"Which is why I will handle it. My way."
The old pattern reasserting itself.
I took the letter back, holding it between us.
"No," I said quietly. "This time, we both decide." I met his gaze steadily. "Choose, Luca. Me or your empire."
CHAPTER 15
Luca
Three hours had passed since Sienna's ultimatum. Three hours of pacing my office, staring at Ricci's letter, weighing impossible choices.
Choose, Luca. Me or your empire.
Twenty-one hours remained on Ricci's deadline. Twenty-one hours to decide whether to surrender my wife and unborn child, or watch everything I'd built burn to the ground.
The brandy in my glass had gone warm, untouched. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawled below—my territory, bought with blood and sacrifice. Every building, every street corner, every business represented years of strategic maneuvering.
My father's voice echoed from memory:"Power is the only thing that matters, Luca. Everything else—love, loyalty, sentiment—those are luxuries that get men killed."
He'd built an empire on that philosophy. And he'd died alone, betrayed by the lieutenant he'd trusted most, surrounded by soldiers who felt nothing when he fell.
I was twenty-three when it happened—locked in a cell when I should have been at his side. By the time I got out two years later, that same lieutenant had carved up my father's territory, sold off our assets, turned our soldiers into mercenaries for the highest bidder. The Romano name had become a punchline. A cautionary tale about empires built on fear rather than loyalty.
I'd spent three years taking it all back. Not with my father's methods—not with pure brutality and intimidation—but with strategy. I'd offered better terms than the lieutenant. Reminded old allies of debts owed. Made examples of those who'd profited from my father's death, but showed mercy to those who'd simply survived.
The empire I rebuilt wasn't my father's. It was mine. Stronger because it was built on calculated respect, not terror. More stable because people served me by choice, not compulsion.
Or so I'd believed.
Now, staring at Ricci's ultimatum, I wondered if I'd been fooling myself. If power was still just power, regardless of how you acquired it. If the only real difference between my father and me was that I'd convinced myself sentiment made me stronger, when really it had just given my enemies a target.
I'd sworn I'd be different. Smarter. Colder.
Then Sienna Moretti had walked into my life—fierce, stubborn, infuriating—and dismantled every wall I'd built.
I pulled out my phone, opening a photo from last week: Sienna laughing at something Marco had said during dinner, her hand unconsciously resting on her stomach, eyes bright with that fierce spirit I'd fallen for. Nine weeks pregnant with my child.
Our child.
The empire my father built had consumed him. It had cost him his wife, his humanity, and ultimately his life. Was I really going to repeat his mistakes?
My hand moved unconsciously to my jacket pocket, feeling the small box with the ring inside.
The decision crystallized with sudden, absolute clarity.
Fuck the empire.
I picked up my phone and called Marco.
"Assemble everyone," I said. "War room. Twenty minutes. And Marco? Bring Francesco."
"Boss, are you sure—"
"I'm sure. It's time to set the trap."
Eighteen minutes later, my most trusted men filled the war room—Marco, Angelo, and six others who'd proven their loyalty through blood. Francesco stood near the back, carefully neutral, not yet aware he was the bait.
