Page 9 of Depths of Obsession
“You haven’t answered my question,” I say, scowling as I hesitantly step into the elevator. “Where are we?”
Luca follows me in, pulling the door shut with a clatter. “We’re at my place,” he growls, his voice low and rough, as if his mind is elsewhere. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t give me anything more, and it’s pissing me off.
I fold my arms, glaring at him. “Why are we here?”
“Because this is where I need to be,” he says, his tone clipped, eyes distant.
The elevator jerks to a stop, and Luca throws up the door and steps out into his apartment. I step out and immediately feel a shift in the air. The space is massive, but unlike the cold emptiness of the warehouse below, this top floor feels alive, pulsing with energy. The walls are exposed brick, and floor-to-ceiling windows span the entire length of the room, offering a sweeping view of Milano’s skyline. Industrial yet luxurious, the place screams power—Luca’s power.
Despite my out of control emotions, I take note of the stunning interior. The open floor plan leans into minimalist design. Sleek, dark leather couches frame the central living area, facing a large, built-in fireplace that flickers with the glow of warm flames. The ceiling is high, crisscrossed with steel beams, and polished concrete stretches beneath my feet. There’s an understated elegance here—everything functional, nothing frivolous.
But what truly catches my attention is the far wall, the one opposite the windows. It’s dominated by an array of monitors, each screen flashing with data, security feeds, and a map of the city. Luca doesn’t just own this space—he controls it, every inch of it. The screens blink in and out, displaying surveillance footage from various angles of the city, some locations I recognize, some I don’t. What’s on display isn’t limited to just Milano. I’m pretty sure that Rome and Firenze are also there. Venezia as well. And is that New York? I could have sworn I saw a quick flash of a New York street. It’s like something out of a spy movie, and a chill creeps up my spine. What the hell is this?
Suddenly, it dawns on me. I never really thought about what Luca does for a living. He works for his brother, but Renzo is the head of the family. I didn’t think about Luca’s role. “You’re in charge of security,” I blurt out.
Luca startles, like he’s forgotten I’m in the room, then glances at me and frowns. “Among other things, yes. I keep watch over our businesses, legitimate and otherwise.” He walks over to the setup, fingers gliding across a control panel as if it’s an extension of himself. Within seconds, one of the screens shifts, and a familiar face appears. It’s his brother, Renzo Valdici. Renzo’s cool, calculated demeanor fills the screen, his sharp gaze assessing Luca as if he can read more than just the physical distance between them.
“Luca,” Renzo’s voice is crisp, efficient, just like him. “What the hell happened with Gazzago?”
Luca leans against the counter, his arms folding over his broad chest, the tension in his muscles unmistakable. His gaze is dark as he glances at me and then focused when he turns back to the screen, as if he’s weighing each word before letting it slip free. "Apparently, Gazzago's cousin, Edoardo, tried to rip off both Gazzago and Marcello De Carlo. He was supposed to buy the Queen’s Heart necklace from De Carlo with two point five million of Gazzago’s money, but he only brought five hundred K." His voice drops lower, the danger thickening in the air around us. "De Carlo killed him over it. Now Gazzago wants the necklace and revenge. He knocked one hundred thousand off the original price as a fee for De Carlo killing his cousin, but I don’t trust him. He’s going to kill De Carlo as soon as he gets his hands on that fucking necklace."
The venom in Luca’s voice raises goosebumps on my body, but before I can even process it, Renzo’s voice cuts through, sharper, more calculated. "The hundred K isn’t all the revenge he wants,” his face flickering on the screen like an omen. "He’s already reached out, demanding Pippa as payment. His wife died last year. He claims Pippa played a role in his cousin’s death and he wants reparations in the form of her as his new young bride."
My blood runs cold. “What? No!” My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my throat. “I won’t marry that asshole! I didn’t do anything! I wasn’t involved, I swear it!” The words rush out, desperate, panicked, but there’s a tightness in my chest that makes breathing literally impossible. My head spins, and for a moment, the room tilts dangerously. I sway, my legs unsteady beneath me.
Before I fall, Luca’s arm shoots out, grabbing my bicep, grounding me. His touch is brief, but the heat lingers, though he pulls away almost as if touching me burns him. I manage to stand upright again, but the weight of the situation crushes me. Right on cue my cell phone goes off in my pocket. I don’t have to check to know it’s my father. I close my eyes against the horror of it all.
"She wasn’t involved," Luca growls, his voice a deadly promise. " Gazzago has no claim on her."
Renzo lets out a long, measured sigh. "Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter. Pippa, Gazzago already reached out to your father as well and he agreed to the match. My hands are tied."
The room feels like it’s closing in on me. “My father agreed to this?” His betrayal hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. Luca swears loudly, as he clenches his fists, struggling to contain his rage. He grabs my arm and pins me with his gaze as I struggle to breathe. Somehow Luca seems to calm my body down and a minute later, I’m breathing normally again. He drops his hand.
The screen flickers as Mia appears, her face solemn. She looks straight at me, regret all over her features. “I’m so sorry, Pippa. I just got off the phone with your father. He made the agreement with Gazzago without talking to us. Gazzago even showed him pictures of you… with blood all over you.” Her eyes dart downward, guilt written in the way she avoids my gaze.
My hand wanders to the crusted, dried blood spattered on my shirt. I don’t need to ask; I already know what pictures she’s talking about. It’s all over me. The humiliation of it knots in my throat. Again, I sway. My cell phone goes off and I jump. No way in hell will I answer it now. My father sold me out. I know if I answer he will scream at me for bring shame on the family. He will do more than scream when he sees me again. I feel ill.
“I fell when I was checking for a pulse,” I say through clenched teeth. I’m desperately trying to hold it together. “Why the hell would my father agree to this?”
Mia glances at Renzo who heaves out a sigh. “I’ve been told Gazzago offered him a position with him in Milano. Your marriage to Gazzago would not only be a gesture of forgive and forget about Edoardo, but it links the two families. It also washes your dad and your family clean of your Uncle Luigi’s betrayal. Sure, he sold us out to the Albanians, but, with this marriage, we stand united… All is forgiven. That’s the message.”
My stomach seizes and twists and bile creeps up my throat. This can’t be happening.
“I thought Danillo retired with Aldo? Aren’t they off playing golf somewhere?” Luca comments.
Off playing the ponies more like it. I don’t say that out loud. I’ve been taught to never reveal any family secrets. The fact that my father has become a gambling addict in the last years is not even discussed in our house, let alone outside of it. “He’s not happy about what he sees as forced retirement. If Two Guns offered him a position in Gazzago’s branch of the organization, I’m sure he jumped at the chance.” My father sold me out. I’m his ticket to redemption and a new career. That thought makes me ill and I have to swallow hard so I don’t throw up.
Luca watches me closely, but he doesn’t reach out. “That asshole De Carlo took pictures of her. He must’ve sent the pictures to Gazzago.” His voice is harsh, the anger simmering beneath his words as he addresses Renzo. “Let me kill that bastard Gazzago, and we’ll be done with this.”
Renzo shakes his head slowly, his expression grim. “We can’t kill him. Not yet. He’s the middleman in a deal I’m making with some Afghan drug lords. He’s the only one with the contacts. If he dies, the deal falls apart. We need him alive until the deal’s done.”
Mia chimes in, her voice practical. “How long will that take?”
Renzo shrugs, frustration visible in the tightness in his features. “I don’t know. It’s taking longer than I’d like. Maybe a few weeks, a month at the outside, but I can’t guarantee anything. Gazzago’s playing games, and these guys are cautious. I’ll have some people dig around for a new angle, but until then, Gazzago has to continue breathing.”
I close my eyes and curse. Business always comes first. That’s how it had been in my household growing up and that’s how it is today. Just once, I’d like someone to put me above business. I open my eyes and stare at the screen.
Renzo turns his attention back to me, his eyes sharp. “Do you know where the necklace is? Where De Carlo might be keeping it?”
