Page 29

LUCA

S leep doesn’t come, which isn’t unusual for me. This isn’t the first night to stretch long and heavy, filled with things undone, threats looming. But tonight is different. It’s not business weighing on my chest like a stone, not the enemies at the gates or deals left dangling.

It's my wife.

I sit in the dim glow of the study lamp, a glass of whiskey untouched at my side, and wrestle with the words I should have told her.

The truth about her father. Antonio Russo wasn’t perfect—far from it.

But the man didn’t die because of his gambling debts or because he was a weak fool who got in over his head.

No, Antonio was killed protecting this family, protecting me.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration mounting.

I thought keeping the truth from her would shield her, would give her one less reason to resent me.

But in trying to protect her, I’ve only driven a deeper wedge between us.

The affection that was growing between us seems like a thing of the past, because she’s been avoiding me like the plague, and when she does look at me, its with nothing but rage.

The thought of her looking at me that way forever is unbearable.

By the time dawn breaks, my decision is made. I’ll tell her everything. She deserves that much. Maybe it won’t change her opinion of me, of this life, but at least I won’t have this lie festering between us.

I push away from the desk and head for the bedroom, the halls eerily quiet in the early morning light. The door to our room is closed, but a sliver of light filters through the crack at the bottom.

I knock once.

“Valentina.”

Silence.

I knock again, harder this time.

“Open the door. We need to talk.”

Still nothing. A flicker of irritation sparks in my chest. She’s stubborn, I know that, but this silence is deliberate.

I grip the handle, turning it, but it doesn’t budge.

It’s locked from the inside. A slow, dreadful gut feeling creeps up on me.

This isn’t the first time Valentina has locked the door to me, but something’s different about the silence.

“Valentina,” I bark, my voice low but filled with warning. “This isn’t a game. Open the door.”

Nothing.

I take a step back, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. Fine. If she wants to play this game, I’ll give her space. But when I return, she’s going to hear me out whether she likes it or not.

The hours pass slowly, the estate buzzing with its usual activity. I bury myself in meetings, finalizing plans to counter the growing threat from the Lombardis. Marco updates me on our informants, Dante provides the latest intel on our shipments, and I nod, make decisions, give orders.

But my mind keeps drifting back to Valentina.

By mid-afternoon, I can’t take it anymore. The tension in my chest has grown unbearable, each unanswered question pressing harder against my ribs. I leave the conference room without a word, ignoring the questioning glances from my men as I head for the bedroom.

This time, I don’t knock.

The door is still locked, and my patience is gone. With one swift kick, the door splinters open, slamming against the wall. The sight inside stops me cold.

The room is a mess. Sheets stripped from the bed, drawers left ajar, clothes scattered across the floor.

The air feels stale. She’s gone. I step inside, the floor creaking beneath my weight, and pick up a discarded scarf from the edge of the bed.

It smells like her, light and floral, a scent that’s burned into my memory.

Rage simmers beneath my skin, hot and volatile. “Damn it, Valentina.”

I slam a fist against the doorframe, the wood cracking under the force. My mind races, piecing together the clues I hadn’t noticed before. The way she’s been avoiding me. The coldness in her eyes. And then it hits me like a freight train.

Sofia.

I should’ve known that woman was trouble from the start. Her rebellious streak, her unwavering loyalty to Valentina—it was a recipe for disaster.

I stalk out of the room, barking orders at the nearest guard. “Get Marco. Now.”

Marco meets me in the study within minutes, his expression grim.

“She’s gone,” I say, pacing the length of the room. “Find her.”

“Gone?” Marco raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

I level him with a glare. “Her room is empty. She’s been planning this.”

He doesn’t argue, nodding once. “I’ll put the men on it. Any leads?”

“Sofia.” The name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “She’s been filling Valentina’s head with lies, making her think she can run.”

Marco leans back against the desk, arms crossed. “If she’s with Sofia, she can’t have gotten far. What do you want to do when we find her?”

I don’t answer immediately, my mind churning with possibilities. Punishment? Forgiveness? All I know is that I need her back.

“Bring her home,” I say finally, my voice cold. “And if you find Sofia alone, get her here.”

Hours pass, night deepens, and I find a seat on a chair on my balcony, not caring for how the air bites at me. Outside, the engines of my men’s SUVs growl as they return.

I know, by sheer instinct, that they haven’t found my wife. But as the SUVs stop, Marco steps out with a guard, with Sofia in between them. A wisp of air leaves my lips. If I can’t have my wife tonight, I will, at the very least, have answers.

Minutes later, I stride into the great hall, where Sofia is standing.

I nod at Marco, who leaves immediately. She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated.

She’s wearing a dark coat, buttoned tight, with not a single hair out of place, as if she is attending a business meeting instead of being hauled to the lion’s den.

“Really, Luca?” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dragging me here like some common criminal? I have dinner plans, you know.”

Her flippant tone grates against my nerves, but I don’t let it show. I motion for the remaining guard to leave, my eyes never leaving hers. “Dinner can wait.”

She folds her arms, her expression defiant. “I don’t know where she is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Sit.”

The word is more command than request, and for a moment, she hesitates.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, she lowers herself onto the plush leather chair by the fireplace.

I pace slowly, the weight of the room pressing down as the firelight flickers against the walls.

“You’ve been meddling from the start, Sofia.

Feeding her lies. Planting ideas in her head. Ideas that led her to run.”

Sofia’s laugh is brittle, echoing off the high ceilings. “Ideas? You really think Valentina needed me to plant anything? Luca, you’ve done a fine job driving her away all on your own.”

My fists clench at my sides, but I keep my voice calm. “Careful, Sofia.”

“No, you be careful.” She leans forward, her elbows on her knees, looking at me with a fire that almost impresses me.

“You think you’re the king of the world, don’t you?

Untouchable. But here’s the thing, Luca—Valentina’s not one of your soldiers.

You can’t command her, threaten her, and expect her to stay. ”

“She belongs here,” I growl, my temper slipping through the cracks. “With me. With our child.”

“She belongs somewhere safe,” Sofia snaps back. “And that’s not here. She knows it. I know it. Hell, deep down, you probably know it too.”

I didn’t think it would be possible to hate her more. I step closer, towering over her, my shadow falling across her defiant form. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Her gaze locks onto mine, unflinching. “You think love is control. You think power is safety. But Valentina doesn’t need your empire or your money. She needs a life where she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every damn second. Can you give her that?”

I want to throw her out, to show her what happens to people who cross me. But her words dig into a part of me I’ve buried for years. Can I give Valentina what she needs?

I take a slow breath, my anger cooling into something sharper, more focused. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you sit.”

Sofia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. If anything, she looks amused. “You won’t. You know I’m right. And you might hate me for saying it, but deep down, you respect me for it too.”

Her audacity is maddening, but damn it, there’s truth in her words. I step back, giving her space as I turn toward the window. “If you’re lying about not knowing where she is, I’ll find out. And when I do?—”

“I’m not lying.” Her voice is softer now, almost pitying. “But I’ll tell you this for free: Valentina’s not gone because of me. She left because she’s scared of you.”

The words hit like a fist to the gut, but I refuse to let her see it. Instead, I turn, my face a mask of calm fury. “Get out.”

Sofia rises, smoothing her coat as if she hadn’t just been inches from death. “You know, Luca, for all your faults, you do love her. Maybe if you started showing it, she wouldn’t have run.”

I motion for the guards, my jaw tight as they escort her toward the door. Just before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder, her grin sharp and infuriating. “Good luck, Don Salvatore. You’re going to need it.”

The doors slam shut behind her, and I’m left standing, the echoes of her words swirling in the air.

I hate her. I hate her insolence, her defiance, her maddening ability to speak the truth I don’t want to hear.

But she’s right. And it only makes me angrier.

I drop down on the sofa, unable to keep myself from groaning.

Valentina may be scared of me, but she’s also mine. And no matter where she’s gone, no matter who’s helping her, I will bring her back. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Memories flood my mind—her laughter, the fire in her eyes when she argued with me, the way she softened in my arms when she finally let her guard down.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and let the weight of my anger and regret settle over me. She can run as far as she wants, but she’ll never escape me.

Not now. Not ever .