Page 49 of Dark Mafia Heir

“Exactly that.”

I nod, and nibble a juicy chicken part.

The conversation between Luca and me goes back and forth in a friendly tone. He turns out to be more engaging than I thought he would be.

We beat five minutes and end up laughing like old buddies. The summary? He likes his job, and is thorough with even the most minute responsibility Antonio gives him. I don’t ask any further questions to know he’s one of the loyal ones. One that would possibly kill or die for myhusband,if the situation was of life and death.

I know all these and yet, ask anyway, because I feel warm enough towards him, and I think it will killmeif I don’t.

“Luca, this is abrupt, but can I make a request?”

Luca tilts his head, watching me warily. “Will Antonio approve of this request?”

Fuck Antonio.

“I don’t know, but if it’s not important, I won’t risk my neck by asking. Can I please use your phone to call my sister?”

The warmth that flowed easily between us changes so fast, I think I imagined it. An icy cold replaces it when he pushes himself off the chair and starts for the door.

“Luca. . .” I’m literally grasping at straws to bring him back. “Luca, please.”

His broad shoulders are almost past the door when he turns back with a frown that is deep enough to put a dent in his features.

“I asked if Antonio was going to approve, but you already knew the answer, didn’t you?”

Heavy boots thud on the polished floor when he marches out of the dining room, and that marks the end of our conversation.

18

Antonio

“How many dead?”

“Ten.”

“How many injured?”

“Twenty-five.”

My fingers curl into the edge of the desk, the sharp edges of anger slicing through me, and my teeth clench hard enough to start a fucking headache. “Damn it! And are they being tended to? At the hospital?Fuck!”

Giovanni barks off in Italian at the other end of the line to someone, and I hear him walk away from the background noise. “Twelve now confirmed, Nio. Twelve dead. And yes, those injured have been rushed to the hospital. Nio, we can’t fold our arms and do nothing about this. This was a direct target. Whoever the fucker is knew we were offloading shipments today. They fucking knew we’d have more people inside that warehouse.”

There is no doubt about that. The warehouse by the docks was one of our biggest. Built and structured to be untouchable.My mind is already running through possibilities, calculating the losses, and, most importantly, who had the balls to pull this off.

It is bad enough that we have twenty-five men injured, but twelve men dead is a punch to the gut.

I’m slipping on control, trying not to lose the last shred holding me together. “How?”

“I don’t know.” I feel the frustration and anger radiating off him, and know that the rest of the men would be out for blood. “One of the workers here said, everything happened so fast. People in masks came in fast, armed to the teeth. Looked professional. We’re still piecing it together. But someone has to pay, Nio. They have to fucking pay.”

I stand, and the chair scrapes against the floor. My blood burns under my skin, but I subdue the urge to crash something against the wall. Allowing anger to rule my thoughts is a weakness, one I can’t afford right now.

“Call everyone back to the house,” I say. “I want eyes on every detail—surveillance, witnesses, anything. If someone so much as sneezed near that warehouse, I want to know. Tell Lorenzo to meet me here in ten minutes.”

“Yes, boss,” Giovanni says, and the line goes dead.

My best guess on who’s responsible is the Camorra. Salvatore fucking Russo. But I can’t act on an assumption even if everything inside screams that I am right.

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