Chapter 13
Adrian’s POV
The screen of my phone lit up, and I stared at it longer than I should have.
The two words that she said stared at me . Simple and Polite. Nothing more than etiquette.
Thank you.
Lucia’s name glowed above the text, small against the blackness of the display. I should have locked the phone, tossed it onto my desk, and moved on. But my mind betrayed me, dragging me back to the meeting, to the way Miguel’s name had slithered across the table and left her pale as death. The way she flinched, just slightly, but enough for me to see.
She thinks she hides it. She doesn’t. I see all of her reactions and it leaves me wondering why it's so?.
And then Rico—always eager to sow doubt—leaning forward in that smug way of his, saying he had suspicions about her. His words were meant to crawl under my skin, and they did. I’d shut him down in front of everyone, but the seed had been planted. I can't get my mind off his words.
Miguel. Lucia. Suspicions. Betrayal.
Everything tangled together in my mind until it itched with irritation. I pushed back from my chair, the leather groaning, and began to pace up and down. My office was wide, lined with glass on one side, books and steel on the other. But walls only trap you when your thoughts are louder than the silence.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly, trying to bleed the tension out. It didn’t work. My gaze was pulled inevitably to the glass wall that overlooked the inner offices.
Lucia was there.
Her head bent over her laptop, and her dark hair spilled like ink across one shoulder, with shoulders stiff in concentration. From this distance, she looked calm, unbothered, but I knew better. I’d seen her tremble after the meeting. I’d seen her linger in the bathroom too long. And I’d known, instinctively, that she wouldn’t eat. Maybe the threats and accusations got to her, so I did what I could do best.
I sent the food. A practical decision, nothing more. A starving employee made mistakes, and I didn’t tolerate mistakes. That was the line I repeated to myself as I watched her unwrap the meal. But it wasn’t the full truth, and I hated myself for knowing it.
I told myself I kept her close for security reasons, that having her desk positioned within my sightline was protocol. It was easier to watch her, to measure her, to make sure if she slipped, I’d see it first. But the longer I stared, the less that excuse held weight. There's something more to her. Something I need to discover, to know.
Because there was another truth, buried deep where I refused to acknowledge it: she unsettled me. And I didn’t like being unsettled.
My phone rang, the vibration loud against the desk. I turned back, snatching it up. “Di Santi.”
The voice on the other end was urgent, frantic. “Boss—the warehouse. One of the north docks. It’s on fire.”
For a moment, silence roared louder than the words. My jaw clenched so tight it ached.
“What did you say?”
“Fire, sir. It spread fast. We don’t know if it was an accident or deliberate, but—”
I didn’t wait for the rest. “Get everyone out. Contain it. I’m on my way.”
The line went dead.
I grabbed my suit jacket from the chair, sliding into it in one smooth motion. My pulse hammered, not from fear but fury. Fire at a warehouse wasn’t coincidence. Not in my world. It was a message, and whoever sent it thought they could strike at me unseen.
Not possible.
I turned toward the door, but a slight movement caught my eye.
Lucia was on her feet, with concern written across her face. “Mr. Adrian—is something wrong?”
Her voice carried that careful softness she used around me, like stepping barefoot across glass. She didn’t finish the question before I moved past her, with fast strides e. No explanations.
Because if I stopped—if I let myself look at her too long—I’d remember the way her voice had cracked earlier when Miguel’s name came up, or the way her eyes had glistened, betraying the tears she thought no one noticed.
And I couldn’t afford that. Not now.
The door slammed shut behind me, leaving her in silence.
\---
The car ride to the docks was a blur of shadows and lights, the city rushing by as though it knew my temper was pulling the strings. My driver said nothing, and I preferred it that way.
I needed the quietness to think.
A warehouse on fire. North docks. Too valuable to be an accident. Whoever had done this wanted my attention. They wanted me to feel pressure. But what unsettled me wasn’t the fire itself. Fires can be rebuilt, losses recouped.
It was the timing.
Right after Miguel’s name was thrown across the table. Right after suspicion was cast on Lucia. Right after I found myself watching her too closely.
Coincidence? I didn’t believe in those.
I rubbed my jaw, staring out the tinted window. Miguel had been a loyal soldier once. Ruthless, effective, but not careful. His death had left fractures in the ranks, fractures I’d been patching with blood and money ever since. And Lucia—why did her name have to tangle with his now?
Her presence was already a complication I didn’t need. The way her voice lingered in my head after she spoke. The way gratitude, of all things, had slipped from her fingers into my phone tonight.
Thank you.
Damn her.
The car slowed, the glow of fire staining the night sky in the distance. Smoke curled upward, black against the stars. My stomach tightened, a familiar mix of anger and calculation taking over.
When I stepped out, the heat hit me instantly. Men ran back and forth, shouting orders, dragging hoses, trying to fight back the inferno consuming steel and wood, millions of dollars. Sparks rained down like meteors.
“Boss,” one of my men rushed up, his face slick with sweat. “It spread fast. Too fast. We think accelerants—”
“Of course it was accelerants.” My voice cut him off immediately. “Accidents don’t burn this clean. Who was on duty?”
He swallowed hard. “Carlo and his crew. They barely made it out.”
“Find them. I want statements within the hour.”
I moved closer to the blaze, the heat licking at my face. The fire roared like a living thing, devouring everything I owned inside those walls. Product. Paperwork. Money. Months of strategy. All gone in minutes.
But what churned in my gut wasn’t just anger at the loss. It was the knowledge that someone had dared to move against me. And that someone thought they could hide.
They were wrong.
I stood there, watching the flames consume everything, until the smoke clawed at my lungs. Then I turned, issuing orders—secure the perimeter, double patrols, and find witnesses. No detail was too small.
The men scattered, fear and urgency in their eyes.
I walked back toward the car, sliding into the seat, the door shutting me off from the chaos outside. My phone buzzed again, messages piling in, but I ignored them for a moment, staring instead at my reflection in the glass.
Cold eyes. A jaw set like stone. The face of a man who couldn’t afford cracks.
And yet, behind it, something else lingered. The image of Lucia lifting the lid of the food box, the faint smile that had ghosted across her mouth when she thought no one was looking.
It haunted me.
I told myself it was weakness. That my interest was nothing but proximity, nothing but vigilance. She was close because I needed her close, because her connection to my empire now made her a liability until proven otherwise.
But deep down, I knew it was more. And I hated it.
I scrolled back to her message one last time. Thank you.
Two words that shouldn’t mean anything.
I locked the phone, shoving it into my pocket, burying the thought with it.
There was no room for gratitude in my world. No room for warmth, for softness, for the dangerous pull of someone like her.
All that mattered now was the fire, the enemy bold enough to strike, and the revenge I would carve from their bones.
Lucia would have to wait.