Chapter Five: The Devil You Love
1108 Words
The rain fell hard against the glass that morning, soft enough to whisper, loud enough to unsettle. Ariana sat at her desk in her father’s study, surrounded by files, reports, and the faint scent of old whiskey that clung to everything in that room.
Enzo Moretti had left for a meeting uptown, leaving her with “light work” — a euphemism for testing her loyalty.
Most of the papers were routine: shipping manifests, coded transactions, and bank transfers between shell companies she knew better than to question. But one thin folder, tucked beneath the others, caught her eye.
Subject: DeLuca Operations — Confidential Surveillance.
Her heart stilled. She looked toward the closed door, then back at the folder. Her father’s handwriting marked the corner: for review — E.
Slowly, she opened it.
Inside were photographs — grainy black-and-white shots taken from a distance. Luca leaving a meeting. Luca at a dock on the south pier. Luca shaking hands with a man she didn’t recognize.
And then, a name she did.
Matteo Russo.
Ariana’s pulse spiked. The Russos were poison — arms traffickers, enemies of both the Morettis and the DeLucas. If Luca had met with Matteo, even once, that was treason in her father’s eyes.
But the timestamps didn’t fit. The photos were from months ago, before she had even returned to New York.
Her throat tightened. He said he wanted peace… but what if peace was just the cover?
The thought made her stomach turn. She wanted to trust him — needed to — but this was the mafia, not a love story. Everyone lied. Especially men who smiled like danger and kissed like salvation.
A knock snapped her out of her thoughts.
She shoved the file back into the drawer just as her father’s consigliere, Marco, stepped inside. “Signora Moretti,” he said smoothly, “Don Enzo will be home soon. He’ll want those reports ready.”
Ariana nodded, her pulse still racing. “Of course.”
As soon as he left, she exhaled shakily. Her mind screamed to forget what she’d seen — but her heart refused to listen.
That evening, she found herself standing outside the same quiet bar by the river. Luca was already there, waiting in the corner booth, as though he knew she’d come.
He rose when she approached, eyes softening the moment they met hers. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you,” she said, sliding into the seat. “But that’s never stopped us, has it?”
He smiled faintly, but there was something in his gaze — weariness, maybe, or guilt.
She didn’t waste time. “I saw something today.”
His expression changed instantly. “What kind of something?”
“My father has files on you,” she said quietly. “Photos. Reports. Meetings with the Russo family.”
Luca’s jaw tensed. “He showed you that?”
“No. I found it.”
He leaned back, eyes darkening. “Then you know half the story.”
“Then tell me the rest.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stared at her — the rain outside reflecting in his eyes like glass.
Finally, he spoke. “Matteo Russo came to me six months ago. Offered an alliance. I refused.”
“Then why the photos?”
“Because my father didn’t.”
Ariana froze.
“Don Angelo was bleeding money,” Luca continued, voice low. “He made a deal behind my back. I tried to stop him. That’s when the Morettis found out — and started watching us. Your father’s not the only one with spies, Ariana.”
Her stomach twisted. “So your father’s working with the Russos?”
“For now.” His tone was bitter. “He thinks it’ll save what’s left of the DeLuca empire. But it’s killing it.”
She looked down at her hands, the diamond ring glinting in the low light. “My father won’t stop until he has proof. He’s already watching me.”
Luca reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “Then we’re both running out of time.”
The touch sent a familiar shiver down her spine, but this time it wasn’t just desire — it was fear.
“If he finds out about us…” she started.
“He won’t,” Luca said firmly. “I’ll handle it.”
“How? By lying to both our fathers until someone gets killed?”
He didn’t answer. And in that silence, she understood — he already had blood on his hands.
The next night, everything changed.
Ariana had just finished dinner when Marco entered the dining room, leaning close to her father’s ear. Whatever he whispered made Enzo’s eyes darken.
“Who?” Enzo asked.
“DeLuca,” Marco replied. “The son. We have a location.”
Her heart stopped.
Enzo rose from the table, straightening his jacket. “Get the car.”
Ariana forced her voice steady. “Where are you going?”
“An old debt,” he said. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
But she knew. The look in his eyes said everything.
“Father,” she tried, “you can’t—”
He cut her off. “Go to bed, Ariana.”
Her blood ran cold.
When the men left, she waited exactly two minutes before bolting for her coat. She didn’t think — she just moved. Through the hallway, past the guards, out the side door.
By the time she reached her car, her hands were shaking. She called Luca.
He answered on the first ring. “Ariana?”
“They’re coming for you.”
Silence. Then: “How long?”
“Minutes, maybe less. You have to leave, now.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Just go.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.”
Her voice broke. “Please, Luca. I can’t lose you too.”
“I’ll find you,” he promised. “No matter what happens.”
The line went dead.
Ariana sat in the car for what felt like an eternity, watching the rain blur the city lights. Then, in the distance, she heard it — the wail of sirens, the rumble of engines.
Somewhere across town, the Morettis were closing in.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing. The weight of what she’d done hit her all at once — betraying her father to protect the one man she shouldn’t love.
The heiress of New York’s most feared family had just chosen her side.
And there was no going back.
- Writer
