Page 4 of Lucky

The woman steps into the dim light, her heels clicking against the cold concrete with quiet precision. I can’t make out her features yet, but the sheer confidence in her posture tells me this is no ordinary woman. She moves like a feline, like she knows exactly how to own the room without saying a word.

I brace myself, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. I was expecting the head of the Vicci family, not his secretary.

She stops a few paces away from me, her heels now quiet. She’s flanked by two muscle-heads with thick arms meant to intimidate. My muscles may not be thick like tires, but whatI lack in that department, I more than make up in speed and agility.

The woman’s silhouette sharpens as the light flickers. And for the first time, I realize something—something I hadn’t expected: she’s the one in control of this room. She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

She’s not Jack Vicci. But whoever she is, I can already feel the power she carries. And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to find out just how dangerous she really is.

“I was expecting Jack Vicci,” I say into the room. For the first time, I second guess the wisdom of coming without more manpower. With no shortage of volunteers to accompany me to this meeting, I had foolishly decided to bring only Jayson. Not that he wouldn’t tear the world apart with his own bare teeth to protect me, but I somehow feel outnumbered.

The woman steps forward until she’s under the flickering bulb and her features come into sharp focus. She’s tall—taller than most women—and wears dark jeans with a simple black dress shirt tucked in and a leather belt that cinches her waist. She wears no jewelry save for a watch with a band so dark it could almost be mistaken for a bracelet. Her features are striking, dark eyes that are calculating, like they see right through you. High cheekbones, sharp enough to challenge any blade. Her black hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, but a few stray locks frame her face. Her heels are boots that hug her feet like a second skin; they’re so high, I have no idea how she didn’t fall and break her neck on the way in.

She tilts her head, regards me curiously, as though trying to dissect something her mind can’t comprehend, then straightens and nods at the men beside her, telling them to leave us.

One of the men starts to argue, but she fixes him with a glacial stare and it’s almost comical watching him scoff and shake his head at her look. They leave us and she turns back tome, her long ponytail bouncing against her head. Her eyes slide toward Jayson, who stares back at her, mesmerized. I nudge him until he gets moving and joins the Vicci soldiers outside and make a mental note to tease him later about the way he was drooling.

“You finally have an audience, Mr. Gatti.” Her voice reaches me, smooth, cool, mocking, giving away very little. It has a sharpness to it, a cutting no-nonsense edge. She's not apologizing for her presence. Not even a little bit. She steps forward into the sliver of light, and it’s enough to make my breath hitch.

“I was expecting Jack Vicci.” My mind is in overdrive as it tries to process the reality of the situation. My hand instinctively moves to the gun holstered at my side, fingers grazing the cool metal, but I keep my grip loose. I’m not about to make any mistakes here, even if she’s throwing me off guard.

“I think you’ll find I’m more than capable of handling whatever business you’ve come to discuss, Mr. Gatti,” she says, her voice velvet-soft but full of steel. “After all,” she continues, her lips curling into a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Iamthe one you’ve come to see, aren’t I?”

I blink, caught off guard by her words. She knows my name, my position, but that’s not the issue here. “You’reJack Vicci?”

Her eyes flicker down to the desk where I had been sitting, and her heels tap again as she steps closer. She’s aware of the tension in the room, of the uncertainty that’s slowly creeping in.

“I should be insulted, Luciano. Do you mind if I call you Luciano?” she asks with a slight tilt of her head, her tone still impossibly calm. She steps forward, until there’s barely two feet between us, her proximity sucking up the air between us.

“Lucky,” I snap. Only those closest to me will ever have the privilege of addressing me by my full name without getting their bones snapped.

“Lucky,” she hums, pausing on the feeling of my name on her tongue. “I know you’ve been asking around, looking for answers. But you’ve missed the most obvious one, haven’t you?” She lets the words hang in the air, heavy and accusatory.

I swallow, trying to steady myself, but my mind is reeling. I came here expecting to meet the new head of the Vicci family, the notorious Jack Vicci—the one who has been pulling strings from the shadows, playing everyone against each other. And instead, I’m face-to-face with a woman who looks every bit as dangerous, every bit as commanding as any man in the room.

“Who are you?” I finally ask, the question slipping from me before I can stop it. My voice feels tight, the air in the room thickening by the second.

“I’m the one who’s running the Vicci family now,” she replies, her gaze never leaving mine. The intensity in her eyes is palpable, like she’s daring me to question her. “My brother... Jack, well... he’s not quite in the position to be making decisions anymore. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the easier this conversation will be for the both of us.” She steps even closer, close enough now that I can feel the power in her presence—the quiet, suffocating kind of power that makes you feel like you're standing on the edge of a very long, very dangerous fall.

I can feel my pulse quicken. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to be here, face-to-face with the Vicci Don’s sister—the Donna herself. How can I even verify the story if I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone? No one had told me Jack was out of the picture. No one had mentioned the woman pulling the strings.

“Seattle is trying to send us a message,” she continues, her voice low, predatory. “But we haven’t broken any rules.”

I swallow, feeling the weight of her words settle over me.

For the first time, I’m not sure I’m in control of this situation. But damn it, I’m not going to walk away from this without getting what I need. Not from this woman. Not fromher.

“I think you’re forgetting who you're dealing with,” I say, trying to steady myself. I can’t fucking breathe. She’s sucking up all the energy in the room, all the air around us, with her sheer presence. “Starting a war with our family is not in your best interests.”

“Who said anything about starting a war? I’m merely trying to protect my own.”

“What have you done to your brother?”Please Lord, don’t make me have to deal with a power-hungry demon who’s put her brother down. A shiver ofdiscomfort shoots through me as memories of my own mother’s betrayal assail me. She ignores my question for the longest time as she stares at me, her gaze assessing.

“Jack’s…recovering,” she says, “after an accident,” but I don’t miss the tightness in her voice as she bites out the words.

“I didn’t come here for your bullshit,” I hiss. “You’ve stirred the hornet’s nest, and now Seattle is circling. I need to speak with Jack.”

Her smile widens slightly, but there’s no humor in it. She takes another step forward, until we’re standing almost head-to-head, and squares her shoulders. She’s so close now, I can smell her, and I fight the urge to inhale the seductive, addictive mix of orange blossom and patchouli. It’s a heady smell that screams power and control, which she embodies like a leader. Her eyes are half lidded as she lifts a finger and runs it down the side of my face slowly, from the edge of my eye all the way down my cheek, as if tracing the path of a stray tear.

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