Page 20 of The Enforcer's Possession
“But here’s what you don’t understand, Caterina.”I set the photo down, carefully aligned with the others.“There is no better option.There is no escape.You’re a Lombardi daughter, which makes you property.A commodity.And I claimed you first.”
My hand moved to the knife I kept in my desk drawer.Not to use -- not yet, anyway -- just to hold.To feel the weight of it, the potential violence contained in cold steel.
“So you wish to marry the De Luca enforcer.Fine.Enjoy your temporary victory.Enjoy whatever illusion of safety his name provides.”I tested the blade edge against my thumb, just hard enough to feel the pressure.“Because I’m patient.I can wait.And when the opportunity comes -- and it will come -- I’ll make sure you understand exactly what you threw away.”
I returned the knife to its drawer and stood, moving back to the photos.Began arranging them in chronological order, creating a timeline of Caterina’s recent movements.Adding notes about patterns, regular locations, security weaknesses.
Giuseppe might be reconsidering the Vitale alliance.Might even decide the De Luca offer was superior.That was business.I understood business.
But this had become war the moment Caterina chose someone else.The moment she rejected me in front of her family, in favor of a man whose reputation was built on brutality rather than refinement.
She wanted brutal?She’d learn what brutal really meant.
I worked through the night, compiling information, making plans, identifying every possible angle of attack.Not rushed.Not sloppy.Careful, the way I’d been taught to eliminate obstacles.
By dawn, I had a strategy.Multiple paths forward, each one designed to cause maximum damage while minimizing my exposure.Some immediate, some long-term.All of them ending with Caterina Lombardi regretting the day she’d ever heard Dante De Luca’s name.
I gathered the photos, the notes, the preliminary plans, and locked them in my safe.Evidence secured.Strategy documented.Nothing left to chance.
Then I poured myself a fresh scotch, a replacement for the drink I’d thrown, and raised it in a solitary toast to my reflection in the window.
“To Caterina Lombardi,” I said softly.“May your marriage be everything you deserve.”
I drained the glass and smiled.Not the practiced, charming smile I used in public.This was something else entirely.Something that would have made even Dante De Luca pause if he’d seen it.
Because this was the smile of a man who’d just made a blood oath.A promise sealed in rage and calculation and the absolute certainty that eventually, everyone paid their debts.
No one rejected Marco Vitale and lived to enjoy it.
No one.
Chapter Six
Caterina
The bridal suite smelled like money and desperation -- white roses from some obscenely expensive florist, champagne I hadn’t touched, and the faint chemical tang of whatever they’d used to rush-clean the room.I stood in the center of it all in nothing but La Perla lingerie, watching three women I’d never met fuss over a dress that had been altered in forty-eight hours because apparently when you made a deal with the devil, he didn’t believe in long engagements.
Two security guards flanked the door.Not inside with me, but I still knew they were there.De Luca men, not Lombardi.That had been part of the arrangement -- Dante’s people handled security for the wedding.A show of power, or maybe just him making sure I didn’t bolt at the last minute.
Smart man.
Three weeks.That’s all the time that had passed since I’d sat across from Dante De Luca in The Velvet Room and made a deal I’d thought was brilliant.Now, staring at the wedding dress hanging from a hook on the armoire, I wasn’t so sure about the brilliant part.
“Stop fidgeting.”Mama appeared at my shoulder, her reflection joining mine in the vanity mirror.She looked perfect, as always.Champagne-colored Valentino, hair swept up in an elegant twist, pearls at her throat.The picture of maternal grace.“You’ll ruin your makeup.”
I forced my hands flat on the vanity surface, watching my fingers tremble slightly before I curled them into fists.“I’m fine.”
“You’re terrified.”
“I’m not --”
“Caterina.”She placed a hand on my shoulder, firm but not unkind.“I’ve known you for twenty-one years.You can lie to your father, to Dante, to everyone else.But don’t lie to yourself.”
I met her gaze in the mirror.Saw something there I hadn’t expected -- understanding.Not approval but understanding.Like she recognized something of herself in this moment.
“It’s too late to back out now,” I said.Not a question.A statement of fact.
“It was too late the moment you made the arrangement.”She moved to the dress, running her fingers over the silk with a kind of reverence.“But for what it’s worth, I think you chose the stronger option.”
