Chapter 31 Amelia
Amelia
The Minister looks like he is about to have a heart attack. He stares at me and then at Luca. The girl on his lap realizes the mood has shifted and slides away. She disappears into the crowd of swirling bodies and neon light. The music is still thumping. A woman on the stage nearest to us is hanging upside down from a pole. Her hair brushes the floor. The men around her are cheering and throwing bills.
It is a bizarre backdrop for a business meeting. I watch Luca out of the corner of my eye. I am shocked. I spent weeks seeing him as the charming billionaire. I thought he was just another wealthy man looking for a bit of fun and perhaps a bit of trouble. But the man sitting next to me now is someone else. He is colder. He is harder. There is an edge to his voice that belongs in a war room, not a boardroom.
Luca pulls out a chair for me. He does it with mock gallantry. I sit down. I feel the cold air on my bare shoulders. I lean back and cross my legs. The silk slip rides up my thigh. I see the Minister’s eyes flicker down for a second before he catches himself.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Minister," I say. I pick up a stray grape from the fruit platter on the table and pop it into my mouth. "I assure you, I am very much alive."
The Minister finds his voice. He straightens his red tie. He tries to look like a man in control. "Captain. I heard you were on leave. I didn't expect to find you in a place like this. Especially not with someone like Mr. D'Angelo."
"Luca is a friend," I lie. The word feels strange on my tongue. "And he was kind enough to show me how the other half lives. It is much more interesting than the barracks."
Luca sits down next to me. He doesn't look at the Minister. He looks at the dancers. He looks bored. He reaches out and picks up a clean glass. He pours himself some of the Minister’s expensive vodka.
"Let's skip the small talk," Luca says. He leans forward. The light from the crystal chandelier reflects in his dark eyes. "I want the land. The base. I want the development rights and I want the zoning permits."
The Minister stiffens. "That is government property. It is not for sale to private interests. Even for a man of your stature, Luca."
Luca laughs. It is a dry sound. "Everything is for sale, Minister. Especially you. I just want to know the number. How much does it cost to buy you? What is your price to turn your back on your country and hand me the keys?"
The Minister’s face turns a deep shade of purple. He slams his hand on the table. The noise is lost in the bass of the music, but the vibration shakes the glasses.
"How dare you," the Minister snaps. He leans over the table. "You think you can come into my city and insult me? You are a tech mogul, D'Angelo. A man who got lucky with some investments. I am a representative of the state. I don't care how much money you have. You don't talk to me like that."
The air around the table suddenly drops twenty degrees. Luca’s expression doesn't change, but his eyes turn lethal. I feel a chill run down my spine. This isn't the man I thought I knew. This is someone who knows exactly how to break a person.
Luca sets his glass down. He does it slowly. He leans in until he is inches from the Minister’s face.
"Remember your place," Luca whispers. The tone is so quiet it is terrifying. "The state didn't save your daughter from that scandal in Milan last year. I did. The government didn't pay off your gambling debts. I did. You aren't a representative of anything but my interests. You are a clerk with a fancy title. If I decide you are no longer useful, I will replace you before the sun comes up."
The Minister's bravado vanishes. He looks like he is shrinking into his suit. He glances around the club. His security team is standing a few yards away, but they aren't moving. They look at Luca with a fear that shouldn't be reserved for a simple billionaire.
"I need time," the Minister stammers.
"You have until tomorrow," Luca says. He stands up and pulls me with him.
I feel the weight of his hand on my waist. It is possessive. It is a warning to the Minister and everyone else in the room. We walk away from the table. I can feel the Minister's eyes on my back.
"That was intense," I say as we weave through the crowd. "Who are you, Luca? Truly? I thought you were just a man with a big bank account."
A dancer in a red bikini brushes past me. She smells like coconut and sweat. She gives Luca a playful slap on the shoulder and he just smiles. This is his playground.
"I am whatever I need to be, Amelia," Luca says. "Power makes men forget who actually holds the leash. He needed a reminder."
We stop near the main stage. The music shifts to something slower and more primal. A woman in a sheer wrap is moving in the center. She looks like smoke. She is beautiful and dangerous. I find myself mesmerized by the way she moves.
"You're staring again, Amelia," Luca murmurs. He is standing behind me. I can feel the heat of his body. "Do you like the show?"
"I've never seen anything like this," I admit. "It's honest. Everyone here knows what they want. There are no uniforms to hide behind. But you? You're hiding behind a very expensive suit."
Luca leans down. His lips are inches from my ear. "Is that what you want? To see what is underneath?"
"I want a drink that I didn't steal from a corrupt politician," I say. I turn around to face him.
The club is a blur of movement around us. Dancers are swinging from the rafters. Men are laughing. The smell of perfume is overwhelming. Luca looks down at me. He reaches out and brushes a stray hair from my face. His touch is light, but it feels like a brand.
"I can get you whatever you want," he says.
"Then get me out of this crowd for five minutes," I say. "I need to breathe."
Luca nods. He leads me toward a back hallway. It is quieter here. The walls are lined with black velvet. We pass a few doors where I can hear muffled laughter and the clinking of glasses. He opens a door at the end of the hall and pulls me inside.
It is a private lounge. There is a single leather sofa and a bar. The lights are low. A large window looks out over the club floor, but it is one-way glass. We can see them, but they can't see us.
I walk to the window. I watch a girl on the floor below. She is covered in gold paint and she is dancing for a group of young men who look like they have more money than sense.
"It's a long way from the desert," I say.
"It's better than the desert," Luca says. He walks to the bar and pours two glasses of champagne. He brings one to me.
I take the glass. I take a long sip. The bubbles burn my throat. I feel the exhaustion of the last few days finally hitting me. But I also feel a strange buzz. It is the adrenaline. It is the danger. It is the man standing next to me.
"Why are you doing this, Luca?" I ask. I don't look at him. I keep my eyes on the gold girl below. "You aren't just a businessman. You handled him like a man who kills for a living."
Luca doesn't answer right away. I hear him set his glass down. I feel him move closer. He stands behind me. He doesn't touch me, but I can feel the space between us closing.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you in that dress," he says.
I turn around. He is right there. He is leaning against the window frame. He looks relaxed, but his eyes are searching mine.
"It's a slip, not a dress," I say.
"It's a weapon," he corrects me. "And you use it well."
"I'm a soldier, Luca. I use what I have. Even if I don't know who I'm using it for anymore."
"You aren't a soldier tonight," he says. He reaches out and takes the glass from my hand. He sets it on the ledge. "Tonight, you are just Amelia."
He steps into my space. My back is against the glass. I can feel the vibrations of the club music through the pane. It feels like the whole building is pulsing. Luca puts his hands on the window on either side of my head. He traps me.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"I'm wondering if you're as brave as you pretend to be," he says.
He leans in. I can see the pulse jumping in his neck. I should push him away. I should knee him in the groin and run for the door. But my hands stay at my sides. My breath hitches in my throat.
Luca doesn't kiss me. He just stays there, inches away. He is watching me. He is waiting for me to make the first move. He wants me to want it.
"You're a jerk," I say.
He smirks. "And you're still staring at my mouth."
I let out a frustrated huff. "It's a very loud club, Luca. I'm just trying to hear you."
"Liar," he whispers.
He moves one hand from the window. He traces the line of the silk slip where it meets my chest. His fingers are calloused. They snag slightly on the delicate fabric. The sensation sends a jolt through me that makes my toes curl.
"We should go back out," I say. My voice is shaky.
"The Minister isn't going anywhere," Luca says. "And the night is just getting started."
He leans down and nuzzles the spot behind my ear. His stubble grazes my skin. I close my eyes. I hate how much I like the way he smells. I hate that I feel safer in this den of iniquity with a man I realize I don't know at all.
"You're going to regret this," I tell him.
"I regret a lot of things," Luca murmurs against my neck. "But this won't be one of them."
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. The teasing is gone. There is a hunger there that scares me. It isn't just about the mission or the power. It is something deeper. Something darker.
"Come on," he says, grabbing my hand. "I want to show you the VIP roof. The view is better."
He leads me out of the room. I follow him. I tell myself it's because I have no choice. I tell myself it's because I need him to get my revenge. But as we walk through the velvet hallways, I know I'm just looking for an excuse to stay close to the fire.
The elevator ride is silent. The walls are made of gold-tinted glass. I can see the club floor shrinking below us. The dancers look like tiny, glittering dolls. The heavy bass of the music becomes a dull throb in the soles of my boots. Luca stands with his hands in his pockets. He is not looking at me. He is looking at his own reflection. He looks perfectly calm. I feel like I am vibrating out of my skin.
The doors slide open with a soft hiss. The air on the roof is freezing. It hits my bare shoulders like a slap. I gasp and instinctively wrap my arms around myself. The city of Verona is spread out beneath us. It is a sea of amber lights and dark stone. The wind is sharp. It carries the scent of rain and old chimneys.
Luca walks to the edge of the roof. There is no railing. There is only a low stone ledge. He stands right on the brink. He looks like he could step off and fly. Or fall. I don't think Luca falls. He probably just expects the ground to move out of his way.
"You're going to catch a cold," he says. He doesn't turn around.
"I've survived mountain treks in the Alps with less clothing than this," I say. I walk toward him. My heels click on the concrete. "A little wind isn't going to kill me."
"It is a beautiful view," he says. He gestures to the horizon. "Most people only see the streets. They don't see the patterns. From up here, everything looks like a game of chess."
"Is that what this is to you?" I ask. I stop a few feet away from him. "A game? You just humiliated a government official in front of a room full of naked women. You talked about saving his daughter like you were checking an item off a grocery list."
Luca finally turns to face me. The moonlight catches the sharp line of his jaw. He looks older up here. More tired. But also more dangerous. "The Minister is a man who thinks he is a king. He needed to remember that he is just a pawn. I provide the board. He just plays on it."
"I thought you were a tech mogul, Luca," I say. I take a step closer. The wind catches the silk of my slip. It flutters against my legs. "I thought you were the golden boy of the stock market. But businessmen don't have security teams that can stare down the Minister of Defense's guards. They don't talk like they own the city's secrets."
Luca walks toward me. He moves slowly. He is like a panther in a suit. "I am many things, Amelia. I told you that. People see what they want to see. The public wants a billionaire they can admire. The Minister needs a man he can fear. I give them both what they need."
"And what do you give me?" I ask. My voice is barely a whisper over the wind.
He stops right in front of me. He is so close I can feel the heat radiating from his chest. It is the only warm thing on this roof. He reaches out and takes my hands. His palms are large and rough. He pulls my arms away from my chest.
"I give you the truth," he says. "Something you haven't had in a long time. Your father lied to you. Your unit betrayed you. Even your own mirror lies to you when it tells you that you are broken."
"I'm not broken," I snap. I try to pull my hands away, but he holds them tight.
"Then stop acting like a victim," he says. His eyes are intense. They are like two dark voids. "A victim waits for the storm to pass. A soldier becomes the storm. Which one are you tonight?"
I look up at him. I feel a surge of anger. It is hot and bright. It burns away the chill of the wind. I yank my hands free and shove him. I don't do it gently. I put my weight into it. He stumbles back a half step. He looks surprised.
"I am the one who is going to make you regret ever picking me up from that clinic," I say. I point a finger at his chest. "You think you can just play with my life? You think I'm a tool for your business deals? I am a Captain. I have led men into places you couldn't even dream of."
Luca laughs. It is a genuine laugh this time. It is low and rich. "There she is. I was wondering when she would show up."
"Shut up," I say.
I am breathing hard. The adrenaline is pumping through me. I feel alive. I feel powerful. I look at him and I don't see a billionaire. I see a challenge. I see a man who thinks he can handle me.
"You're shivering, Amelia," he says.
"I'm fine," I growl.
He doesn't listen. He reaches out and unbuttons his suit jacket. He slides it off his shoulders and steps behind me. He drapes the heavy wool over my shoulders. It is warm from his body. It smells like him. It is heavy and protective. I want to throw it off, but I don't. I let it settle around me.
He keeps his hands on my shoulders. He leans down and speaks into my ear. "Better?"
"Slightly," I admit.
We stand there for a long time. We look out over Verona. The city is quiet from this high up. I feel the weight of his hands. They are heavy and solid. They feel like an anchor.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"Now, we wait for the Minister to make his choice," Luca says. "He will either give me the land or he will try to have us killed. Either way, the game continues."
"And if he tries to kill us?"
Luca’s hands tighten on my shoulders for a brief second. "He will fail. I don't lose, Amelia. Not when the stakes are this high."
I turn around in the circle of his arms. I am still wearing his jacket. It is way too big for me. I look like a child playing dress up in a killer's clothes. I look up at him. His face is inches from mine. The air is electric. The sarcasm is gone. The business is gone. There is only the two of us on a roof in the middle of the night.
"You're a very dangerous man, Luca D'Angelo," I say.
"And you're a very dangerous woman, Amelia," he replies.
He reaches out and traces the line of my lower lip with his thumb. It is a slow, deliberate movement. My heart skips a beat. I should walk away. I should go back to the elevator. But I stay. I stay because I want to see what happens next.
He leans in. I close my eyes. I expect him to kiss me. I expect the fire. But he just presses his forehead against mine. We breathe the same air. It is a moment of pure, raw connection. It is more intimate than anything we have done so far.
"Let's go home," he whispers.
He lets go of me and walks toward the elevator. I follow him. I am wrapped in his jacket. I am wrapped in his world. I don't know where this is going. I don't know if I will survive it. But as the elevator doors close, I know one thing for sure.
I am never going back to being the girl in the silk sheets.
The elevator doors open into the underground parking garage. The air down here is stagnant. It smells like exhaust and damp concrete. Luca doesn't say a word. He keeps his hand on the small of my back. He guides me toward the matte black SUV. Matteo is already behind the wheel. The engine is a low hum that echoes off the walls.
I am still wearing Luca’s jacket. It feels heavy on my shoulders. It is a reminder of the heat on the roof. I slide into the back seat. Luca follows. He sits close to me. He doesn't look like a man who just threatened a government official. He looks like he is thinking about his next investment.
"Get us back to the estate, Matteo," Luca says.
The car moves. We exit the garage and merge into the quiet streets of Verona. The city is different at three in the morning. It is empty. It is eerie. The streetlights flash past the tinted windows. I watch the blur of grey and yellow. My mind is spinning. I keep thinking about the look in the Minister's eyes. It was pure terror.
"You're quiet," Luca says. He is watching me.
"I'm processing," I say. I pull his jacket tighter around me. "I spent my life thinking the world worked one way. Rules. Chains of command. You just showed me that a bank account and a few secrets can override all of it."
Luca leans back. "The rules are for the people who need to be told what to do. You were one of them. Now you see the truth. The world belongs to those who are willing to take it."
"And what happens when someone tries to take it back from you?" I ask.
"They are welcome to try," he says.
The SUV slows down as we approach a narrow bridge. The river below is a dark ribbon. Suddenly, the brake lights of a car in front of us flare bright red. Matteo slams on the brakes. My body jerks forward. The seatbelt locks against my chest.
"What is this?" Luca asks. His voice is calm but lethal.
"Roadblock," Matteo says. He is already reaching for the holster under his arm. Why does he own a gun? And why is it in the car?
I look out the front windshield. A silver sedan has parked sideways across the bridge. It is blocking both lanes. I look behind us. Two more cars have pulled up close to our bumper. They have pinned us in.
Three more cars pull up on the sidewalks. Six cars in total. It is a perfect ambush.
"Stay down, Amelia," Luca says. He doesn't sound scared. He sounds annoyed.
The doors of the surrounding cars fly open. Masked men step out. There are at least a dozen of them. They are all wearing tactical gear. They aren't street thugs. They move with military precision. They raise their weapons. The barrels of their rifles are pointed directly at our windows.
"Out of the car!" one of them yells. His voice is distorted by a megaphone. "Hands where we can see them!"
Matteo looks at Luca in the rearview mirror. "Boss?"
"Wait," Luca says.
I feel the adrenaline hit my system. My training kicks in. I scan the perimeter. Six cars. Twelve shooters. We are in a bulletproof vehicle but they have us trapped on a bridge. If they have armor piercing rounds or explosives, we are sitting ducks.
"They aren't the Minister's men," I whisper. I point to the way the man on the left is holding his rifle. "That is mercenary work. High end."
"I know who they are," Luca says. He reaches into the side pocket of the door and pulls out a handgun. He checks the magazine with a practiced click.
One of the masked men walks toward the driver's side window. He carries a heavy sledgehammer. He swings it with full force. The glass cracks but doesn't shatter. The sound is like a gunshot inside the quiet cabin.
"Amelia," Luca says. He grabs my hand. His grip is like iron. "When I say go, you dive into the front seat. Matteo will give you a weapon. Do not stop shooting until they are all down."
"I don't have a weapon," I say.
"You do now," Matteo says. He tosses a compact submachine gun over his shoulder. It lands in my lap.
The man with the sledgehammer swings again. This time the glass spiderwebs. A third hit and it will give way.
"Go!" Luca yells.
Everything happens in a blur. I scramble over the center console. I ignore the gear shift digging into my hip. I land in the passenger seat just as the window shatters. Shards of glass rain down like diamonds.
Matteo opens his door and uses it as a shield. He starts firing. The muzzle flashes are blinding in the dark. I lean out the passenger window and pull the trigger. The recoil of the submachine gun is familiar. It feels like coming home.
I see one of the masked men go down. He falls back against the hood of the silver sedan. Another one ducks behind a car door. The air is filled with the smell of cordite and the deafening roar of gunfire.
Luca is in the back seat. He is firing through the rear window. He is precise. Every shot he takes finds a target.
"We need to move the car!" I shout over the noise.
"I can't!" Matteo yells back. "They've spiked the tires!"
I look at the tires. They are shredded. We are stuck.
More men emerge from the cars. They are closing in. They realize we are pinned. They start to concentrate their fire on the engine block. They want to disable the car completely.
A flash-bang grenade skitters across the pavement. It lands right under my door.
"Cover your eyes!" I scream.
The world turns white. My ears ring with a high pitched whine. I lose my sense of direction for a second. I feel someone grab my arm. I try to swing the butt of my gun but I am disoriented.
I feel myself being pulled out of the car. The cold night air hits my face. I struggle. I kick out and feel my boot connect with something solid. I hear a grunt of pain.
"Get the girl!" a voice shouts.
I blink my eyes. My vision is blurry. I see Luca fighting two men at once. He is a whirlwind of violence. He snaps the arm of one man and uses him as a human shield. He looks at me. His face is covered in blood.
"Amelia!" he roars.
A heavy hand clamps over my mouth. A thick arm wraps around my waist. I am being dragged toward one of the getaway cars. I try to reach for the knife I know Luca keeps in his jacket pocket, but my arms are pinned.
I look at Luca one last time. He is screaming my name. He is trying to reach me. But there are too many of them.
The door of the silver sedan slams shut. The locks click. The engine screams as the driver peels away.
I am pushed down onto the floor of the car. A cold barrel of a gun is pressed against my temple.
"Don't move, Captain," a voice says. "We've been looking for you for a long time."
The car speeds off into the night. I am alone. I am captured. And for the first time in my life, I am terrified of what comes next.