Page 63 of Made for Saints

Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Nothing? Really? Because you’ve got that look on your face. The one that says you’re thinking about her.”

I scowled, taking a sip of my wine. “Drop it, Luca.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re in deep, brother. And you don’t even realize it.”

I didn’t respond, my gaze fixed on the glass in my hand. Because the truth was, he wasn’t wrong.

Not that I’d ever admit it.

“Relax,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to obsess over her, you might as well admit it.”

“I’m not obsessing,” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Right. And I’m the Pope.”

I took a long sip of wine, letting the silence stretch between us. Luca might have been my brother, but that didn’t mean I had to indulge his bullshit. Especially not when it came to Emilia.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting to something more serious. “We’ll table the love life discussion for now. Let’s talk business.”

“Finally,” I muttered, setting my glass down. “What’s the update on the missing money?”

Luca’s smirk faded, replaced by a more focused expression. “The accountant’s still digging through the records. Should have a full report by the end of the week.”

“And?”

“And it’s not looking good,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Whoever’s skimming off the top is good at covering their tracks. We’re talking small amounts, spread out over months—maybe years. It’s subtle enough that it wouldn’t raise any red flags unless you were looking for it.”

“Which we weren’t,” I said, my jaw tightening. “Until now.”

“Exactly,” Luca said, his tone grim. “The accountant thinks it’s someone on the inside. Someone with access to the books. Could be one of the lieutenants, maybe even someone higher up.”

I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. An inside job. That narrowed it down, but not enough. There were too many people with access, too many variables to consider. And if this had been going on for years, that meant whoever was behind it was patient. Calculated. Dangerous.

“Have you talked to Matteo?” I asked, referring to the head of our financial operations.

Luca nodded. “He’s running his own investigation. Quietly. Doesn’t want to tip anyone off.”

“Good,” I said, my voice tight. “The last thing we need is for this to turn into a witch hunt.”

“Agreed,” Luca said, his gaze steady. “But we need to figure this out, Dante. Fast. If word gets out that someone is stealing from us—”

“It won’t,” I said sharply, cutting him off. “We’ll handle it.”

Luca studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You sure about that?”

I met his gaze, my jaw set. “Positive.”

He nodded slowly, but I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. Luca wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things, and he wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. But this? This was different. This wasn’t just about money. This was about trust. Loyalty. Control. And if we didn’t get a handle on it soon, it could unravel everything we’d built.

“Keep me updated,” I said, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the table. “I want to know the second the accountant finds something. Anything.”

“Will do,” Luca said, tipping his glass toward me in a mock toast.

I sighed. "Valentina called me."

Luca froze mid-swig, the rim of his wine glass hovering near his lips. "Oh this ought to be good."

He stared at me like I’d just told him I’d invited the Russians over for dinner. “Valentina called you?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “And you answered?”

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