I can still smell her on my skin when I walk into my office three hours later.
Aria’s scent lingers on my skin—familiar, maddening. All I want is to turn back, drag her into bed, and lose myself in her until she forgets the war and remembers where she belongs—here, with me.
But I can’t. Not yet.
She let it slip in a moment of rage—that she was pregnant. She didn’t plan to tell me, convinced I’d never let them go if I knew.
I’m no fool. I won’t force her back into my home. I’ll make her walk in of her own free will. Which means, for now, I had to walk away.
But the taste of her surrender still burns on my cock, the memory of her body arching beneath mine a sweet torture that threatens my sanity. For those precious moments, the hatred melted away, and everything felt right.
She’s mine. She’ll always be mine, no matter what war she thinks she’s fighting.
I try to sift through the paperwork, my mind still on her when Nicolo interrupts.
“Boss? We need to talk.”
He looks grim. It’s never good news when Nicolo looks grim.
I gesture to the chair across from my desk, and he takes it. “The DeLuca situation is escalating faster than we anticipated.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I already know what he means.
“Your wife just declared war on us in the open. She’s not hiding anymore, Marco. She’s building an army, and every day you delay gives her more time to strengthen her position.”
I lean back in my chair, studying his face. Nicolo has been with me for eight years. He’s seen me through blood feuds and business deals, stood by my side through every brutal decision I’ve made without flinching. But now, for the first time, I see fear in his eyes.
“She won’t succeed,” I say.
“Won’t she?” He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something before sliding it across the desk. “She hit three more of our operations last night. While you were—” He stops himself just in time. “While you were otherwise occupied.”
The photos on his screen show the devastating aftermath of the strikes. My warehouses are reduced to smoking ruins, my men in body bags.
What Nicolo doesn’t know is that this is only the beginning. I know my wife. She’s no longer the whimpering, petrified woman I married. She’s grown into her own power, and for that, despite everything, I feel pride.
“Six more of our are now dead,” Nicolo sounds hollow. “She’s picking us apart piece by piece, and you’re letting her because you can’t see past your cock.”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved, my hand wrapped around his throat, slamming him back against the chair.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl, applying just enough pressure to make breathing difficult. “You forget who you’re talking to.”
His hands come up in surrender. Smart man. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “But Jesus, Marco, she’s going to destroy everything we’ve built. Everything your father built. And you’re letting her because you’re in love with her.”
I release him, stepping back as the truth of his words settles like lead in my stomach. He’s right. Every rational part of my brain knows he’s right.
But the irrational part—the part that’s well fucking damn proud of her, in love with her—refuses to listen.
“Have you forgotten she’s pregnant?” I hiss at Nicolo. “You suggest I cause her harm?”
“Not her,” Nicolo protests. “But—
Just then, the office door explodes open, cutting him off mid-sentence. My father reaches our side in volcanic rage. He clutches a newspaper in his hand, which he throws across my desk.
“Explain this,” he snarls, meeting my gaze with one of fury.
The headline screams up at me in bold black letters: DELUCA HEIRRESS EMERGES FROM SHADOWS TO RECLAIM FAMILY LEGACY.
Below it, a photograph that stops my heart. Aria, radiant in emerald silk, surrounded by men I recognize as the old guard—families that once bowed to her father’s rule. She looks every inch the queen she was born to be.
The article details her public emergence, her claim to the DeLuca throne, her promise to restore her family’s honor. Every word is a declaration of war against everything my father has built.
“Twenty-five years,” my father whispers, his voice deadly quiet. “Twenty-five years I believed that bloodline was extinct. That I had finally put an end to the DeLuca threat.” His eyes lock on mine, and I see madness flickering in their depths. “Did you know? When you married her. DID YOU KNOW?”
The question hangs in the air like a loaded gun. Nicolo shifts uncomfortably in his peripheral vision, but my focus remains fixed on my father’s face. On the rage building there like a storm ready to break.
“Yes,” I say simply.
He staggers back a step, his face cycling through disbelief, betrayal, and finally, murderous fury.
“You knew,” he breathes. “You knew who she was, and you married her anyway. You brought a DeLuca into my house. Into my family.”
“She’s my wife,” I say, my voice steady as I tell him the one truth I hope will make him see what matters. “And she’s carrying my child.”
If I thought he was angry before, the revelation about the pregnancy sends him over the edge. His face turns purple, veins bulging in his neck as spittle flies from his lips.
“A DeLuca heir!” he roars. “Growing in her womb! You’ve contaminated our bloodline with that poisonous legacy!”
For one terrifying moment, I see Aria in chains. And the child in her belly marked for death. The vision makes my blood run cold.
I’m moving before he finishes the sentence, my hand crushing his windpipe as I slam him against the wall. The newspaper flutters to the floor between us.
“Choose your next words very carefully,” I warn, my voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes hardened killers step back. “Because if you threaten my wife or my child again, father or not, I will end you.”
His eyes bulge, but I see no fear there. Only rage. Only the fanatical certainty of a man who has spent decades believing in his own righteousness.
I release him, stepping back as he gasps for air.
“Bring her in,” he orders, his voice hoarse but unbroken. “Tonight. I want Aria DeLuca in chains before dawn. She will answer for her crimes, and for your sake, I will let her live when she remembers she’s a Bianchi. I will break her till she gets this stupid little idea of power out of her mind. And then, she can return to you.”
“No.”
The word drops between us like a stone into still water, sending ripples of shock through the room. Nicolo inhales sharply, but I keep my eyes locked on my father’s face.
“What did you say?” he whispers.
“I said no.” I straighten to my full height. “She’s my wife. She’s under my protection. And I will kill anyone who tries to harm her.”
He spits on the floor. “She’s turned you against your own blood. Against everything I’ve taught you. Against everything we’ve built together.”
“You built this empire on the bones of her family,” I counter, my voice gaining strength with each word. “On the murder of innocents. Maybe it’s time for it to fall.”
The slap comes so fast I barely see it, his palm cracking against my cheek with enough force to snap my head sideways. But I don’t flinch. Don’t retaliate. I simply turn back to face him, tasting blood where my teeth cut into my inner cheek.
“You ungrateful bastard,” he snarls. “After everything I’ve given you, you choose that DeLuca whore over your own father.”
“I choose my family,” I say quietly. “My wife. My child. The future I want to build, not the past you’re obsessed with destroying.”
His hand moves to the gun at his hip, and for a moment, I think he might actually draw on me. His own son. But then his fingers still, and I see the calculation creeping back into his eyes.
“Break her,” he says finally, his voice cold as winter wind. “Break her before she breaks you. Before she destroys everything we’ve worked for. Or I will.”
He turns to leave, pausing at the door to deliver his final threat.
“Choose whether you stand with your family or against it. And let her show you who she is—a DeLuca or a Bianchi.”
The door slams behind him, leaving Nicolo and me alone in the sudden silence. I can feel my second-in-command’s eyes on me, waiting for some sign of what comes next.
But I already know.
I’ve made my choice. Not in this moment, but months ago when I first laid eyes on Aria in her wedding dress.
“Nicolo,” I say, my voice steady despite the earthquake happening inside me.
“Yes, boss?”
“Double the security around Aria. Do not bring her. Do not attack. Just make sure my father doesn’t get within her orbit.”
He nods, understanding immediately.
I walk to the window, staring out at the city where my wife wages war against everything I’ve ever known.
“My father made his choice twenty-five years ago when he ordered the DeLuca massacre,” I say. “Now I’m making mine.”
I won’t lose Aria. Not to my father’s madness. Not to her own thirst for vengeance.
Let her destroy me if she must—so long as she knows everything I did, I did for her. If she wants to burn me down, I’ll hand her the match… so she can see me standing in the ashes.
