Scarlet Promise

Chapter 5 : Dear Pricilla

This was not how Viktor DeLuca had expected to spend his weekend. Meetings had consumed his entire day, draining what little patience he had left. Pricilla was off at one of her races—a dangerous pastime, but it was the only thing that seemed to keep her sane since their mother’s death. Viktor envied her ability to find release. He had no such luxury.

Now, he sat in his office, going over the day’s events with Adrian, his trusted consigliere. The quiet tension in the room was interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone. He glanced at the caller ID, and though the number was unfamiliar, the voice on the other end was unmistakable.

“Give me Enrico, Viktor,” came the soft yet commanding voice. “I just need to send a few bullets through him during a party, and we’re even. After all, an eye for an eye, a bullet for a bullet.”

Her tone was melodic, but there was nothing soothing about it. Isabella Volkov’s reputation preceded her—sharp, ruthless, and unforgiving.

“Enrico is a DeLuca, Isabella,” Viktor replied calmly. “If I had him, I’d put the bullets in him myself. But I don’t. And besides, we can put this behind us. I heard Dante is fine, isn’t he?”

Silence. The kind that made weaker men sweat. Viktor, however, remained unmoved. He wasn’t entirely surprised when, minutes later, his office door swung open. His men sprang into action, weapons drawn, but Viktor didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

There she stood. Isabella Volkov. Emerald eyes as sharp as daggers, her frame deceptively slender, yet she carried an aura of power that even seasoned men respected—and feared.

“I’m here,” she announced, her voice as sharp as a blade. “What do you want to talk about?”

She was either insane, or she truly was the She-Devil they whispered about. No one else would dare walk into the DeLuca estate unannounced.

With a slight wave of his hand, Viktor dismissed his men. Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons and stepped out, casting wary glances her way.

“Isabella, what a surprise,” Adrian began with a nervous smile, attempting diplomacy.

One look from both heirs silenced him. Adrian muttered something about giving them space and scurried out of the room.

Now, it was just the two of them.

“I don’t have Enrico, as you can see,” Viktor said, leaning back against his desk, his arms crossed. “But you’ll have to wait for your revenge.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I will send my message either way, Viktor,” she said, her voice steady, but her words laced with venom.

“And how do you plan on doing that, Princess?” Viktor asked, his tone shifting to playful, yet deadly.

“I will have my revenge, Viktor. The world must know the Volkovs are not a family to cross.”

Viktor smirked, though his gaze remained sharp. “You’re determined, I’ll give you that. But be careful, Isabella. Push too hard, and you might awaken something you can’t control.”

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I haven’t calculated every move since your uncle decided to put a bullet in my brother?”

Viktor tilted his head, amused despite himself. “Then why are you here? Surely not to ask for my blessing.”

“I’m here,” she said, her voice soft but dangerous, “to remind you that if your family can’t clean up its mess, I will.”

For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of her words settling over the room like a storm. Then Viktor let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’ve got fire, Isabella,” he said. “But fire has a way of burning out if you’re not careful.”

She turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. Her voice was almost casual, but the warning in her words was unmistakable.

“Tell Pricilla to wear protective gear when she races. I’d hate for her to get hurt.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Viktor standing in the silence of his office. For the first time in a long while, the heir to the DeLuca empire felt the faintest flicker of unease.