Page 12 of Forbidden Vengeance

“Too close. Elena,please. Dad’s about to fucking tear this place apart, and Bella won’t stop crying about it being too early.”

“I’m on my way. Try to keep your father from terrorizing the hospital staff,” I say hurriedly, already planning my route to the hospital.

“Hurry.”

I end the call and meet Mario’s intense gaze, knowing he heard the entire conversation. “Bella’s in labor. The twins are coming early.”

He releases me immediately, stepping back with fluid grace. We move in perfect synchronization as I head to my bedroom, years of event planning making me efficient even in crisis. I’m already dialing the hospital’s chief of staff—a man who owes me several favors—while letting the red Versace pool at my feet.

“Enjoying the show?” I ask as Mario follows me into the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe like he owns the space.

“Just making sure you don’t waste time reapplying that lipstick Anthony smeared off.”

My pulse jumps at his tone. I step into a simple black Stella McCartney dress, deliberately ignoring how his eyes track every movement as I quickly fix my hair into a sleek ponytail.

He doesn’t offer to leave, and I don’t ask him to. Instead, he shadows me to my car. His hand reaches the door handle just as mine does, and electricity crackles between us as our eyes meet.

“You can’t come with me,” I say, hating how breathless I sound.

His dark eyes study me for a moment, something dangerous flickering in their depths. “No,” he agrees, voice low and intimate. “But I’ll be watching. I always am.”

He walks away, leaving me unsettled and off-balance—exactly as he intended.

The city blurs past my windows as I drive like a woman possessed. Guilt churns in my stomach, mixing with the remnants of whatever just happened with Mario. Bella trusts me, loves me like a sister, and here I am sleeping with her family’s enemy—the nephew of the man who killed her mother and father—while feeding information to her husband’s exiled brother.

The same brother who once held her stepdaughter at gunpoint.

But it’s more complicated than that. The intelligence I gathered from Anthony last night, combined with what I overheard from Siobhan O’Connor…Something bigger is happening. Something that could destroy everything Bella and Matteo have built.

I take the corner onto Fifth Avenue too fast, my thoughts racing faster than my car. The Vietnamese shipping connections, the Irish modernization efforts, the way Siobhan watches everything from the shadows while her father clings to outdated methods.

And Mario, always Mario, pulling strings I’m only beginning to understand.

The hospital rises before me, its imposing facade a stark reminder of what’s at stake. The twins weren’t supposed to come for another two and a half months. If anything happens to them, to Bella…

The hospital corridor feels endless as I rush toward the maternity ward, my Manolo Blahniks clicking against steriletiles. Antonio materializes from the shadows, his presence a reminder that even here, the DeLuca empire never sleeps.

He buzzes me through security, and I find the waiting room full of tense DeLucas. Matteo paces like a caged predator, his usual control fractured around the edges.

His tie is loosened, dark hair disheveled from running his hands through it. He looks exactly like what he is—one of New York’s most dangerous men, stripped of his power by something he can’t control.

“Dad, please,” Bianca pleads, her face tight with worry. “The doctors said?—”

“Which room?” I cut in.

“307,” Bianca says, relief evident in her voice. “Thank God you’re here.”

Matteo’s eyes lock onto mine, studying me with an intensity that makes me wonder if he somehow knows about Mario’s visit. But there’s no time to analyze his suspicions.

I find Bella’s room easily, but nothing prepares me for the sight of my best friend in pain. Her face is flushed, those artist’s eyes bright with tears and trust I don’t deserve.

“Elena,” she sobs, reaching for my hand. “It’s too early. The twins—they can’t come yet.”

“Hey, hey.” I squeeze her hand, pushing down my guilt. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ve got the best doctors in New York.”

“I kicked Matteo out,” she confesses between pants. “He was driving me crazy with his hovering.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Only you would dare kick the great Matteo DeLuca out of anywhere.”

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