Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“No,” my father replied just as evenly, “but it will force them to reconsider how far they’re willing to take it.”
“And if they don’t?” Viktor asked, his tone edged but quieter now, like even he understood where this was going.
“Then we’ll already be in a position to respond before they make their next move,” my father said. “Closer than we’ve ever been.”
I let out a slow breath. I was weighing the decision because I was stepping into it already understanding what this would require and what it would cost. Because there was no version of this where it stayed simple, and there sure as hell wasn’t one where it stayed clean.
“Then we do it,” I said.
There was no hesitation in it, no room left for argument. Dragging this out didn’t change what needed to be done.
My father gave a single nod, like that was the only response he’d expected from me, and just like that, it was decided.
The Rossi family had made their move when they targeted our operation, when they tried to take control of something that wasn’t theirs to touch, and this—this was ours.
Not retaliation. Not yet. But something far more dangerous.
Because if they thought tying our families together would give them an advantage, if they thought this would give them a way to get closer without consequence, then they didn’t understand who they were dealing with.
And by the time they did…
It would already be too late.
Chapter Three
Lucia
The house always looked peaceful from the outside, a beautiful facade of what it actually was inside.
The gardens were trimmed to perfection, stretching out in manicured lines beyond the house, the stone walkways swept clean, and the tall arched windows left open just enough to let in the late afternoon air. The marble exterior and ironwork details were polished to a quiet shine that spoke of wealth without ever needing to announce it.
It created an image people trusted, the kind that suggested stability and control, but that illusion had never fooled me. I’d grown up inside these walls, and I understood better than anyone that quiet didn’t mean safe.
It meant that whatever needed to stay hidden was being handled somewhere else, far enough away that it didn’t disrupt what people were meant to see.
I stood in the kitchen with my hand resting against the marble counter watching Rosa move around the space as she prepared dinner. Her movements were steady and practiced in a way that had always been comforting.
She had been part of this house longer than I could remember, long enough that she felt like a constant in a world that rarely stayed still. And she carried herself with a calm that never seemed forced, even when everything else around us shifted.
And I loved her like a mother.
The scent of garlic and herbs filled the air, warm and familiar, but it didn’t settle the uneasy feeling that had followed me since I had woken up that morning.
“You’re not listening to me,” Rosa said, glancing over her shoulder as she stirred the sauce on the stove, her tone gentle but inquisitive.
I blinked, realizing I hadn’t responded to whatever she had been saying. I pushed myself off the counter as I tried to gather my thoughts back into something resembling attention. “I am,” I said, though the words came out automatically, more habit than truth.
She turned fully then, her gaze settling on me in a way that made it clear she wasn’t convinced. I didn’t try to argue the point. There wasn’t any reason to. She knew me too well for that.
“You’ve been somewhere else all afternoon,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth before setting it aside. “That’s not like you.”
I let out a soft breath and moved toward the table, more to give myself something to do than because I was hungry, and pulled out a chair before sitting down. “I didn’t sleep well,” I said, keeping my tone even because it wasn’t entirely a lie. Sleep had been shallow, broken by a restless awareness I couldn’t quite explain, like something had shifted just out of sight of my well-constructed, strictly controlled world.
Rosa studied me for a moment before nodding slightly, as if she was choosing not to push further, and returned her attention to the stove. “Your father asked for you this morning,” she said after a moment, her voice casual in a way that didn’t quite match the weight of the words.
That made me pause, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table before I forced them to relax. “When?” I asked.
“Early,” she replied. “You were still asleep.”
“Did he say why?” I kept my voice steady.
Rosa shook her head. “No, but he wasn’t in a good mood.”
My father rarely was.
I picked up my fork and forced myself to take a few bites of the food she set in front of me, even though I suddenly had no appetite. My attention drifted toward the open window across the room.