In love with the billionaire rival

CHAPTER THREE: Another empire

The skyline of New York glittered like pieces of diamonds scattered across black velvet. From the top floor of a private building in Manhattan, Luca De Luca stood before glass walls, watching the city that now bowed beneath his rule as he lit his cigarette, puffing it nonchalantly into the peaceful air.

He had spent ten years building his empire and cartel. He had come a long way from loss, bloodstained floors, and shattered glass.

His silhouette was sharp, tailored in dark navy coffins glinting like secrets kept close. His strong physique makes him embody power.

He was now a man carved by pain and rose in silence. The name De Luca regained its power and respect, not just among the streets, but in places where real power whispered. Clubs, docks, warehouses, imports, and account transactions.

And Luca was the one behind it all.

"Mr. De Luca", a voice called from the door.

Daniel, his assistant, entered with a tablet in his hand. He is a trim and somewhat meticulous man who is loyal to the core. The only one Luca trusted enough to stand beside him without flinching, as he knew he needed trustworthy people around him.

"You can't build an empire alone, son," his dad told him one day as he questioned his relationship with Vito. "And you can't build an empire if you're surrounded by clowns, too. Choose people wisely".

His father's words still lay fresh at the back of his mind.

"Your 2 p.m. meeting with the port manager has been rescheduled. They are offering the Queens terminal at half price, I suggest we help grease the customs," Daniel stated.

Luca didn't turn. His eyes were still gazing at the skyline.

"Tell them we'll take it that way. Our orders are high and we have no time to waste. Have the boys move it in next week with half the products, we'll test the ground".

"Understood". Daniel tapped the tablet. "Also, the Russians are stalling again. They claim they want a revised agreement".

"Let them wait. Pull our funds from their warehouse and give it to the Brazilians instead".

Daniel raises an eyebrow. "That'll start a war".

Luca finally turned with an unreadable expression. He tucked his left hand in his pocket. "Then let it start. I don't do business with people who don't know the worth of a deal. They are acting like children, and I'll deal with them the hard way".

Daniel nodded slowly in agreement. "Consider it done, sir".

There was silence for a moment as Daniel scrolled. Then he paused and lowered the tablet.

"There's one more thing. Our man in Mexico called".

At that, Luca's gaze sharpened. He threw the cigarette on the floor and stomped on it with his foot, making it turn to ashes.

"Speak".

"He said they're closer to digging out Poncho's old connection, and a name keeps surfacing. He's identified as El Cazador," Daniel stated.

Luca's brows met each other.

That was an unknown name, and he hadn't heard of it before.

"El Cazador," he repeated slowly, tasting the weight of it. "Any progress on him connected to Poncho?"

Daniel hesitated. "We know he worked for him in Mexico. Ran some errands and handled deals. But no direct trail... yet".

Luca leaned back with his eyes narrowed. "Make it up ur top priority, Dan".

"Understood", Daniel left.

Luca turned back to gaze down at the city once again. Memories of how strong and resilient his father was ran through his mind. He stares at the twinkling skyline of New York. This city had tried to swallow him, but it failed. Now it bowed to him in a subtle way.

But there was one thing he still had to attain: Vengeance.

And Luca wasn't a man who forgot.

He clutched his fist tighter, the memory of Alexandro's body hitting the floor playing behind his eyes like a reel whenever it ended. Vito's blood. The dogs. The fire. And Poncho's silly jokes.

"I haven't forgotten you, bastard", Luca thought. "You must eat your flesh and drink your blood".

**********

Later that night, at one of the upper Manhattan lounges Luca frequented to rewind and calm his thoughts, the music hummed low and occupied the whole space, expensive jazz mixed with velvet lights. The kind of place where secrets and pain tasted better with ice and lime.

Luca walked in with his usual stoic manner. Heads turned, with muttering and little gossip flying in the air as he walked past them. No one dared to come close to the famous De Luca, as he is rumored to have the most dangerous gangsters in New York.

He moved with purpose, his guards a step behind him, barely noticeable.

He made his way to the private lounge booth and poured a drink, checking a message from Daniel.

"We've confirmed: El Cazador has a bass in Jersey. Quiet. Low profile. But we're getting closer".

A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips.

But El Cazador. Jersey. That's too close, he thought.

He used his fingers to roll the glass of the drink. Poncho had his way of doing things, but he was a careless and lazy man who used others to get what he wanted without putting in the work. But Luca didn't care. Anyone tied to his father's murder couldn't stay breathing for long.

"Good. Find out everything you can. I want more eyes everywhere. And prepare the men. If El Cazador is here, then Poncho isn't far behind". He replied to Daniel through text.

Luca turned to the window, watching the city pulse below.

Then suddenly, a woman entered. She didn't enter like most women, elegant and stunning in every way. She simply walked in, alone, quiet, head high.

She wore a red slip dress. Her curls bounced down her back with every step. She wore an elegant and rich necklace with a few other jewelry. No fear.

She ordered a drink at the bar. Luca noticed the way her well-kept fingers tapped the counter to the rhythm of the music. And when she turned slightly, their eyes met for a second.

But that second held something.

Recognition? curiosity? Admiration?

He couldn't tell.

She didn't approach.

She didn't flirt.

She simply... existed.

And for the first time in a long while, Luca forgot the weight of blood and names. He just watched her.

"Lady Ellara", the bartender greeted her, to which she responded with a bright smile.

So that was her name.

Luca filed it away like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

The night continued. He didn't speak to her. Didn't approach to ask for her name. There was too much at stake. Too many circling him like vultures. He had enemies closer than friends. The cartel world wasn't a place for romance, not anymore.

He turned away and downed the last of his drink and turned to leave. Her presence followed him faintly, light, like she didn't know what it meant to be haunted.

Luca's jaw clenched as he stepped into the night air. He had business to finish. And she, whoever the f**k she was, wasn't part if it.

Not yet.