ISABELLA

Chapter 38

Leo’s POV

I pulled up outside the Moretti estate. Our convoy was small—two cars, a few men—but every one of us was armed to the teeth. You didn’t walk into a Moretti meeting unprepared.

Riccardo adjusted his jacket, sliding his gun inside his holster before we stepped out. “I don’t like this,” he muttered under his breath.

I smirked, though my hand itched over the grip of my own weapon. “You don’t like anything.”

He gave me a sharp look. “I especially don’t like walking into enemy territory when they’ve been cutting off our supplies.”

Fair point. But I wasn’t about to show nerves, not here. Not in front of the Morettis.

The iron gates creaked open, and one of their men led us inside. The Morettis always loved to put on a show—polished marble floors, velvet curtains, gilded furniture. A family of snakes dressing themselves in gold.

We were ushered into a long dining room where their boss, Enzo Moretti, sat at the head of the table. He was old, silver hair slicked back, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, the Deluca boys,” Enzo greeted, his voice smooth but edged with venom. “Finally, we meet properly.”

Riccardo and I exchanged a glance before taking our seats across from him.

“You’ve been blocking our shipments,” I said bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries. “That ends now.”

Enzo chuckled, swirling the glass of wine in his hand. “Business, caro ragazzo. Nothing personal. But if you want your shipments moving again, there must be… compensation.”

“Compensation?” Riccardo echoed, his tone sharp.

Enzo’s smile widened. “A tax. Let’s say… twenty percent.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped, slamming my hand on the table. “You think you can bleed us dry? You must have forgotten who we are.”

That’s when I heard it—a familiar voice cutting through the room.

“Careful, Leo.”

I turned, and my jaw clenched the second I saw him. Dante.

He walked in slowly, confident, his smirk infuriatingly smug. He wore the Moretti crest like it had always belonged to him.

“Wouldn’t want this little business talk to turn into a bloodbath,” Dante continued, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes met mine, sharp and taunting, before flickering briefly—too briefly—like he’d noticed something he wasn’t supposed to.

I knew that look. And I didn’t like it.

Riccardo shifted in his chair, sensing the tension. “And who the f**k are you supposed to be?”

“Dante,” he replied smoothly, eyes never leaving me. “Enzo’s protégé and son.”

The room went silent for a beat, my mind racing. Dante Moretti. Isabella’s ex. But Riccardo didn’t know that. None of them did. Not yet.

Enzo finally spoke again, breaking the silence. “So, Deluca boys. Do we have a deal? Twenty percent, and your shipments move freely.”

I leaned back, forcing my jaw to unclench. “We’ll think about it.”

Enzo laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “Do more than think. Or next time, your crates might not just go missing. They might burn.”

Riccardo stood, glaring. “You’ll regret this power play, old man.”

I followed, giving Dante one last cold stare. His smirk never faltered, but his eyes told me otherwise. He was hiding something—and I had a bad feeling it had everything to do with Isabella.

Flashback – Matteo’s Office, Late Night

I found Matteo in his office, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette burning low between his fingers as he skimmed through reports about the Morettis’ interference.

“You’ve been awfully calm about this,” I muttered, dropping into the chair opposite his desk. My tone was sharp, annoyed. “They’re cutting into our supplies, making moves on our ports, and you’re sitting here like it’s a business negotiation.”

Matteo exhaled smoke slowly, his eyes unreadable. “Because there’s more to this than business, Leo.”

I frowned, leaning forward. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, took a sip of whiskey, and finally met my gaze. “Dante Moretti…” He tapped the ash into the tray. “He’s not just another rival. He’s connected to Isabella.”

The name alone made my jaw tighten. “What are you talking about?”

Matteo studied me, as if bracing for my reaction. “Dante used to be her boyfriend.”

For a second, I didn’t process it. The words just… sat there, heavy, poisonous. Then the meaning sank in, and I felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me.

“Her… what?” My voice came out low, dangerous.

“They dated before she came here,” Matteo said calmly, though his eyes flickered with a hint of regret. “She had no idea who he really was. To her, he was just Dante—the charming guy who made her laugh, the one who seemed normal. But the truth is… he’s Enzo Moretti’s protégé. Mafia born and bred.”

I shot to my feet, pacing the room. Every image of Isabella smiling, every time she looked at me with trust—it all collided with this new truth. Dante’s face next to hers. His hands where mine now belonged.

“She doesn’t know,” Matteo added firmly. “She thinks Dante was just some ordinary boyfriend. But if she ever finds out what he really is—what family he belongs to—“

My fists clenched until my knuckles whitened. Rage simmered in my veins, but beneath it was something else: fear. Fear that he’d come for her. Fear that part of her heart might still belong to him.

I turned back to Matteo, my voice sharp with conviction. “If Dante tries to touch her—if he even whispers her name—I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Matteo didn’t flinch. He simply nodded, like he knew I meant every word.

Present

We were almost at the door when Dante’s voice cut through the room again, smooth and mocking.

“So, Leo…” he drawled. “How’s Isabella?”

SHIT!

My entire body froze. Slowly, I turned back to him, eyes narrowing. Riccardo’s head snapped toward me, confusion clear in his expression.

“What the f**k did you just say?” I asked, my voice low, dangerous.

Dante smirked, pushing off the wall and strolling closer, casual as ever. “Isabella. Your… guest. Your little hidden treasure in the Deluca mansion. Word travels fast, you know.” His eyes glittered with malice. “Especially when the girl used to belong to me.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. Riccardo looked at me like I’d just dropped a live grenade on the table. “The f**k is he talking about, Leo?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, never taking my eyes off Dante.

But Dante wasn’t done. He thrived off the crack of tension he’d just caused. He stepped closer, hands spread as if he was being generous with the truth.

“She never told you, huh?” He chuckled darkly. “Sweet little Isabella… all wrapped up in your arms now, but once she was mine. My girl. My secrets.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “And trust me, Leonardo, she was unforgettable.”

My fists clenched at my sides, rage burning through me. I wanted nothing more than to put a bullet between his smug eyes right there in front of Enzo.

“Leo, is this true?” His tone was demanding, angry, but mostly—betrayed. “You brought a Moretti into our house?”

Dante laughed, savoring every second of Riccardo’s fury and my silence. “Oh, this just keeps getting better. The mighty Deluca, undone by a woman.”

I snapped. In two strides I had Dante by the collar, shoving him hard against the wall, my gun pressing into his ribs. “You say her name again, and I swear to God, Dante, I’ll paint these walls with your blood.”

He didn’t flinch. He just smirked wider, leaning close enough for only me to hear. “She’ll always remember me, Leo. No matter how many times you kiss her.”

I shoved him harder before pulling back, chest heaving, but I didn’t pull the trigger. Not here. Not yet.

Enzo’s voice boomed across the room, amused but warning. “Boys, boys… let’s not get messy. Save the fighting for the streets.”

I turned sharply, storming out, Riccardo right behind me, his face twisted in anger and disbelief.

The ride back was going to be hell.