Chapter 24 Pieces on the Board
••Roman••
“We’ve got a lead.”
Theo’s voice sliced through the quiet as he walked in, his shoulders tense, and eyes sharp. A man doesn’t wear that expression unless the universe just handed him something explosive.
“What kind of lead?” I asked.
“Valerio’s men are moving crates through the old port. It’s not the usual stuff.” His jaw ticked. “Whatever it is, Marco’s keeping it sealed tighter than a bank vault.”
Crates at the old port rarely meant anything good. Usually it meant weapons. Sometimes bodies. Always trouble.
“Gear up,” I ordered. We headed out to the warehouse.
Hours later, we arrived there. We moved quietly but swiftly across the cracked concrete as we swept the area.
Theo spotted him first—a Valerio courier slipping out a side door, head darting around like a rat that knew the cat was already in the room.
We surrounded him in seconds.
He lunged for a knife. Brave. Stupid.
Theo kicked it away, steel clattering across the floor.
I grabbed the courier by his collar and slammed him against the wall. “Marco Valerio,” I said, my voice low. “What’s he planning?”
He swallowed hard.
Theo nudged his boot against the man’s leg. “Start talking. You’re running out of bones we won’t mind breaking.”
The courier’s breath hitched. That was the opening.
“Marco wants leverage,” he blurted. “Something big is coming through the city. He needs control over Sapphire Lounge. That girl—Princess Luciana—she’s been snooping. Marco hates wildcards.”
My jaw tightened.
Luciana.
That woman had a talent for standing right where danger wanted to land.
“What’s in the shipment?” I pushed.
“I don’t know the full content. Marco’s bringing in outsiders… people from outside the families.”
Foreign involvement. That shifted the board entirely.
We dragged him back to the car, Theo questioning him further, but my mind wasn’t listening anymore.
Luciana
Every move she made, every room she entered, every secret she tugged at—always placed her right at the center of every brewing storm.
I needed to get ahead of her before she got ahead of herself.
Which, knowing her, had probably already happened.
\---
••Luciana••
Life slipped back into its usual rhythm, but the calm felt fake. Something underneath kept tapping, like a loose wire waiting to spark.
I sat on my bed with my laptop open, scrolling through Sapphire Lounge’s financial records.Everything looked too clean. Not normal-clean, but “someone scrubbed this until the truth bled” clean.
Each day I dug deeper, each day more cracks formed.
Odd transfers. Gaps in monthly reports. Unexplained third-party invoices.
My father’s explanation—“It’s just a quiet investment”—had aged terribly.
The truth was a song constantly changing its melody. The more I listened, the more I realized I didn’t know the lyrics.Gradually, the puzzle pieces began to connect.
I knew what I had to do. I needed to visit the place, explore it thoroughly, and pursue the truth wherever it led. That meant involving Roman. If I didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t let me step an inch outside that door.
With a sigh, I stood up. A tug of discomfort pulled at my side as I moved, but I ignored it and walked to Roman’s study.
The door stood ajar, so I pushed it open and walked in. He was at his desk, phone in hand, scanning documents as if trying to etch holes into them.
I stepped inside.
He looked up instantly.
“What do you want?”
Straight to the point. Typical Roman.
“I need to go somewhere,” I said.
His gaze followed me silently—one of those looks that demanded answers before I could even think of forming them.
“To Sapphire Lounge,” I said. “I need to go there.”
The air shifted. The temperature didn’t drop, but it felt like it did.
“Sapphire Lounge in Sicily?” he asked.
“You want to go back to Sicily?”
I nodded once.
“Why?”
I closed the gap between us. “Weeks ago, I received a message saying my father placed the Lounge in my name. It also said things were about to spiral out of control. I started investigating.” I inhaled. “Roman, the records are inconsistent. The transactions don’t match its operations. My father lied about what it was. I need to see it for myself.”
“Explain.”So I laid it all out—the gaps, the weird numbers, the shifts that didn’t make sense. He didn’t interrupt. When Roman stayed quiet, it meant he was thinking ten moves ahead, half of them involving threats I probably didn’t see.
When I finished, he leaned back, expression unreadable.
“You’re not going alone,” he said.
“I can take a bodyguard.”
“That’s adorable.” His voice flattened. “If I’m not with you, you’re not going.”
My arms folded before I realized I’d done it. “Roman, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he replied dryly. “And I want you to stay that way.”
I exhaled sharply. “You’re being overdramatic.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You want answers. Fine. But you’re not stepping inside that place without me.”
Arguing with him would be like arguing with a locked steel door. The door wouldn't move, only you did.
“Fine,” I muttered.
Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his phone.
“Get the cars ready,” he said into it.
“We leave in two hours.”
My heart thudded, preparing itself for truths I wasn’t sure I wanted.
Still, I nodded.
The pieces were moving.
And once they did, there was no stopping the board from changing.