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Chapter Eighteen

Romeo

The bullet with Viviana’s name etched into its surface sits on my desk, gleaming under the dim light of my study.

It’s not just a threat—it’s a declaration of war.

Salvatore crossed a line he can’t uncross, and I’ll make sure he pays for every inch of it.

My hands curl into fists, the veins in my forearms standing out as I battle the fury coursing through me.

“Matteo,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

Matteo, seated across from me, doesn’t flinch. He’s grown used to my temper, but even he looks uneasy as he glances at the bullet. “We know his safe houses,” Matteo says carefully. “If he’s not there, we can smoke him out. But we need more leverage.”

I lean forward, my palms pressing into the desk. “Leverage? He just sent a bullet with Viviana’s name on it. That’s all the leverage I need.”

Matteo holds my gaze, unflinching. “We can’t just hit him blind. If this fails, Salvatore will retaliate harder. The stakes are too high, Romeo.”

I grit my teeth, knowing he’s right. As much as I want to storm every one of Salvatore’s strongholds and burn them to the ground, I can’t afford to act impulsively. Not with Viviana in the crossfire.

“Fine,” I bite out. “We’ll set a trap. Leak false information. Make him think we’re vulnerable.”

Matteo nods, already making mental calculations. “Where?”

“Here,” I reply. “On our turf.”

“We lure him in?” Matteo asks.

“We end this,” I say coldly. “No survivors.”

***

Hours later, I return to the penthouse after negotiations with my men, my head still buzzing with plans and strategies.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step into the living room, my gaze immediately landing on Viviana. She’s standing with Matteo near the balcony, her arms crossed and her body language sharp and defiant.

“What is this?” I demand, my voice slicing through the air.

Viviana’s head snaps in my direction, her eyes blazing. “I was asking Matteo to loosen your ridiculous restrictions.”

Matteo clears his throat, his discomfort obvious. “She wanted to discuss the guards, Romeo.”

“I don’t care what she wanted,” I snap, striding toward them. “She doesn’t negotiate with anyone but me.”

Viviana narrows her eyes, her defiance flaring. “I can’t even move without someone watching me. I can’t leave. What if I have things I need?”

“We can bring the things you need here.” I step closer, my presence looming over her.

“It’s not the same,” she fires back, her voice sharp.

I glance at Matteo. “Leave us.”

Matteo hesitates for only a moment before nodding and retreating to the hallway, leaving Viviana and me alone. The silence that follows is thick, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

“This is for your own good,” I order, my voice low and commanding.

She doesn’t move. “No.”

The single word sends a jolt of anger through me, but I force myself to remain calm. “Vivianna, I can’t…can you just do what I ask, please?”

Her lips press into a tight line, and she lifts her chin. “Fuck you.”

“Fine,” I say simply, the word hanging in the air between us. “But you need protection. Until Salvatore is dealt with, you’ll follow my rules.”

Her defiance falters for a moment, and I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the fire that draws me to her like a moth to a flame.

“You can’t control me forever,” she says softly, though her voice lacks its usual sharpness.

“I don’t need forever,” I reply, my tone softer now. “I just need long enough to keep you alive.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I step closer, my hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from her face. She doesn’t flinch, but her breath catches, and I feel the tension in her as she holds herself perfectly still.

“I don’t need your protection,” she says, though her voice trembles.

“Don’t you?” I challenge, my hand moving to her chin, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. “You have no idea what Salvatore is capable of.”

“So you say,” she snaps, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe you’re just as bad.”

The accusation stings, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t understand the things I’ve done to protect what’s mine.”

Her lips part, and for a moment, the fire in her eyes softens. She looks at me, really looks at me, and I see the conflict there—the battle between her fear and the flicker of trust she doesn’t want to admit.

“It won’t always be like this,” I say again, but this time my voice is quieter, less commanding.

She hesitates, then turns and walks away, her steps quick and her shoulders tense. I watch her disappear down the hallway, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on me.

As the door to Viviana’s room closes, the silence of the penthouse wraps around me, heavier than it should be.

I stare at the space where she just stood, my jaw tight, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. There’s a part of me that wants to storm after her, demand that she explain her defiance, her refusal to see that everything I do is for her protection.

I don’t move.

Instead, I stay rooted to the spot, my thoughts spiraling. She gets under my skin in ways no one else ever has, tearing through the careful walls I’ve built around myself with her fire and defiance. I’ve dealt with betrayal, loss, and anger. I’ve built my life on control.

I sink into the leather chair by the window, letting the city lights beyond the glass blur as my mind drifts. For years, I’ve lived without attachments, without weaknesses. People are tools, leverage, or threats—nothing more.

Viviana isn’t a tool. She isn’t leverage. Not anymore. Somewhere along the way, she became something far more dangerous: necessary.

I can’t lose her. Not because of Salvatore, not because of this war, and not because of my own mistakes. The thought clenches in my chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. Caring about her wasn’t part of the plan, but it’s too late for me to stop now.

***

Later that night, I find myself standing outside her door, my hand poised to knock. The rational part of me tells me to walk away, to leave her be.

My instincts drive me forward. I push the door open without waiting for a response.

Viviana is sitting by the window, her knees drawn up to her chest, the faint glow of the city lights illuminating her profile. She doesn’t look at me, but I know she’s aware of my presence.

“You have a habit of ignoring boundaries,” she says quietly, her tone sharp but lacking the usual fire.

“You have a habit of testing mine,” I counter, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me.

She turns to face me then, her expression guarded. “What do you want, Romeo?”

I pause, the weight of her question sinking in. I want many things—her safety, her loyalty, her trust. But none of those feel sufficient for what’s truly gnawing at me.

“I want you to understand,” I say finally, my voice quieter than usual. “Everything I do, every decision I make, is to keep you safe.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Safe? Sure, but that’s only so you can control me.”

“Maybe at first,” I admit, my gaze locking onto hers. “Not anymore.”

Her brows knit together, confusion flickering across her face. “Then what is it now, Romeo? What do you want from me?”

I take a step closer, the tension between us thick and palpable. “You’ve changed me, Viviana,” I say, the words rough and unpracticed at such transparency. “More than I ever wanted to be changed. And I hate it. But I can’t stop it.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I see the war in her expression—the same conflict I feel every time I look at her. “I didn’t ask for that,” she whispers.

“I know,” I reply, my voice softening. “But It’s the truth.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. She looks away first, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And what am I supposed to do with that?” she asks, her tone wavering.

“Whatever you want,” I say, surprising even myself with the honesty in my words. “I can’t change what I feel. I can protect you. I will protect you. It’s what I can offer.”

She exhales sharply, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. “This isn’t protection, Romeo. It’s suffocation.”

I step closer, kneeling in front of her so she can’t avoid my gaze. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wrestle with it every damn day? The alternative is losing you, and that’s something I can’t allow.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes searching mine as if trying to find a lie in my words. There isn’t one. She has to know that by now.

Before she can respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering the moment. I curse under my breath, standing and pulling it out. Matteo’s name flashes on the screen.

“What?” I bark, my tone harsher than intended.

“We have confirmation,” Matteo says, his voice sharp. “Salvatore’s willing to meet.”

I straighten, my jaw tightening. “When?”

“Tomorrow night,” Matteo replies. “There’s a condition. He wants Viviana there.”

My blood turns to ice, and a dangerous fury burns in my chest. “What does he want her for? He won’t get near her.”

“It’s nonnegotiable,” Matteo warns. “He’s testing you.”

I glance at Viviana, who’s watching me intently, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. “I’ll deal with it,” I say, ending the call and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice wary.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I reply. My tone leaves no room for argument. “Get some rest.”

“I can be there. I can help,” she says to me.

“No,” I shoot back.

Her brows draw down. “Romeo, if you want to trust me, and you want me to trust you, let me help.”

“I can’t work that way…you can’t be there…I won’t be able to…just, no, Vivianna, no,” I manage to say.

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push. As I leave the room, my mind races with possibilities. Salvatore’s demand is a trap, a challenge I can’t afford to ignore. If he thinks I’ll use Viviana as a bargaining chip, he’s underestimated just how far I’m willing to go to protect her.

Tomorrow, this war ends. One way or another.

As I leave her room, the door clicking shut behind me, I can’t shake the image of her sitting by the window, her body tense, her eyes sharp and defiant.

My steps are slow as I walk to my study, but my thoughts are anything but calm.

She’s under my skin, embedded in a way that no one has ever been before.

She wants my trust. She wants my love.

I barely know the words.

I should be focusing on Salvatore, on the war I need to end tomorrow, but all I can think about is her—her lips, the way they part in anger or defiance, the way they taste when I claim them. The way her body responds to my touch even when she fights me.

I grip the edge of my desk, the tension in my body unbearable. If I end this tomorrow, if I destroy Salvatore once and for all, maybe she’ll see.

Maybe she’ll understand that everything I’ve done has been for her. Maybe she’ll finally stop fighting and give herself to me—not just in anger, not just because of this magnetic pull between us, but because she wants me.

The thought of her surrender, her fire softened into something I can keep, something I can claim completely, sends a heat through me that I can’t ignore.

She will. After tomorrow, she’ll see the truth. She’ll see me.

When she does, there will be no going back.