She needs to understand, to accept that this marriage is never going to be what she wants it to be.
"I've already made enough mistakes where you're concerned," I say, my voice flat and emotionless now. "I'm not going to compound them by pretending this is something it's not. We're married because we have to be. We're going to raise this child together because we have to. But that's all this is. Obligation. Duty. Nothing more."
"Luca—" Her voice breaks completely.
"I don't love you," I say firmly, and I can taste the poison in the lie. "I don't forgive you. And I never will. The sooner you accept that, the easier this is going to be for both of us."
I put the car back in drive and pull onto the road. We don't speak again for the rest of the drive home. When we arrive at the brownstone, Giulia gets out of the car without a word. She walks to the front door with her shoulders hunched, her movements mechanical, like she's operating on autopilot.
I watch her disappear inside, and I sit in the car for a long moment, my hands still gripping the steering wheel, my chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to regret.
I did what I had to do. I established boundaries and made sure she understands where we stand.
So why does it feel like I just destroyed something I can't get back?
I don't go inside. I can't face the house, or her, or the echo of my own cruelty. Instead, I drive to the office and throw myself back into work.
Romeo finds me two hours later, reviewing security footage from one of our clubs. "Thought you were taking the afternoon off for the doctor's appointment," he says, dropping into the chair across from my desk.
"Appointment's done."
"And?"
"Everything's fine. Baby's healthy. Heartbeat's strong." I say it all in a detached tone, like I’m reciting something off a chart. Romeo studies me with that look he gets when he knows I'm full of shit but isn't sure whether to call me on it.
"How's Giulia?"
"Fine."
"Luca—"
"She's fine, Romeo. Everything's fine. Can we focus on work now?"
He sighs but doesn't push. Instead, he pulls out his phone and swipes through something before turning it to show me. "We've got a problem."
The photo on the screen shows Alessandro Marchesi sitting at an outdoor café in Little Italy. He's alone, drinking espresso, and reading a newspaper like he doesn't have a care in the world.
"When was this taken?"
"This morning. And this one—" He swipes to another photo. Alessandro at a restaurant we own in Brooklyn. "—was yesterday. And this one—" Another swipe. Alessandro walking past one of our clubs in the city. "—was three days ago."
"He's making himself visible."
"Very visible. Not threatening, not making moves, just... there. Like he wants us to know he's watching."
I lean back in my chair, my mind already working through the implications. "He's testing us. Seeing how we'll react."
"I want to put him down." Romeo's voice is flat, matter-of-fact. "He's still working to further the Marchesi plans. We know it. Dante knows it. Keeping him alive is a liability. He failed to get in through Giulia, and we failed to take them out at the wedding that didn’t happen, so now they’re trying to find another in."
"What does Dante say?"
"That we wait. He thinks we can’t risk it until things are more stable." Romeo's jaw tightens. "But I don't like it. Every day he's out there is another day he's gathering intelligence, making connections, planning whatever the fuck the Marchesi family is planning. And in the meantime, he gets to walk around our territory like he owns it."
“Dante’s right. I don’t like to say it, but he is.” I rub my fingers over my temple. “There’s too much going on right now. If we try to move and we fail, it will only make the cracks in the organization worse. But when Dante gives the order, we’lleliminate everyone involved. Not just Alessandro. The whole fucking operation."
Romeo nods slowly. "You sound like you're looking forward to it."
"I am." I sit back, my jaw working. "I want to hurt someone, Romeo. And Alessandro seems like a good place to start."
