Page 23 of Alessio DeLuca

But today, for the first time in longer than I can remember, it falters. Feels wrong, ill-fitting. Because when I’m with Maty, I’m not just the DeLuca capo.

For so long I’ve rejected all vulnerability, the idea of letting anyone see beneath my hardened surface. Attachments are liabilities, a luxury men like me can’t afford.

But Maty makes me want to tear down my walls and let her see every scarred, imperfect part of me. She makes me hope, dream, long for things I never thought I could have. Shit like… love. Fuck! The word slams into me like a freight train, leaving me momentarily breathless. Is this love, this clawing need, this bone-deep certainty that I would burn entire cities to the ground to keep her safe, to make her mine?

I’ve never been in love before. Never allowed myself the weakness, the distraction. But now, as images of Maty dance behind my eyes - her laughter, her fire, the way she gives herself to me so completely - I wonder if I’ve been in love with her for years without even realizing it.

She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The only good thing in my fucked up world.

I’m dragged out of my thoughts by Luca, my consigliere, clearing his throat to bring me back to the conversation. “Boss?”

I blink, focusing on the papers in front of me. It’s a fair split. It gives us control of the key ports without completely cutting our partners out.

“It’s good,” I say decisively, scrawling my signature at the bottom. “Make it happen.”

Luca nods, gathering up the papers efficiently. “I’ll have the contracts drawn and ready for signing.”

“Good.” I stand abruptly, eager to wrap things up. “If there’s nothing else, gentlemen, I’m sure we all have shit to do.”

There’s a murmur of acknowledgment as the other men rise, shaking hands and continuing to chat. I barely pay attention, my mind already thinking about seeing Maty, touching her.

I’m striding out of the conference room, when my phone rings. I glance at the display, expecting it to be Maty.

But instead, a hidden number flashes on the screen. Frowning, I accept the call.

I grit out, “DeLuca.”

“Ah, the man himself.” The voice on the other end is coldly amused, with a tone that immediately sets my senses on edge. “I was wondering if you’d pick up.”

“Who the fuck is this?” I demand, signaling to Luca. He immediately moves closer, his expression sharpening.

“Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself.” I can practically hear the smirk curling his lips. “The name’s Ghost. You might remember me, but you can just call me the guy who just snatched up your precious little plaything.”

Ice floods my veins, a red mist descending over my vision. “What did you say?” My voice comes out as a barely human snarl.

“You heard me, DeLuca.” He sounds bored now. “I got Maty. And if you ever want to see her alive again…”

He pauses, letting the threat hang. I can barely breathe through the rage and fear clawing at my insides.

“What?” I bark out. “What you want, motherfucker?”

He laughs softly, the sound making my skin crawl. “Oh, so many things. But let’s start with the simplest, shall we?” His voice hardens, turning ugly. “I want you and your entire fucking family to suffer for destroying my life and killing my friends. And I want Maty to finally face the music for betraying me.”

A low growl builds in my chest, my free hand clenching into a fist. “Listen carefully, you sick fuck,” I say, my voice deadly soft. “If you hurt her, if you so much as touch a hair on her head, I will end you. Slowly. Painfully. I will peel the skin from your flesh inch by fucking inch until you fucking beg me for mercy. And then, I won’t fucking stop until I’ve destroyed everything and everyone you’ve ever loved.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he tsks. “Come on, DeLuca. Is that any way to talk to the man holding all the cards?” His voice drips with false sympathy. “I’d be very careful how you proceed, bossman. Maty’s life depends on it.”

I bare my teeth in a silent snarl, every cell in my body screaming to reach through the phone and choke him until his eyeballs pop out. But I can’t. Because he’s right.

He has my heart. My whole fucking world. And I can’t risk losing her, no matter how badly I want to bathe in this bastard’s blood.

“What do you want, asshole?” I ask, the words ash on my tongue.

I can hear his smirk in the greasy satisfaction of his voice.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Eleven

---