“And my father?” she asked.
“He lives,” Luca said. “If that’s what you want. But if he’s part of it, I’ll be making that decision.”
Her breath caught. “You think he could be a part of all of this?”
“I think everyone’s a suspect until we can rule them out.” The truth of that hit hard, too hard. Her father and her family might all be trying to kill her. Nothing felt certain anymore. Except—him. And that was the most dangerous part of all.
She stepped back from him, giving herself some much-needed space. Even if it didn’t feel like enough. “This isn’t over,” she said.
“No,” he agreed.
Her chin lifted. “I’m not just going to sit here and let you handle everything,” she reminded.
“I know,” he agreed.
Her brows pulled together again. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true,” he said. “You’re not weak, Isabella. But right now, you're exposed,” he added. Her breath caught. There it was—the truth of the matter. She was in danger, and that was her new reality. “And until that changes,” he said quietly, “you stay with me.”
Her pulse pounded hard and fast in her chest. And this time—she didn’t argue, because she understood now. Staying with him wasn’t giving in or giving up her control; it was surviving. Even if it meant standing next to the most dangerous man in the city, and slowly realizing that he might be the only one she could trust.
Luca
Serge Romano’s name didn’t surprise him. It only confirmed something he’d already been circling, and that made things worse. Luca stood in his office long after Isabella left, the city bleeding light through the glass behind him while his mind worked through the angles.
Serge was a part of the Romano family, but his ambition had led him to betray Isabella and possibly her father. The real question was—was old man Romano in on the attempted kidnapping of his own daughter?
He rolled his injured shoulder again, slower this time. The pain had settled into something dull and steady—annoying, but manageable. His shoulder was irrelevant, though. What mattered now was if Serge had moved against his own blood; then this wasn’t just about power—it was also about timing. And timing meant there was something bigger coming.
A knock sounded at his office door, and he didn’t bother to turn around. “Enter,” he ordered.
Dante stepped in, already keyed up. “We pulled comms from the warehouse. It’s on partial chatter, but it lines up.”
“Okay, let’s have it,” Luca growled, his patience running thin.
“Serge has been talking to the Russians for weeks,” Dante said. “Maybe longer.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “Do we know his terms yet?”
“Still digging into that. But it looks like he was offering something in exchange for the guns that he wants from the Russians.”
Luca didn’t respond right away, mostly because he already knew exactly what, or in this case, who Serge was offering the Russians.
“Isabella,” he said without question.
Dante nodded. “Yeah.”
Of course, the Russians wanted Isabella. She was a Romano daughter and would soon be a Camorra bride. They would see her as a political asset wrapped in flesh and blood. She’d be used as leverage, and he couldn’t let that happen.
Luca exhaled slowly through his nose. “They weren’t trying to kill her back at my club,” he said.
“No,” Dante agreed. “They were trying to take her.” That tracked—it was clean, efficient, and predictable. Luca moved toward his desk, grabbing a file and flipping it open—not because he needed it, but because he needed to keep busy.
“What about Romano senior?” he asked.
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dante said. “But just barely. Doc says he’ll be okay, but it’s going to take some time. You want me to bring him here?” Dante asked.
Luca looked over at Dante. “No,” he said. The last thing he needed was Isabella’s father under the same roof as her. If he was involved in her attempted kidnapping, bringing him to his home wouldn’t be a good idea.
