"People like your father don't change, Ilona. They adapt. They find new angles." He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, the firelight turning his eyes to molten amber. "Believe half of what you see and nothing of what you hear. In this case, read."
My jaw tightens. The rebel in me, the one with a lifetime of defiance buried under obedience, wants to argue. Wants to tell him that he doesn't get to decide who I trust or what I believe, that controlling who I communicate with makes him no different from the man who raised me. But the mother in me, the one whose hand drifts to her belly every time danger whispers through the room, hears the truth beneath his frustration.
"I hear you. I'm not going to run off and meet him in a dark alley." I cross the room and lower myself onto his lap, my legs draped over the arm of the chair, my head settling against his shoulder. His arm wraps around me automatically, pulling me close, his chin resting against my temple. The sandalwood and smoke scent of him fills my lungs, grounding me when everything else feels like shifting sand. "I'm not careless or stupid."
"I never said you were." His voice softens, his lips brushing my hair. "I said your father is dangerous. There's a difference."
We sit in silence for a moment.
"Promise me you won't go anywhere without me or the guards. Not for this." His hand spreads across my belly, warm and protective. "Please."
I cover his hand with mine. "This baby needs me to protect them. I won't do anything that puts either of us in danger." The fire crackles and an ember pops, sending a spark skittering across the hearth. "I just hope, you know? I meant what I said at the gala, Luca. I want a family. A real one. What if this letter is him trying to give us that?"
"Your father is many things, jungle flower. A man who reflects on his failures isn't one of them." He presses a kiss to my temple, letting his lips linger against my skin. "Be careful with your hope. It's the most dangerous weapon he can use against you."
I nestle deeper into his arms, the ultrasound photo pressed between us, our daughter's heartbeat still echoing in my memory.
He's right. I know he's right.
But the little girl who spent twenty-two years waiting for her father to love her still lives inside my chest, and she's reaching for that letter with both hands.
I close my eyes against the firelight and let Luca hold me while the war between hope and wisdom rages beneath my ribs.
Twelve
Luca
The informant's latest report sits open on my desk, three pages of intel that confirm what my gut has been telling me for weeks. Enzo Marchetti isn't retreating as I’d hoped. The fucker is regrouping.
The pages are warm from the printer beneath my fingertips, the ink still carrying that faintly chemical edge that clings to fresh intelligence reports.
I scan the details one more time as the elevator hums outside my office, delivering my brothers to a meeting that should have happened days ago. The Morellis signed a preliminary agreement with Enzo last Thursday. The Vidalis are still on the fence but leaning his direction. And two of the Russian families Kon has been cultivating for years are suddenly returning calls they've been ignoring for months. Not Kon's calls. Enzo's.
This shit show is about to go very sideways, very fast.
The coffee on my sidebar has gone lukewarm, but I pour a fresh cup anyway, the ceramic scraping against the marble as I set it down. The October morning pushes pale light through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the Chicago skyline into a tableau of steel and ambition that usually settles my nerves. This month feels like it’s dragging ass, but I don’t see how next month will make any of this any better.
I rub at the tension coiling at the base of my skull. The sandalwood candles I keep on the corner of my desk have burned down to pale nubs, and the faint trace of their scent mingles with leather and the bitter edge of coffee in a combination that normally grounds me. This morning it just reminds me that everything familiar can turn hostile without warning.
Would it be a bad idea to say fuck it and walk out? Some random island in the tropics sounds like an epic mid-life change right now.
My door opening pulls me out of the fantasy.
Drake enters first, silent as always, claiming the chair nearest my desk with the easy authority of a man who has earned his proximity to power. He crosses one ankle over the opposite knee and folds his hands in his lap, his gray eyes already cataloging the documents spread across my desk before his body has settled.
“Looks like we’re gonna need something stronger than coffee for this.”
I nod.
Rafael follows, his presence reshaping the room's gravity the way it always does, making the walls feel closer, the air heavier. He stands rather than sits, positioning himself near the window where the morning light cuts a sharp line across his jaw and throws the silver at his temples into stark relief.
Kon fills the doorway behind them, a mountain draped in black wool and patience, his dark eyes sweeping the room once before he moves to the couch and lowers himself with a control that makes the furniture creak despite his careful placement.
Massimo and Rowan bring up the rear, Massimo still working the knot of his tie like a man who dressed in a moving vehicle while Rowan drops into the remaining leather chair and stretches his legs out, ankles crossed, the picture of casual alertness.
"Enzo's accelerating." I skip the pleasantries and point to the spread of intel across my desk. Photographs, transcripts and financial records spread across my desk. None of it is good news. "The Morellis are in. The Vidalis are close. And he's making promises to the Petrov family that cut directly into Kon's territory. This motherfucker has balls the size of King Kong’s."
Kon's thick fingers curl around the arm of the couch and squeeze until the leather groans beneath his grip, a slow, deliberate compression of fury that transforms the furniture into a pressure valve for the violence building behind his impassive features. I watch as our brothers closest to him shift in their seats without realizing they've moved.