Chapter 111 Rocco
The De Luca household was quieter than usual, but not the peaceful kind of quiet. It was the strained kind of silence that hummed with tension, too many unanswered questions.
Rafael's office had the smell of burnt espresso and gun powder when I walked in. He was slouched over his desk, rolled-up sleeves, abandoned half-full coffee cup beside a stack of files. Riccardo was sitting opposite him, spinning a coin across the smooth wood, attempting to appear relaxed.
They both looked up when I closed the door.
"About time," Riccardo grumbled when I walked in.
I glared at him and he closed his mouth and went to the desk. "What've we got?"
Rafael spoke fast. "Two employees tried to sneak out early this morning. We caught them before they reached the gate. One of them broke."
That caught me. "What did he tell you?"
Rafael threw a picture on the desk. A man, mid-forties, hollow eyes and a face that was desperate-looking. "He told them they were paid in cash to keep the west wing doors unlocked for the party."
"By whom?"
"Now this is the interesting part." Rafael's tone went low. "He didn't have a name. Claimed he was contacted by an intermediary who introduced himself as the Broker."
I leaned my elbows on the desk edge, folding my arms. "The Broker?"
"Yeah. Shadowy character. No fixed territory. Only appears when someone wants something done and does not want it traced."
I frowned. "Someone hired him to send that hitman here?"
Rafael nodded. "And the payoff, according to the guy's story, was generous. Too generous. Which means whoever commissioned the hit wasn't blowing smoke, they wanted to make an impact."
Riccardo spoke up for the first time, his voice strained. "Maybe a rival family. One that feels threatened now that the De Luca and D'Angelo romance is on. Official."
"Maybe," I replied. "But something doesn't feel right."
Rafael's gaze met mine in comprehension. "Fiorella's uncle?"
I clenched my teeth. Even considering it made something vile churn in my stomach. "I wouldn't put it past him. He has already tried to make us work up against one another. But I don't think he'd have the infrastructure to mount something like this."
"Then who?" Riccardo asked, flipping through one of the folders with impatience.
That was the question.
Rafael placed another sheet on the desk, a grainy photograph from one of the security cameras taken seconds prior to the blackout. Next to the man with the knife that cut its way into Rosalia's side was another man I didn’t recognise.
Even through the blur, something was recognizable about him, the tattoo running up his neck, a serpent's tail-shaped mark. I'd seen it before.
"Shit," I growled.
Rafael caught on immediately. "You recognize that mark?"
"Yeah." I sat up, any remaining fatigue burned out of me. "That's of the Valenti Syndicate."
Riccardo's eyes widened. "The Valenti? Those psychos?"
"The same," I snarled. "Not psychos. They're professional, merciless. And they don't stop until their mission succeeds."
Rafael leaned forward, all of his tranquility gone. "So whoever they are, they are not attacking us randomly?”
I nodded once. "The Valentis don't move until a lot of money is on the line or unless they are avenging something or someone. So that means it wasn't about party crashing. It was intentional."
No one said anything for a moment. The Valentis weren't merely a family. They were assassins, renowned for revenge, for settling old scores in blood. Nobody disobeyed them and lived long enough to tell the story.
Christ, I growled, running my hand through my hair. "If they're attacking us, it's not an accident. Someone in the family did something wrong."
Rafael released a harsh breath. "Same as I thought. But who? The De Lucas have never moved against the Valentis. We don't do business on their turf."
"Then it's not us," Riccardo said, his voice trembling now. "Perhaps through Rosalia’s family?
“I won’t put it past him, that man is too sneaky, selfish and greedy. He must have done something.” Rafael growled in annoyance.
Rafael's phone rang, breaking the tension. He checked the screen and growled under his breath. "Rosalia's father."
I scowled. "Does he know?"
"I was going to call him today," Rafael said, rubbing his jaw. "Guess he got to me first."
He answered on speaker.
"Rafael!" The man's voice thundered in the room. "How could you not tell me my daughter was attacked at your home? My men had to tell me!"
Rafael's voice did not falter. "Antonio, calm down. Rosalia's fine. She's resting. The doctor instructed me—"
"I don't care what the doctor instructed you !" Antonio bellowed. "Your enemies attacked my daughter. At your mansion! What kind of protection is that?"
Rafael's eyes turned black, but he did not raise his voice. "She's my wife, Antonio. She's safe now. And the person or people behind it won't be breathing much longer."
"That's not enough."
"It'll have to be," Rafael said. "Unless you want to make things worse."
There was a moment of silence before it crackled down the line. Then I broke it. "Antonio, has your family ever done business with the Valenti Syndicate?"
The subsequent silence was one of stunned silence.
"Antonio?" Rafael pressed.
Nothing.
"Antonio, tell me the truth,"
A soft exhale. Followed by a flat, "Why would I know?"
"Because someone close to the man who attacked Rosalia wore their mark on his neck," I said quietly. "And they don't attack unless there’s a reason. Someone gave them a reason."
Once again there was silence. I could have sworn I felt the tension constricting over the line, responsibility hanging in the air.
Then Antonio answered, softer now. "This does not concern you, Rocco."
"The hell it doesn't," I shot back. "Your daughter was bleeding on our floor last night. So if there's some history you've got with these folks, you'd better tell us."
Rafael added, "Antonio, if there's something you're not telling us, now's the time.".
But the older man's tone hardened once more, his pride cutting through the doubt. "Leave it alone, Rafael. It's old business. It has nothing to do with the De Lucas."
And then he hung up.
The phone was dead.
The three of us stared at each other for a moment, the silence strained.
Riccardo finally let out a low whistle. "Well… that's not suspicious at all."
Rafael slammed the phone on his desk, clenching his jaw. "He's definitely hiding something."
"Of course he is," I said. "Sneaky bastard."
Rafael paced back and forth across the room, muttering curses. "Damn it. I knew his company had ties to some offshore accounts, but Valentis? That's suicide."
I frowned. "What could he have done to anger them that they're going after his daughter?"
"I don't know," Rafael replied, "but we're going to find out."
I nodded, staring at the phone still lying on the desk. "He'll call back. When the guilt bites him."
Rafael studied me. "And when he does?"
I smiled cynically. "Then we make the Valentis regret ever thinking they could pull us into his trouble. He will bear the consequences of his actions.”
But as I walked away from the room, something in my chest shifted, because if Antonio’s mistake had started this, then what it meant was that this was no longer his family problem.
It was ours too because Rosalia was a De Luca now and we protect our own.