Page 16 of Vows Made in Silence
I could barely breathe, could barely keep my knees from buckling under the weight of it all.
And Luca? He stood taller, darker, a storm ready to swallow Geno whole.
"This is the last warning you get," Luca said, each word ice. "Say her name again, and you won’t leave this gallery. I’ll make damn sure of it."
For a beat, no one moves. The tension is a loaded gun cocked in the center of the room.
Then Geno finally breaks the stillness, giving a slow, mocking bow. “As charming as ever, Luca. I’ll leave you lovebirds to your... unfinished business.”
He turns his back, but not before flashing me a parting glance—one that says this isn’t over. Not even close. “See you around, Giuliana.”
My name, spoken in full, sends a chill straight down my spine.
The front door creaks open, then shuts with a heavy finality. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Luca doesn’t move.
He watches the door like it’s a live wire, like Geno’s shadow still stains the floor. His silence is more than rage—it’s calculation.
Ten minutes ago, he was the boy I kissed beneath silver bleachers and the man who whispered forever in the dark. Now, I barely recognize him. My leaving didn’t just break him—it built something darker. Sharper. A king forged from betrayal and grief, with vengeance stitched into every breath.
His hand hovers near his jacket again—not out of fear, but out of readiness. If Geno so much as turns back, he’ll be met with a bullet between the eyes.
I swallow the scream that rises in my throat.
“What now?” I whisper.
Luca turns to me, eyes burning with fury and something far more volatile—devotion sharpened into vengeance. His voice is gravel and fire. “Now? Now we remind every man who breathes my name that I don’t forgive, and I never forget.”
I nod slowly, dread blooming in my chest.
Luca reaches into his coat, pulls out his phone, and dials. “Turk,” he says. “Roselli just left. I want eyes on him—and if he turns back toward the Strip, I want him intercepted.”
A pause stretches. On the other end, in the dim pulse of a backroom beneath one of Luca’s quiet casinos, Turk leans forward in his chair, jaw tightening. The weight in Luca’s voice tells him everything—this isn’t a watch order. It’s a battlefield maneuver.
“You got it,” Turk replies, tone clipped, deadly. His other hand’s already scribbling names on a notepad, lines of exit routes and Roselli’s recent habits. “You want him breathing, or leaking?”
“Just make sure he doesn’t disappear before I get answers,” Luca growls.
Turk’s lips twitch into something that could almost pass for a grin. He lives for these orders.
“Consider him caged,” he says.
He ends the call and immediately begins dialing in backup, voice cold and efficient. “It’s go-time. Shadow Roselli. Stay dark. If he changes his tie, I want to know before he does.”
Luca hangs up without another word, slipping the phone back inside his jacket like it’s a holstered weapon.
“He never walks into a place without knowing every exit,” he mutters. “That wasn’t a visit. That was a warning shot.”
I lean against the pedestal behind me, trying to breathe. “What does he think we’re planning?”
Luca stops mid-stride, eyes locking with mine. “He thinks I’m expanding the empire. That I’m carving out something that belongs to the New York Family. And you...”
He steps toward me, slow, controlled, deadly. “You, Giuliana, are the fucking powder keg.”
“Are they wrong?” I whisper.
His mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile. It’s a promise. “No.”
