Chapter 25 Is He Jealous?
••Luciana••
While I was bound for Sicily, it wasn't to my parents' home, I enjoy the scenery as I looked out the window.
The flight to Sapphire Lounge seemed to stretch on endlessly. As we finally landed, the city lights sparkled below like an ominous signal, and the drone of the jet resonated within me.
Neither Roman nor I moved an inch. We stayed frozen in our seats while our security team swept the tarmac. It was only when one of them nodded that Roman finally let go of the cabin door handle.
As soon as I stepped off the private jet, I was enveloped by a thick atmosphere heavy with cigar smoke, luxurious scents, and an underlying tension that sent shivers down my spine.
Theo walked ahead, pretending to be a bored guest, while two guards blended into the shadows behind us. Sapphire Lounge was the kind of place where danger lounged on velvet seats and counted chips with rings too sharp to be decorated. Men in tailored suits hovered around tables, voices low and dangerous. Laughter erupted from the corner where a group of women lounged across a booth, glossy like polished gemstones.
A poker game snapped with tension nearby, the dealer flicking cards like blades.
Someone brushed past me. Roman’s hand came to my lower back, steady and firm.
I beckoned a passing worker. “I need to see the manager.”
The man blinked. “Do you… have an appointment?”
Theo shifted, hand drifting lazily toward the gun strapped at his waist.
The worker’s breath caught. “O-one moment, please.” He scurried away like he’d just seen the devil.
Moments later, the manager appeared, adjusting his suit so fast I thought he’d rip a seam.
“Princess Luciana.” He bowed slightly, then turned to Roman. “Signor Roman.” Respect poured off him like sweat.
The manager gestured toward a side hall.
“Please. We can talk privately.”
Roman signaled for the guards to stay put as we trailed the manager into a small office tucked behind the bar—its sparse decor gave way to a desk and the faint scent of ink and cigarette smoke, remnants of a stressed existence.
I opted not to sit. “What’s going on with the missing funds? And who approved last month’s supplier changes?”
The manager swallowed hard. “There were… discrepancies. Someone altered the books. And the supplier switch didn’t originate from us. A man claimed he was representing your family, complete with signatures and stamps—all of it.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened. “Describe him.”
“He wore a half-mask when he delivered the documents, sir. It was black and he didn’t say a word.”
Roman’s jaw tightened briefly. It bore the unmistakable mark of Valerio.
I took a breath. “Compile every file related to that transaction. I’ll come back for them.” “Yes, Princess.”
We stepped back out into the corridor, and that’s when a familiar voice broke the air. “Luciana?”
I turned to see Tristiano Petri approaching, a bright smile on his face. In a sea of tension, his presence felt like a warm light. His family had collaborated with mine for years, and he exuded the easy assurance of someone who never feared the ground beneath him.
“Look at you!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a hug before I could even stop him. A small smile crept onto my face. Tristiano was like a cousin I saw occasionally but always remembered fondly.
We exchanged pleasantries—nothing important, just casual mentions of business trips and Sicily. His eyes softened with genuine concern when he asked how I was doing, and I assured him I was well.
Then he turned to Roman.
Roman didn’t scowl or glare. He simply stared with that inscrutable expression that could make even the toughest men falter.
Tristiano cleared his throat and took a step back. “I’ll… see you soon, Luciana.” He left more quickly than he’d arrived.
As he disappeared into the crowd, Roman leaned in slightly.
“If you hug anyone like that again, I’ll make sure he loses an arm.”
I inhaled sharply. “Was that… jealousy?”
His expression didn’t move. Not even a twitch.
I looked away before he caught the small, confused smile forming.
Why did it matter to him? I thought I was only his wife for display. A story for the world. Nothing more.
At least that was what I kept telling myself.
\---
••Roman••
When we returned to the house, the stillness hit me hard. Even the sound of my footsteps felt different, heavier somehow. I issued commands for a patrol, skimmed through a few reports, and tried to reassure myself that she was safe upstairs.
Time dragged on, but the unease lingered.
Eventually, I found myself walking to our room.
There she was, curled up on the bed, a blanket tucked around her legs, her eyes fixated on her laptop screen. She was engrossed in a show that didn’t interest me at all.
She nearly jumped at the sight of me.
“You startled me,” she exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart. “What are you—”
“I’m going to be sleeping in here from now on.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? What prompted this sudden switch? I thought you were planning to stay in the study for a while?”
“I said ‘for a while,’ not forever.”
She blinked, still trying to grasp the change. Perhaps I should have explained more, but the words hovered at the edge of my tongue and refused to come out.
The truth? I didn’t like the idea of her being alone at night after everything that had transpired. The silence between the rooms felt daunting, and the distance made me uneasy; I wanted to be close enough to fend off any shadows that hovered around her.
But those thoughts remained unspoken.
Instead, I moved to my side of the bed and pulled back the covers.
“If you’d prefer I sleep elsewhere,” I said gently, “let me know now.”
She didn’t protest.
She simply shifted a little, making room for me.
And in that moment, something inside me relaxed—quietly, but undeniably.