ISABELLA

Chapter 5

The body was gone before I even slid into the back seat of the car. My men knew better than to leave traces. By the time dawn broke, there would be no sign of the thief, no memory of him except the stain on my shoes.

The mansion loomed ahead, carved in stone and arrogance, the kind of place meant to scream power. It wasn’t home, not really. It was a battlefield disguised in marble and glass — especially when Riccardo was inside.

I didn’t bother knocking when I reached his wing of the house. My boots echoed across the polished floors, the doors to his room wide open just enough for me to see the flicker of dim light and hear it — the soft, breathless moans of a woman.

Typical.

I pushed the door open without hesitation.

Riccardo was sprawled back against his sheets, shirt half-open, a maid straddling him. Her eyes widened at my intrusion, and she gasped, fumbling to cover herself.

Riccardo’s head snapped toward me, annoyance blazing in his dark eyes.

“What the f**k, Leo?” His voice was sharp, dangerous. “Do you not understand the concept of knocking?”

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t even glance at the girl again. “Out.”

The command wasn’t for Riccardo. It was for her.

The maid froze, then scrambled off him, clutching her clothes against her chest as she hurried past me, her perfume lingering behind.

Riccardo chuckled. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, smirking. “Always the brute. No manners, no patience. You could’ve waited five minutes.”

I stepped farther inside, my hand still heavy with the memory of the trigger I’d just pulled. My expression didn’t shift. “The goods.”

His smirk faltered. Just a fraction, but I caught it.

I moved closer, standing at the edge of his bed, looming over him. “You want to explain why some rat with shaking hands tried to run off with what belongs to me? Goods that should’ve been secure.”

Riccardo leaned back, his smile returning, though thinner now, sharper. “Maybe you should keep a better eye on your men. If someone managed to get away with your shipment, that’s on you, cousin. Not me.”

The word cousin dripped with venom, a reminder of blood ties that neither of us wanted.

I clenched my jaw, my voice dropping into steel. “Don’t play games with me, Riccardo. That rat had your name written all over his fear. He hesitated the moment I said it.”

Riccardo’s eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking. “You think everything revolves around me. Maybe you’ve made too many enemies to count, Leonardo. Did that ever cross your mind?”

I leaned down suddenly, both hands braced on the mattress beside him, my face inches from his. He didn’t move back — Riccardo never showed weakness — but his smirk wavered.

“I don’t care how many enemies I’ve made,” I hissed. “But I’ll tell you this—if you ever touch what’s mine again, if you ever send your dogs sniffing around my shipments, I will burn this mansion to the ground with you still inside it.”

Riccardo’s gaze darkened, the smirk vanishing altogether.

Then, slowly, he sat up, adjusting his shirt, smoothing down his hair as if nothing had happened. “Careful, Leo. Threats like that sound like treason. And you know how the family deals with traitors.”

I straightened, stepping back, my gun still heavy at my side, itching to be used. “I don’t make threats.”

We locked eyes for a long, dangerous moment —

Finally, Riccardo smirked again, lazy and poisonous. “Then maybe one day, you’ll prove it.”

I didn’t answer. I turned on my heel and left the room, the weight of his words lingering like smoke.

But deep inside, I knew the truth. One day, I would prove it. And when that day came, Riccardo wouldn’t be smirking.

Isabella’s POV

The morning sun did little to wash away the images burned into my mind. The gun. The body falling. The man with cold eyes who grabbed me like I was nothing, who promised death with a whisper.

Leo.

I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again. The way his hand had tightened around my arm. The warning in his voice. “One word, and you’re dead.”

I found Nico in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with a mug of coffee, scrolling lazily through his phone. He looked up as I walked in, his grin instant.

“Morning, Isa. You look like shit.”

I dropped onto the chair opposite him, burying my face in my hands. “I saw something last night. At the club.”

He raised a brow, smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me guess. A guy trying too hard in a cheap suit? Or maybe you’re finally admitting you’ve got a crush on me.”

“Nico, I’m serious.” My voice cracked more than I wanted it to. “I… I saw them kill someone.”

That made him pause. Slowly, he set down his mug, eyes narrowing. “Them?”

I nodded, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “There were men outside and then—” My throat closed up, but I pushed the words out anyway. “They shot him. In the head. Just like that.”

Nico just stared. Then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing.

I blinked at him. “What the hell is so funny?!”

He leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. “Isa, welcome to Italy.”

“This isn’t funny, Nico! I could’ve been—” I stopped, my hands trembling against the table. “He saw me. The one with the gun. He grabbed me and said if I told anyone, he’d kill me.”

The laughter faded from Nico’s eyes, though his smirk lingered. “Let me guess. Tall, dark hair, looks like he could kill a man with just a glance?”

I nodded quickly, shivers racing down my spine. “Yes.”

“That,” Nico said, his voice dropping lower, “would be Leonardo Deluca.”

The name itself felt heavy, dangerous. “Deluca?”

Nico whistled softly, leaning forward. “Okay, Isa, listen carefully. The Deluca family isn’t just some gang. They are Italy. They’ve got their hands in everything—clubs, shipping, politics, even the cops. People don’t cross them, because crossing them is suicide.”

I swallowed hard. “And last night…?”

“Last night, you got lucky.” He shook his head, almost amused. “If Leo didn’t put a bullet in your head right then and there, it means he saw something in you. Or maybe his right-hand man talked him down. Either way, you should thank every saint you know.”

I stared at him, my heart racing. “You’re acting like this is normal.”

“For them, it is.” Nico took another sip of coffee, completely unfazed. “The Delucas don’t forgive. They don’t forget. They rule. That’s just the way it is.”

His words sank deep, colder than the memory of last night. I wondered if getting involved with Nico’s world — with this city — was the biggest mistake of my life.

Nico leaned back in his chair, watching me like he’d just dropped a bomb and was waiting to see if I’d explode. My silence seemed to amuse him even more.

“What?” I finally asked, my voice sharp.

“Nothing,” he said with a grin. “It’s just funny. You’ve only been here what, two weeks? And you’ve already had a personal encounter with Leonardo Deluca. Girls would kill for that.”

“Kill for him?” I repeated, horrified. “Nico, the man literally murdered someone in front of me.”

He lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Yeah, and half the women in this city still dream about being in his bed. That’s Leo for you. Cold, lethal, untouchable. Every rumor about him makes him hotter, apparently.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You’re impossible.”

But Nico wasn’t done. His grin widened, boyish mischief sparking in his eyes. “You know, I actually had a crush on his sister once.”

That caught my attention. “What?”

He nodded solemnly, though his grin betrayed him. “Oh yeah. Aria Deluca. She’s—” He held his hands up like he was sculpting perfection. “Everywhere on i********:. Gorgeous. Like a model, but scarier, if that’s possible. For a whole year, I thought maybe I’d marry her.”

I raised a brow. “Marry her? Does she even know you exist?”

He was already pulling his phone out, unlocking it with a swipe. “Don’t judge me. She’s gorgeous. Like, ridiculously gorgeous. Plus, she’s basically royalty here. Every guy in Italy wants a shot, but—” he tapped on i********:, “—no one even gets close.”

I leaned in as he scrolled through her profile, the screen filling with photo after photo of a stunning woman. Aria had the kind of beauty that didn’t look real—long dark curly hair, striking eyes, lips curved in the faintest smirk, like she knew the world belonged to her. One post showed her stepping out of a luxury car in Milan, wrapped in designer fashion like it was second skin. Another had her sipping champagne on a yacht, sunlight catching the diamond bracelet at her wrist.

“She’s…” I trailed off, unable to find the right word.

“Untouchable?” Nico supplied, sighing dreamily. “Yeah. That’s the word. She’s everywhere on i********:, every magazine, every headline. Fashion shows, charity galas, exclusive parties. And behind it all, she’s still a Deluca.”

I scrolled down, pausing on a picture of Aria with her brother—the same man who had pressed a gun against my arm the night before. Leonardo stood next to her in a black suit, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. His expression was unreadable, cold even in a photograph.

My stomach twisted. “That’s him.” My voice was barely a whisper.

Nico glanced at the screen and nodded casually. “Yep. That’s Leo. Looks good in a suit, doesn’t he?”

“Good?” I scoffed, pulling the phone away as if the image could burn me. “He looks terrifying.”

Nico chuckled, taking the phone back. “That’s his charm. Half the city fears him, half the city wants to be him. And Aria…” His gaze softened again as he stared at her picture. “Aria’s the only person I’ve ever seen who can talk back to him and live to tell the tale.”

I shivered, suddenly aware of how deep the Delucas’ world ran. “So let me get this straight. They’re powerful. They’re dangerous. And you… you have a crush on the mafia princess?”

Nico grinned shamelessly. “Before not now.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning back with a shrug. “But if I’m going to risk my life crushing on someone, it might as well be the most dangerous girl in Italy.”