"You need to keep your distance," he says finally, his voice low and serious. "From Giulia."
I force myself not to flinch back. "I don't know what you're?—"
"Don't." He cuts me off, his eyes hard. "I've known you for ten years, Luca. I know when something's eating at you. And I think I know what that something is."
I want to deny it and tell him he's wrong, that I'm just doing my job, that there's nothing between Giulia and me because there can't be anything between Giulia and me.
But the lie won't come. He’s my best friend, and he’s also the don’s son. Another dichotomy I can’t always rationalize.
"It doesn't matter," I say instead. "Nothing's going to happen."
"It matters if it affects your judgment or makes you do something stupid." He steps closer, his jaw tight but his expression somewhat sympathetic… I think. As close to sympathy as Romeo can ever get. "I get it. She's beautiful, she's smart, and she's trapped in a situation she didn't choose. But she's also Dante's daughter. And you're?—"
"I know what I am." The words come out harsher than I intended. "I know exactly what I am and what I'm not. You don't need to remind me."
"Then act like it." His voice is firm now. "Keep your distance. Do your job. And for fuck's sake, stop looking at her like you want to burn the world down for her."
I want to argue that I'm not looking at her any particular way, that he's seeing things that aren't there. But I can't. Because he's right.
"I'll keep my distance," I say finally, on an exhale. "I promise."
Romeo studies me for a long moment, like he's trying to decide whether to believe me. Then he nods and walks away.
The problem, of course, is that I can’t stay away from her completely. I go to some of these parties and galas as part of the security, and I’m often at the table for big family dinners and gatherings. And every night that Giulia is there and so isAlessandro, I find it harder and harder to keep the violence under control.
I've always had a temper—it's part of what makes me good at my job. That willingness to do what needs to be done, to cross lines that other men wouldn't cross. But lately, it feels like there's something dark and hungry living just beneath my skin, waiting for an excuse to break free.
There’s a business dinner at the house three days later. The Ciresa family is hosting representatives from several allied families, and I'm working security with a handful of other soldiers. It's supposed to be a peaceful evening with good food, good wine, men getting together to talk about money. I go outside for a smoke, feeling that jittery sensation that won’t quite go away these days, when I see one of Alessandro’s men talking with one of ours. I’m not even sure why he’s here—Dante looked surprised to see him. But he didn’t say anything, probably not wanting to insult the man he’s counting on to marry his daughter.
They’re both smoking, one of them leaning against the wall of the building, close enough for me to hear them talking.
“Bet Alessandro can’t wait for the wedding night,” one of them says, laughing. I realize, with a flush of cold anger, that they’re talking about Giulia. "Bet she's a virgin. Bet Alessandro's going to have fun breaking her in."
The other one laughs, and the sound makes my vision go red.
“I wish he was the sharing kind,” his soldier says with a chuckle. “Think he’d pass her around if we asked real nice?”
The other one snorts, bending over as if it’s the funniest fucking thing he’s ever heard, and I lunge toward them before I consciously decide to move. One moment I'm standing by the door, and the next I'm grabbing Alessandro’s man by the back of his neck and slamming his face into the wall.
The sound of his nose breaking is so satisfying I swear I feel my dick get hard.
He screams, blood pouring down his face, and I hit him again. And again. My fist connects with his jaw, his ribs, his stomach. I'm dimly aware of people coming outside, shouting, of hands trying to pull me back, but I can't stop.
Iwon’t.
Not until he understands that he doesn't get to talk about her like that, reduce her to something crude and disposable. He doesn't get to exist in the same world as her and think those thoughts.
It takes three men to pull me off him, and by the time they do, the man is unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
"What the fuck, Luca?" one of the soldiers hisses. "You just put him in the hospital."
I'm breathing hard, my knuckles split and bleeding, and I don't care. I don't care about the political implications or any of it. All I care about is that he'll never talk about Giulia like that again.
I’m escorted to a side hallway, and Dante calls me to his office after the dinner party is broken up. I don’t need to be told that I crossed a line, that my behavior is becoming a problem, and that there will be consequences. But I still can't bring myself to regret it.
The don is sitting behind his desk when I enter, and his expression is cold. The kind of expression that means someone is about to have a very bad day. Me, most likely.
"Sit down, Luca."
