouse. I stand amidst the carnage, my gaze scanning the crates stacked high against the walls. Something about the meticulous way they’re arranged catches my attention.

I pry open one of the crates, and the contents inside glimmer under the overhead lights. Antique jewelry—necklaces, rings, bracelets—delicate pieces that reek of wealth and history. It’s not the weapons or drugs I was expecting, but it tells me something: Salvatore’s reach is broader than I thought.

As I sift through the pieces, one necklace catches my eye. It’s elegant and understated—a thin gold chain with a pendant shaped like a teardrop, encrusted with tiny diamonds. It’s not flashy, but there’s something timeless about it. Something that reminds me of Viviana.

I lift it from the crate, the cool metal slipping through my fingers. Matteo steps up beside me, glancing at the necklace with a raised brow.

“Sentimental, boss?” he asks, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity.

I smirk, slipping the necklace into my pocket. “Call it an investment.”

Matteo doesn’t comment further, but I catch the faint hint of disapproval in his expression.

He doesn’t understand, and I don’t care.

***

Back at the penthouse, I find Viviana in the library, curled up in one of the armchairs, her legs tucked under her. A book rests in her lap, though she’s clearly not reading it.

Her gaze is distant, her features softer than usual, as if she’s lost in thought. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability, one I’m reluctant to interrupt.

“Viviana,” I call, stepping into the room.

She looks up sharply, her expression hardening instantly, the fire I’ve grown to expect flickering to life. “What do you want?”

I smirk, stepping closer. “Come with me. I have something for you.”

She narrows her eyes, suspicion etched across her face. “Why do I feel like this isn’t going to be something I want?”

“Trust me,” I say simply. It’s a deliberate choice of words, knowing how much she resents the idea. She doesn’t respond, but after a moment’s hesitation, she follows me, her movements cautious and deliberate.

In the sitting room, I retrieve the small velvet box from my pocket and hold it out to her. She looks at it, then back at me, her eyes narrowing further. “What’s this?” she asks, her tone guarded.

“A gift,” I reply, flipping the lid open to reveal the delicate gold necklace inside. The teardrop-shaped pendant catches the light, its diamonds sparkling faintly. “I thought it would suit you.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes flickering down to the necklace before quickly snapping back up to meet mine. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” I say smoothly, watching her reaction closely. “And because it reminded me of you.”

Her lips press into a tight line, and she crosses her arms. “You don’t give things away without a reason, Romeo. What do you want?”

I step closer, holding the box out until it’s inches from her hands. “Sometimes, Viviana, I want things simply because they make me think of you. Take it.”

She hesitates, her gaze darting to the necklace again. The defiance in her eyes falters, just for a moment, before she finally reaches out, her fingers brushing against the velvet as she takes the box. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she says quietly, almost to herself.

“Doesn’t it?” I ask, stepping even closer. “Then why did you take it?”

Her jaw tightens, and she turns away slightly, clutching the box as if it might burn her. “This doesn’t change anything,” she says, her voice stronger now. “You can’t buy me.”

“I’m not trying to,” I reply, my tone softer than I intended. “I’m trying to understand why you resist so much.”

She spins back to face me, her eyes blazing. “Because you don’t love me, Romeo. No matter how many gifts you give me, no matter how much you try to control me, you’ll never love me.”

The words hit harder than I expect, but I step closer, refusing to let her retreat. “You think this is about love?” I murmur. “It’s not. It’s about you. About safety, about understanding one another.”

Her breath catches, her fingers tightening on the box as she looks up at me. For a moment, the tension between us feels almost unbearable, a silent battle of wills neither of us is willing to lose.

“A marriage is supposed to be about love,” she whispers. “You cannot marry me, not truly, if you cannot love me, Romeo.”

Before I can press further, my phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the moment. I pull it out, Matteo’s name flashing on the screen. My irritation flares, but I answer, knowing he wouldn’t call without a reason.

“Antonio escaped,” Matteo says, his tone sharp. “He’s gone.”

I hang up without a word, my jaw tightening as the implications sink in. The game has shifted, and the threat to Viviana just became much more real.