Page 17 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

Anger isn’t easy to forget, but if I’m not stronger than the rage, I’m no better than him.

Chapter Four

Luca

Two weeks later.

“Luca.”

I’m lost in thought, washing blood from my hands, but I got the information I needed about drugs that weren’t mine that invaded my club last night. Pain always makes cowards sing.

“Luca.”

Everyone knows the rules. No violence on the main floor. No drugs unless they are bought from my men. No touching women who are unwilling.

You’d be surprised how many times a night those rules get broken, every night, which is why I have permanent scars on my knuckles.

“Luca!” Alvize yells.

“What?” I snap out of my thoughts.

“I’ve been calling your name for five minutes. Are you okay?”

I grab a towel and dry my hands. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. Everyone knew it too. I haven’t been the same since that one-night stand five years ago. I’ve tried searching for her, and I’ve come up empty. I’ve given up.

Her body still plagues me every night. I can still hear the sweet voice, the shyness of it, and the way she sighed and moaned. Her phantom warmth still causes my heart to skip a beat. She’s ruined me for anyone else. I’ve only been with a few other women since then, and they have all been a means to an end. I pretended the entire time they were Camilla.

Just to get through the sex.

“Luca.” Alvize sounds frustrated. “What the hell is going on with you? Do I need to get you to a doctor? You’ve been getting worse. You’re lost in your head.”

“I’m not lost. I know exactly what I’m doing when I’m doing it. What do you want?”

“Mr. Thompson wants to meet with you.”

I freeze while I pour my whiskey, then slide my eyes to Alvize as he slumps against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Why the hell would he want to meet with me? We decided years ago not to intervene in each other’s territories or connections. If he goes back on that, he won’t win the war. I’ve grown, and he’s stayed stagnant.”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I don’t think it has anything to do with the truce you made. He doesn’t sound too well. He wants to meet with you in an hour.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I took care of business, isn’t it?”

The drug dealer on my floor groans and tries to get up but collapses in a useless bloody heap.

“Take care of that, will you? I’ll meet you in the car. I want to stop at the coffee shop on the way.”

Alvize drags the unconscious body across the floor. “You always want to stop by that coffee shop.”

“They have the best caramel latte I’ve ever had. Plus, Cora is a sweet girl. She runs a small business. It’s important to support small businesses.”

Alvize screws on the silencer to his gun and aims it at the drug dealer’s head. “I don’t disagree with you.”

“Don’t kill him. Let him tell his friends what happens when you break my rules. Dump him in an alley. I don’t care.”

Alvize gives me a nod, and he lifts the guy into his arms before walking down the steps. I stand there for a minute and down my whiskey, a habit I need to cut back on. Sighing as the burn heats my throat, the glass clinks on the table when I set it down, and I head out of the room, taking one last look at the bed I’ve been sleeping in every night for five years.

Fixing my cuff, I head down the stairs. The club is empty since we are closed and looks so much different in this light. The lights are on, revealing a sleek black floor, the chandeliers are sparkling like ice in the winter, and the bartender is behind the bar, stocking up on the alcohol we will need tonight.

---