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Luca
I'm sitting at my mahogany desk, my fingers steepled as I gaze out at the glittering city lights below. The Rolex on my wrist ticks steadily, each second echoing in the silence of my penthouse office.
The shrill ring of my cell phone cuts through the quiet. I glance at the caller ID. It's Enzo, my most trusted advisor. He wouldn't call at this hour unless it was urgent.
I answer with a curt "What is it?" My voice is gravel.
"Boss, I have some bad news." Enzo's normally stoic tone wavers. "It's about your brother Dante..."
My grip tightens on the phone, jaw clenching. "What about him?"
There's a heavy pause. "He's dead, Boss. Shot outside his home earlier tonight. I'm so sorry."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I suck in a sharp breath, a storm of emotions roiling within me—shock, grief, white-hot rage.
My brother, my blood, gone just like that. Snuffed out by some cowardly bastard.
"Any leads on who did this?" I growl, my free hand balling into a fist.
"Not yet. But there's something else you should know..." Enzo hesitates. "Dante's wife was also killed. Their son Matteo is alive. He's only five years old."
Matteo. My nephew, now an orphan. The full weight of it hits me. This innocent boy's entire world has just shattered. And as my brother's only living relative, his care now falls to me.
I lean back in my leather chair and close my eyes for a long moment, letting the news sink in. When I open them, they blaze with renewed purpose and determination.
"Enzo, I want a status report within the hour. Mobilize every resource. We're going to find the scum who did this and make them pay." My tone is lethal calm. "And have Matteo brought to the estate immediately. He's under my protection now."
"Yes, Boss. Consider it done."
I end the call and stand, moving to the wall of windows. I press my palm to the cool glass, looking out over my dark kingdom of steel and shadow.
Everything has changed in an instant. But one thing is certain.
I will keep Matteo safe, no matter the cost. And I will rain down unholy vengeance on those who tore our family apart. This I vow, on my brother's blood.
They have no idea the hell that's coming for them.
But then I realize with a start that I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child.
I pick up the phone and place a call.
The sharp rap of knuckles against wood jolts me from my vengeful musings. I slide my gun into its shoulder holster, schooling my features into an impenetrable mask.
"Enter."
Marco opens the door, revealing a curvaceous young woman clutching a bag, her wide eyes taking in the opulent surroundings. Chestnut curls frame a heart-shaped face—pretty, in a girl-next-door way. Innocence radiates from her like a beacon.
Innocence has no place in my world.
"Boss, this is Dana Johnson. The nanny agency sent her."
I rake her figure with an assessing gaze, noting the way she fidgets under my scrutiny. Nervous. Good. Fear is a useful tool.
"Ms. Johnson." I inject a thread of steel into my voice. "I trust you understand the gravity of this position. Discretion is non-negotiable."
