Luca's POV
It had been days since the funeral, and in the quiet moments-those rare, fleeting seconds when the demands of my world fell silent-I found myself thinking about Cara more than ever. She had been by my side as much as I'd allowed her, so much so that now her presence felt as necessary as breathing.
I couldn't live without her.
With my father's death left a mountain of paperwork. Although he had officially retired after I took over, he had remained a significant part of the organization and continued to work in the background.
Deals needed to be closed. Loose ends needed to be tied off. Dead weights needed to be cut off.
The days that followed the funeral involved meeting with those that had continued business with my father, officially assuming the role of one and only don of the Italian cosa nostra.
I exhaled heavily, tugging hard at my tie as I stepped out into the hallway. There was a lot of paperwork that I needed to attend to, my phone buzzing intermittently with updates from my men, but none of it could hold my attention.
I felt antsy for no reason.
Cara was back in her room with a security detail that rivaled a british royal's but I still couldn't stop feeling uneasy.
She had brought up returning to work and though I'd known this was coming, it didn't make it any easier to accept. She'd explained it perfectly, in that calm, matter-of-fact way of hers, pointing out how she'd been cooped up in the mansion for days while I was busy handling business. She'd said she missed work, missed having something to do. Then there was the fact that she didn't exactly like staying in the Salvatore mansion, a situation we found ourselves in for the meantime because of my funeral arrangements.
I'd understood her reasoning, more annoying than I'd like to admit. I could never tie down that woman for the life of me and not having anything to do must be making her mad with boredom.
But understanding didn't mean I liked it. Nor would I allow it. Not with that vengeful blonde scemo on the loose.
Knowing Alexei and his men were still out there, even though we had yet to hear anything since our last altercation made my chest burn. Every instinct I had roared to keep her here, to protect her, to make sure she was within arm's reach at all times even though I knew that she had enough bodyguards that would lay down their lives for her and inform me of her every move; a decision she had finally gotten used to and made peace with.
I could force her to stay.
I had the means to make anything happen, and Cara knew it as well as I did. But my bambina-my little spitfire-would never let that slide. She'd fight me tooth and nail, her eyes blazing with defiance, her voice sharp and cutting as she stood her ground.
The thought of it made me smile despite myself.
Cara was stubborn, infuriatingly so, and yet I wouldn't have her any other way. She challenged me in ways no one else dared, pushing back when others would cower, and God help me, I loved her for it.
However, the smile on my lips quickly faded the moment I arrived at my destination: my father's study.
It was just a room, four walls and furniture. But it was also more than that. It was his space-a place where he had spent countless hours shaping the empire I was now solely responsible for.
The hesitation didn't last long. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the door open and the faint scent of his cologne was the first thing to welcome me, subtle yet unmistakable.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. For a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in. The dark wood paneling, the shelves lined with books and ledgers, the heavy desk at the center of the room-it all felt frozen in time, like he could walk in at any moment and tell me to get out because I was interrupting.
But he wouldn't.
Shaking off the discomfort in my chest, I moved toward the desk. I wasn't here to mourn; I was here to work.
I began sifting through the drawers, checking for anything that needed immediate attention. Contracts, handwritten notes, files on various business dealings-I scanned each one, making mental notes of what needed to be addressed. It was methodical, almost mind-numbing, but necessary.
A knock at the door broke my focus.
Grigori stepped inside, his posture as rigid as ever. He greeted me with a curt nod and made himself comfortable on the seat before me. "Don."
"Grigori," I responded with a nod, setting the papers in my hand aside. "What's the latest on Alexei's movements?"
"He seems to be off the radar. But his associates and allies have been laying low in Vancouver for a while now," he said, his tone giving away his frustration. "We can assume that the young pakhan is with them."
Canada. The bastard is hiding in fucking Canada.
"No significant activity has been reported. They're probably regrouping, or they may have counted the late don's death as winning the war."
It was an enticing thought. That Alexei would wrap up this shit and run along back home to fucking Russia. But I knew the man, had interacted with him. He was a dog with a bone when it came to his reasons behind this war; relentless, persistent, fucking obstinate.
And if it was for the reasons I believed, this war was far from over. Emilio's death hadn't sated the old pakha and neither would my father's death sate his.
A daughter for a daughter, one of the soldiers that had infiltrated the wedding had said… A sister for a sister.
And now he knew what Cara meant to me, it's clear she was the one he wanted.
I nodded, my mind already turning over the possibilities. "Waiting doesn't mean conceding," I said, finally. "They're simply biding their time. I want eyes on every known associate. If they breathe in a direction I don't like, I want to know about it."
"Yes, Don," Grigori replied, and I gestured for him to have a seat.
"And Amanda?"
"Dominic saw to it that your orders were followed even though she was uncooperative at first," Grigori replied, "She was settled this morning. Her share of assets has been liquidated and paid to her account according to the will and she's headed to her new property in California."
Good.
Amanda's presence in the mansion had been a thorn I was unwilling to tolerate any longer. She had been my father's wife and was still technically Cara's mother-though she had done little to earn that title. That was the only reason I hadn't thrown her out on the streets where she belonged. But I couldn't stomach seeing her around any longer.
"I don't want her stepping foot in Chicago again.''
Grigori nodded. "Understood. About signora Cara…" he trailed off, setting a flash drive on the table.
I immediately grabbed it and jammed the damn thing in my laptop, itching with curiosity.
"I looked into the signora's orphanage records. Like we confirmed before, her birth was never registered but I was able to track down her childhood home and it coincides with the man you asked me to look into… Emilio Lombardi."