Page 29 of Savage Don's Captive

“Are they fucking already?” Matt asks through a mouthful of strawberry.

“Just because you’ve screwed half of Nevada doesn’t mean Luca is too.”

“You know, Enzo,”—Matt narrows his eyes, filling his glass with more booze, —“if you actually showed up for shit, you’d know Luca and Gabriella are in love.”

“Did they tell you that?” Enzo’s voice is flat as a corpse.

“No. But it’s fucking obvious. They hate each other but can’t stay apart. He goddamn glows when she walks in.”

“Gabriella’s too smart to fall for that act.”

“You’re so fucking boring.” Matt shakes his head. “You need to learn how to live a little and get that stick out of your ass.”

Enzo’s been a miserable bastard since we were kids. Can’t blame him entirely. He was too young when everything went to hell—when our parents started dropping and the family cracked. Being the baby meant growing up in the aftermath.

While Matt, Luca, and I had time with Mom—her piano playing, her laugh when we ran wild in the rain—Enzo got nothing. His first memory of her wasn’t her music; it was her dead in a box. Before he knew what love felt like, he knew grief.

That’s why he’s such a cold-blooded prick. I don’t entirely blame him.

“You think I have time for that bullshit, Matteo?” he snaps. “I’m running for fucking mayor next year. The time I have left is packed with meetings and hunting for my campaign manager.”

I’m not sure when politics hooked him. He barely speaks in public. Then, a year and a half ago, he started slipping into rooms with powerful men. What looked like curiosity turned obsessive—reading theory, studying everything. Never explained why, and I never asked. Whatever drives him makes him sharper, more dangerous.

Before I can dig into his political hard-on, Luca bursts in with Gabriella. The doctor’s forehead is creased, urgently whispering something, but my brother’s face tells a different story—that dopey grin plastered across his mouth. The contrast is jarring: her worry against his lovesick puppy routine.

“See,” Matteo whispers to Enzo. “Fucking glowing.”

He’s right. Luca is pussy-whipped, doesn’t even try hiding it anymore. Gabriella’s dressed in black—high-neck top, wide-leg pants—with Luca matching her like they fucking planned it.

Gabriella’s Fabio Giovani’s youngest daughter and the only one of that family I trust. She hates her father with a passion that runs bone deep. When she chose medicine over becoming a mob wife, he cut her off. Made her pay her own way through med school.

When she graduated top of her class, got that Distinguished Service Award for her transplant research, her father’s response was what you’d expect from that cockroach.

He demanded she work for the Giovani family, using his pull to force her into their organization. She told him to go fuck himself, more or less.

Her working exclusively for me is her middle finger to Daddy. Me paying her ten times what normal doctors make is my thanks for her loyalty. Plus, she’s a fucking miracle worker with a bullet wound.

She’s gorgeous too. In another life, she’d be the perfect mob wife by their standards. But now she’s like that cousin you’re excited to see at Christmas and the reason you want to leave early.

I don’t encourage whatever this thing with Luca is because Gabriella’s not on the same page. She’s not even in the same fucking book. She’s here for business and to piss off Daddy. Not looking to settle down. Too married to her work.

“Good morning, Gabriella.” I reach for coffee as Luca smacks Enzo’s arm, telling him to move his ass. It’s like clockwork—Gabriella takes the seat without a word, like it’s been hers for years.

“Good morning.” Her smile is tight as she scans the table. She’s not scared of my brothers—she’s stitched them up more times than she can count. But I know she’d rather it was just me and Luca.

Luca pours her a mimosa, which she downs in one go. Girl needs it.

“Well,” I straighten my back. “Now that everybody’s here—“

“What do you mean everybody’s here?” Gabriella cuts in, and every head turns. Even Matt stops mid-chew. “Alessa isn’t here.”

“Alessa?”

“Who the fuck is Alessa?” Matt and Enzo ask in unison.

“That’s why I wanted you all to come.”

“Is this your girlfriend?”

---