Chapter 30 Fiorella
The house became colder the moment Rocco left.
I sat in the vacant spot he had just vacated, my fingers drawing a light design on the arm of the chair. The smell of steak and hot pasta still lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle smell of his cologne, dark, rich, something that had started to become familiar.
I didn't know what annoyed me more, that he had shown up unexpectedly with food or that I hadn't cared.
I should have.
I should have questioned him as to why he thought I was in need of him here, why he thought I wasn't coping well enough by myself. But I hadn't. Because the truth was, for the first time in days, I'd eaten food that wasn't grabbed off a tray while running between appointments or drowned in a glass of whiskey.
And more than that, I'd enjoyed having him there.
That was dangerous.
Rocco De Luca was dangerous.
Not due to his name, his standing, or the way he strode with ease over everyone. But because he looked beyond me.
He hadn't come here out of obligation. He hadn't done it out of duty, or affiliation, or for my dad, or because he felt he had to. He'd done it because he wanted to.
And I liked that more than I should have.
Exhaling sharply, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face.
This was temporary. A necessity. Nothing more.
I couldn't afford to get used to him.
I couldn't afford to drop my guard.
And yet, I had.
A little.
The ring of my phone on the coffee table shook me out of my trance.
I picked it up, my brows furrowing as I gazed at the screen.
Unknown Number.
A message.
I prodded it open, my stomach tightened as I read the words:
We must meet. Now. Marchesi
A cold, bitter shiver ran down my chest.
Of course, they would call now.
Of course, they would think they were in charge.
I glared at the message for a moment longer before locking my phone and setting it aside, my mind already running through the possibilities.
Whatever they wanted, it wasn't good.
And I was going to find out just how bad it was.
I stared at the message a long time, fingers tightening phone.
I could tell Rocco.
It would be sensible to do. He was already invested, whether he liked it or not. The De Lucases had made their position clear that they were not going to back down from this war, and Rocco, he was not the sort of man to let things sort themselves out.
This, however, wasn't his.
This was my battle.
The Marchesi had fired shots at my father, had ambushed and attacked us severally and now they wanted to negotiate? No. They did not get to call the shots.
I breathed deeply, pressing my thumb on my screen as I typed out a response.
Where?
The reply came quickly.
Old shipyard. Come alone.
Of course.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, guessing how much time I had before they started getting agitated.
I needed backup, but not the kind that trailed me in.
I scrolled through my phone until I reached the one I needed. Leo. My father's second-in-command, the man who had remained beside him as long as I could remember.
I clicked call.
"Fiorella." His voice was sharp, tinged with concern.
"I need you to put men near the old shipyard," I stated without greeting. "Snipers. Good ones."
A beat of silence. And then, "Who are we waiting for?"
"The Marchesi."
A curse under his breath. "Does your father know?"
"He will." "They wish to meet. In private."
Leo whistled in surprise. "And yet you're calling for snipers."
"I'm not foolish."
"No, but you are reckless." A pause. "I'll take care of it."
"I'll send you the precise coordinates when I arrive."
"Fiorella..."
I hung up before he could object.
My heart was calm as I reached for my gun, checked that the magazine was full, and jammed it into my waistband. I took a knife, too, and slid it into the thigh sheath before I put on my coat.
I didn't need an army.
I just needed to remind the Marchesi who they were messing with.
The drive to the shipyard was somber, city lights fading from sight as I made my way to the abandoned docks. The smell of rust and salt filled the air, the far-off creak of metal breaking the silence.
Leo's men were positioned. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there. Watching. Waiting.
I stopped the car and stepped out, rearranging the coat slung across my shoulders. My heels struck against the concrete as I approached the dark clearing where two men stood.
Only two.
I recognised one immediately, Enzo Marchesi, the older of the two.
His brother Elio was nowhere to be seen.
Interesting.
"You arrived alone." The voice of Elio was smooth, almost laughing, as if he thought this was funny.
I rested my head, eyes on the blackness behind him. "So did you."
He smiled. "No. I didn't."
The atmosphere shifted.
A presence.
I didn't turn. I didn't show a single sign that I'd noticed.
But I had.
And then a shot.
Enzo Marchesi had the audacity to smile.
The sound of the gunshot still ringing in my ears, he just stood there in front of me like nothing was amiss. Like he wasn't bothered by the fact that I walked into this meeting prepared to negotiate and was instead faced with a blatant warning shot from his men.
Or maybe he thought I was the one being warned.
He exhaled slowly, his smirk expanding as he rocked back onto his heels. "Tell me, Fiorella." He added a theatrical flourish. "Is your father still living?"
My hands cramped at my sides. The reason I didn't go for my gun was because I wanted to see if he'd deliver whatever pitiful speech he thought would shake me.
His dark eyes glowed as he took one halting step closer, lowering his voice just sufficiently to render it intimate. "You have to know it's a matter of time. He's getting weaker. Breaking down. And when he dies…" His smirk increased further. "The Marchesi family will inherit everything."
I kept my face's expression blank, though my blood seethed.
"Your father's kingdom," he continued, waving his hand carelessly. "His domain. His power. His soldiers—what remains of them, at least. It will all be ours. And what will you do, Fiorella? Seek refuge with the De Lucas?"
I looked into his eyes, my heart pounding despite the rage burning in my chest.
Then, as if he wasn’t finished with his delusions, he let out a chuckle. “You can’t even continue the lineage. You’re just a girl.”
I smiled, slow and sharp, my nails digging into my palms. “You should have stopped talking five sentences ago, Enzo.”
But he wasn’t finished.
His gaze raked over me, assessing. Calculating. Then, with the kind of arrogance only a Marchesi could summon, he took another step closer.
"You know…" He drew out the words, like he thought I was hearing. "Maybe we should rethink this war. If we get married, everything stays in the same interest, don't you think?"
I didn't move. Didn't even blink.
But something inside of me snapped.
I closed the distance between us so fast his smirk faltered. Moving in, I exhaled, "You think I'd let some coward like you touch me?"
He laughed, low and mocking. "You wouldn't have a choice, bambola."
The moment the nickname left his mouth, the last second of control I had vanished.
A single shot rang out.
Not mine.
From my sniper.
The bullet tore through Enzo's shoulder, sending him stumbling backward with a strangled curse. His men flinched, reaching for their guns, but my men were already in place.
Elio,his ever-loyal brother, was nowhere to be seen.
Enzo clutched his shoulder, blood seeping through his jacket, his cocky face twisting into something evil.
I stepped closer, my voice stopping. "When I'm done with your family, nothing will be left of you."
He gasped, trying to conceal the pain, but I saw it in his eyes. He finally understood.
This was not a battle he could win.
This was the beginning of his family's ruin.
Enzo's breathing was ragged, blood seeping through his coat as he clutched at his battered shoulder, his face twisted in pain. But the swagger in his eyes hadn't died. He still thought he had time. That he could crawl out of this, sort himself out, and attack again.
He didn't.
I didn't flinch as I gave a small tilt of my head.
A single shot rang out in the air.
Not his shoulder, this time.
The bullet cracked his skull, middle of his face, and his body hit the ground dead before it even touched the concrete.
His men reacted a second too late.
My sniper had already prepared them.
Three bullets. Three men dropped before they could even raise their guns.
A fourth man spun toward me, desperate, but before he could raise his gun, I pulled my own from its holster and discharged it. The bullet tore through his throat, his body convulsing as he collapsed beside his dead boss.
The air was thick with gunpowder and death.
The only sound was the bead of blood gathering beneath them.
I took slow steps forward, gazing down at Enzo's vacant, sightless eyes.
"Pathetic," I growled, kicking his body before moving around him.
Leo entered the light, gun still held upwards, clearing the area before giving me a curt nod. "All clear. Sniper's on perimeter."
I breathed in deeply, putting my gun back in its holster.
Enzo Marchesi was dead.
One down. One to go.
And Elio would shortly discover that he was next.