POV: Isla Moretti
Luca DeLuca was a problem.
Not just because he was dangerous. Not just because he was impossible to read.
But because he had just tied me to him in a way I hadn't anticipated.
I should've been smarter. I should've seen this coming. But instead of killing me or letting me go, Luca had made sure I had no choice but to stay.
"Tomorrow, we start working together."
His words echoed in my mind as I paced the room.
Working with Luca? No. That wasn't an option. That was a death sentence in slow motion.
The people who had hired me—whoever they were—would see this as a betrayal. If I didn't deliver the ledger, they'd come after me. But Luca had it now, and there was no chance he'd let it out of his sight.
I was trapped between two devils, and I wasn't sure which one was worse.
A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned as Matteo stepped inside, carrying a neatly folded set of clothes in one hand and a tray of food in the other.
"Boss says you need something to wear," he said, setting the tray down on the desk. "Figured you might be hungry, too."
I glanced at the food—a steaming plate of pasta, a slice of bread, and a glass of water.
Matteo caught my hesitation and smirked. "Relax, sweetheart. It's not poisoned."
"Forgive me if I don't take a mafia enforcer's word for it," I said dryly.
He chuckled, dropping the clothes on the bed. "Suit yourself. But trust me, if Luca wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing here debating dinner."
He wasn't wrong. And that was the real problem.
I stayed silent as he leaned against the doorframe, watching me.
"What?" I asked.
Matteo shrugged. "Just trying to figure you out."
"Good luck with that."
He grinned. "Oh, I like you, Moretti. You've got fight in you."
I ignored him and picked up the clothes he'd brought—black leggings and a simple long-sleeved shirt. Comfortable, practical, but nothing that screamed prisoner.
"They fit?" Matteo asked.
I nodded.
"Good." He turned toward the door. "Boss wants you downstairs in an hour. Don't make him wait."
The door shut behind him, and I let out a slow breath.
I wasn't sure what Luca had planned, but one thing was clear—I was in deep, and the only way out was to play along.
For now.
The First Test
An hour later, I found myself in one of Luca's sleek black cars, Matteo driving while Luca sat beside me in the back seat.
The tension was palpable.
Luca had barely spoken since I came downstairs. He simply gestured for me to follow, leading me outside where the car was already waiting.
Now, as the city lights blurred past us, I finally broke the silence.
"Where are we going?"
Luca didn't look at me. "A meeting."
I frowned. "What kind of meeting?"
Luca finally turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine.
"The kind that determines whether you live to see tomorrow."
Cold fear curled in my stomach, but I didn't let it show. I held his gaze, refusing to flinch.
"You made a deal," I reminded him. "Killing me would be bad for business."
Luca smirked. "That depends on how well you perform tonight."
Perform?
I didn't like the sound of that.
We drove in silence for another fifteen minutes before the car finally slowed. I looked out the window and took in our surroundings—an abandoned warehouse, the kind that reeked of backroom deals and bodies never found.
Matteo parked, and Luca was the first to step out. I hesitated for half a second before following.
The cold night air sent a shiver down my spine as we approached the warehouse doors. Two guards stood outside, their hands resting on the guns at their waists.
One of them nodded at Luca before opening the door.
Inside, a group of men waited. Three of them. Older, sharp-eyed, radiating authority.
I knew immediately they were important.
Luca walked in without hesitation, his presence commanding the room without a single word.
I followed, keeping my expression neutral. Observing. Calculating.
One of the men, a broad-shouldered figure with graying hair and a scar running down his cheek, leaned back in his chair.
"So," he said, eyes flicking to me. "This is the girl."
Luca nodded. "Isla Moretti."
I didn't like how they were looking at me—like I was a product being inspected before purchase.
The scarred man tilted his head. "You have guts, I'll give you that. Stealing from the DeLuca family? Not many live to tell the tale."
I forced a smile. "Guess I'm lucky."
The man chuckled. "Or maybe Luca sees something useful in you."
His gaze shifted back to Luca. "You're sure about this?"
Luca's expression was unreadable. "I don't make mistakes."
The tension in the room thickened.
Scarface nodded. "Then let's see if she's as good as you say."
He pulled a phone from his pocket and slid it across the table toward me.
I stared at it, not reaching for it yet. "What's this?"
"A test."
Luca finally spoke. "They need proof that you can be trusted."
My blood ran cold.
This wasn't a simple job.
This was loyalty or death.
I slowly reached for the phone, flipping it over. The screen was already on, displaying a name and number.
One I recognized.
My stomach dropped.
"Call them," Scarface said. "Set up a meeting. Lure them in."
I swallowed hard. They wanted me to betray my employer.
The anonymous client who had hired me to steal from Luca—whoever they were—had deep pockets and powerful connections. If I made this call, I'd be burning my last bridge.
But if I didn't…
I glanced at Luca, but his expression didn't give anything away.
My hand tightened around the phone.
I had one option.
Survive.
Slowly, I dialed the number.
It rang once. Twice.
Then a voice answered.
I forced my tone to stay casual. "It's me."
A pause.
Then—"I was wondering when you'd call."
I swallowed. "I have something for you."
Another pause.
Then—"Where?"
Scarface slid a piece of paper toward me. A location.
I read it aloud.
Silence.
Then the voice said, "Time?"
Scarface held up three fingers.
"Three hours," I said.
Another pause.
Then, finally—
"I'll be there."
The call disconnected.
I set the phone down, my hands steady even though my heart wasn't.