Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

A re you sure she's okay, Renzo? Nico's voice breaks the tense silence among my brothers and I, his eyes locked on me with a mix of concern and skepticism. I follow his gaze to Mia, who sits curled up on the dark leather sofa in my office. Her slender frame is wrapped in a tight, defensive ball, knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sea below. Her oversized sweater and sweatpants make her seem smaller still. The room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of the fireplace, casting long, flickering shadows across the rich mahogany bookshelves and antique furniture. My office feels like a fortress—dark, imposing, with heavy drapes that shut out the world, likely adding to how small Mia looks, so vulnerable, swallowed by it all. But I know she is tougher than she appears. She just needs time.

"She's fine," I say, though I'm not sure I believe it myself. I am worried. I have dreamt of Mia since that first night in her dorm. I've fantasized about having her, both carnally and tasting her blood, but not once in any of that time did I imagine I might care about her. She is so much more than I bargained for. Tough, smart, ambitious. The perfect mate, except she's human. A human mate is always a bad idea, but I can't bring myself to see Mia that way, not now. She is my gattina, my kitten, and woe to anyone who dares to lay a hand on her.

I stare out the window and tried to hide the bemusement I feel. The truth is, I lost control with Angelo. I shouldn't have killed him in front of her, or at the very least, I shouldn't have fed on him so openly. I thought she understood when I told her I was a vampire, but clearly, the reality is much harder for her to swallow. I should be angry, but instead, I find myself troubled. Two weeks ago, I would've seen this as a perfect excuse to rid myself of my wife, but now the thought of Mia dead constricts my chest. My gattina has gotten under my skin—her fire, her intelligence, and God knows her presence in my bed. I can't afford to lose her now. It takes everything I have not to go over and wrap my arms around her. I want to comfort her, make her feel safe from the monsters, except I am the monster, and she doesn't want me near her.

Luca leans casually against my desk, his tailored navy suit hugging his athletic frame, his gaze sharp and calculating. "So, do you think Angelo tried to have you killed?" His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hard edge beneath it.

"It would make sense," I say, forcing a laugh that comes out bitter. "He was practically salivating to take my place in more ways than one. My body wasn't even cold."

"No." Mia's voice is sharp and firm, slicing through the room like a knife.

It's the first thing she's said since the incident, and all eyes turn to her. She looks up, her face pale but composed, her dark eyes piercing as they meet mine.

I prompt her, "What do you mean, Mia?"

She hesitates for a moment, then her gaze locks onto mine, unwavering. "Angelo was an opportunist. In his core, he was nothing more than a gossip who'd learned to turn information into currency. He only ever shared what he knew because he saw you rising to the top. He was ambitious, yes, but he wasn't strategic. Angelo couldn't think five moves ahead. He'd collect all the data, but he'd leave the decisions to you. At least that's how he operated with me since you've been dead." She snorts like she finds my death funny.

Her words are precise, calculated. I study her, absorbing every detail—her clenched hands, the subtle quiver in her voice. She's scared, but that hasn't killed the fire in her, a determination that's impossible to ignore. It fills me with pride and wonder. This is my wife. Mine. I want to take her upstairs right now and make her call out my name. I clear my throat and try to clear my head of the image of Mia, wet for me, shouting my name.

I think back to my relationship with Angelo; the way he always delivered what I needed without question. There was truth in what she said. Angelo never led; he followed, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

"You're right," I say. I want her to know I respect her opinion. "So, if you don't think it was Angelo, who do you suspect?" I ask, my voice lower, more serious. A curious sense of expectation settles on me. I want to know her thoughts because I now recognize their value.

Mia shrugs lightly, but there's tension in the movement. "I'm not sure. But it wasn't Angelo. He was only hoping to step into the void you left behind. Whoever's behind this took the time to plan. They framed you for Russo's murder, and when that failed to get you locked up permanently, they looked for another way to take you out. This is bigger than Angelo's ambitions."

Nico turns from the window, the low lamp light reflected in his cold green eyes. He leans against the glass, hands in the pockets of his light gray suit, and studies Mia like she's a puzzle he can't quite solve. "You think it's one of the capos? Someone on the inside?"

Mia nods, her expression tightening. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Someone wants Renzo gone, and they don't care how they do it."

Luca taps his fingers against the polished surface of my desk, his gaze flicking between us. "All right, let's go through the list," he says, straightening and ticking off names on his fingers. "Big Tony?"

I'm about to interject, but I realize Luca is speaking directly to Mia, watching her with a curious intensity. The way his eyes linger on her as if he's testing her resolve, irritates me. I clench my jaw and fight the urge to remind him who she belongs to. Luca smirks, sensing my unease, but he doesn't back down. My desire to pummel him is equal to my desire to take my wife upstairs and fuck her until she screams. I grind my teeth.

Mia unfolds herself from the sofa, her movements graceful but guarded. She takes a slow sip from the delicate China cup in her hands, the steam rising in soft tendrils around her face. "No, it's not Big Tony," she says confidently. "He's always wanted to be the leader; he thinks he's earned it. But Tony doesn't have the guts to go against everyone to take it. If he did, he'd already be in charge—my father would've caved to him long ago. Tony had his chance, and he didn't take it. And it's not Giuseppe, either. Both of them push back, but if Giuseppe wanted control, he would've made his move years ago as well. Besides, he wouldn't go against Tony; Giuseppe's smart, but he relies on Tony to keep the gears turning."

Luca nods thoughtfully, his gaze still fixed on her. "If it's not Big Tony or Giuseppe, then we're left with Colucci." He taps the next finger.

"It's not Colucci." Mia shakes her head as she sets the cup down on the coffee table with a quiet clink. "I've spoken to the cartel contacts. They're in the middle of finalizing a deal with Colucci and his people that will bring in a lot of money. He's all in on that; he doesn't have the bandwidth to take on anything else. This deal will set him up for life. He's not risking that."

I nod, impressed once again by her logic and by her insight. "I agree. Big Tony and Giuseppe wouldn't have done it, and Colucci's too busy pissing himself over this cartel deal. No way he's got the stones for anything else. Bobby Sticks isn't all that interested in being in charge. He's more into his whores and making money." I can't help but feel a swell of pride. Mia has shown more understanding of the inner workings of the family in two weeks than most men manage in a lifetime. My wife .

She is so much more than I ever imagined.

Nico moves to the bar and pours himself a glass of deep red wine. He raises the bottle, offering Mia some. I shoot her a warning look. It's early, and she knows I don't approve of her drinking. I'll have to deal with that later, and the thought sends blood pumping to my cock. She senses my displeasure, shrinking back slightly, but still accepts the glass when Nico hands it to her. I let it slide for now, but she'll pay for it later in the best way possible, with multiple orgasms. My blood quickens.

Nico settles into one of the plush guest chairs and takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving Mia. "So, who's left?" he asks.

"Lombardi," Mia says quietly, her tone thoughtful but laced with tension. "He's ambitious, smart, and has the potential to be a future don. He's younger than the others, and he's already made a move on me. He's thinking the same way Angelo was. With you gone, Renzo, he could take over by claiming me."

Hot, unyielding fury ignites in my chest. I thought Lombardi knew his place, but if he's been circling Mia, he's just signed his death warrant.

Luca leans back, considering her words. "Are you sure? I'm not convinced Lombardi's ready. He's got the ambition, sure, but he hasn't proven himself yet. The other capos are established; they've been in this game for years. Lombardi's new—he's still got a lot to prove."

"Well, that just leaves Luigi," Nico says, swirling his wine. "But with his wife's condition, I can't see him making a play for power."

Mia nods, her expression unreadable as she takes another sip of wine. "Luigi doesn't want to run the family. If he did, he also could've taken it from my father whenever he wanted, but he didn't."

I watch her closely, testing for any sign of weakness as we discuss her father. She remains steady, her eyes sharp, betraying nothing. "You're not wrong," I say, my voice calm and measured. "So, either we're missing something entirely, or we're wrong about one of the five."

Nico nods slowly. "Then we investigate all of them, top to bottom. I'll get my people on it. But Renzo, are you staying dead or coming back to life?"

I've been weighing that decision since this all started, and Mia's performance at the meeting has only solidified my choice. "For now, I stay dead. Mia did well—better than I anticipated. You impressed me, and that's not easy to do," I say to her. "I'll let you play the head while I move in the shadows. I can get more done that way. But," I say to my brothers, "I want security on Mia at all times—no one gets near her. One of us needs to be with her 24/7."

As I say it, I realize I don't mean one of us—I mean me. No one else. Mia isn't going anywhere without me by her side. I won't have my brothers or any other man near her. I have to know she's safe at all times. I will not tolerate anyone hurting my woman.

Nico and Luca exchange glances, their expressions thoughtful but guarded. They know me well enough to recognize when a decision has been made, and I can see the wheels turning in their heads as they silently process the implications. Luca straightens from the desk, adjusting his cuffs with a casual flick of his wrist, but there's a stiffness in his movements, a tension that wasn't there before. Nico finishes his wine, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink that seems to echo in the stillness of the room.

"Keep us updated," Nico says, his voice calm but carrying the underlying weight of expectation. He pulls his coat tighter around him, eyes flicking briefly to Mia before turning back to me. Do you think you can trust her to keep our secret?

She doesn't have a choice. She wants to live, and she's witnessed first-hand what happens when someone crosses me. I don't think she'll soon forget it. At least, I hope she won't. I don't like to think what would happen if she betrayed me.

Nico says, "We'll keep looking into the capos. You focus on staying in the shadows, Renzo. It's safer for all of us if they think you're still dead."

I nod, my mind already shifting gears, but my attention keeps drifting back to Mia, sitting quietly on the sofa, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her wine glass. She's trying to seem composed, but the tremble in her hands is visible and her eyes dart to the door as if she's contemplating an escape route. Luca hesitates at the entry for a moment, his gaze lingering on Mia a beat too long, and I have to fight the urge to throw him out myself.

"Be careful, Mia," Luca says, his tone almost teasing but edged with something darker. It's a threat, and I don't like my brother threatening my wife, but I need her to realize just what her situation is. There will be no turning to anyone else for help. I let Luca leave without reprimand, but he knows I'm not happy.

Mia doesn't respond to Luca, but I see the flicker of unease cross her face. Nico follows Luca out, closing the heavy wooden door behind them with a dull thud. The sound feels final, like a seal being set on whatever comes next.

I turn to Mia, letting the silence stretch out between us, thick and oppressive.

The room feels even darker now, the fire's light casting twisted shadows along the walls. I slowly walk toward the window, watching the moonlight spill over the sea below. The vast expanse of ocean has always made me feel at home but right now, it feels distant, irrelevant. My focus is solely on Mia and the way she's watching me, like I'm a beast that's just stepped out of the shadows. She is not wrong, but it doesn't stop the longing in my chest. My arms still ache to hold her and soothe away her fears.

"Do you know why I had to kill Angelo?" I ask, my voice low, almost conversational, but there's an undercurrent of menace in every word. I don't look at her yet, letting her stew in her thoughts.

Mia's silence hangs between us, her fear palpable. Finally, she forces herself to speak, her voice small and shaky. "I don't understand any of this, Renzo. I—I thought it was a joke when you said you were a vampire. Some sort of magic trick that allowed you to look like you have fangs and can survive being shot, but seeing you… seeing you do that—" Her words falter, and she bites her lip, trying to steady herself.

I lean against the window frame with a casualness that belies the tension simmering beneath my skin. I see in the mirror across from me the moonlight catching on the sharp lines of my face, casting half of it in shadow.

"You think you know what I am now, Mia?" I say softly, stepping closer. Each step is deliberate and predatory, and I watch as she shrinks back further into the couch. "You think you know what kind of monster you married now that you've seen me kill Angelo?"

Her eyes widen, and I recognize the raw, unguarded fear in them. She's seen a glimpse of what I am, but she hasn't even scratched the surface. I can smell her fear, sharp and intoxicating, mingling with the faint scent of her perfume. It's a heady mix, one that stirs something sinister and primal inside me.

"You told me you were a vampire," she whispers, her voice trembling. "But it's not like in the movies. You go out in the daylight. You don't?—"

I cut her off with a harsh laugh, my smile twisted and humorless. "You think you understand the rules, huh? That you can put me in some little box and feel safe because you've got it all figured out?" I crouch down in front of her, close enough that my face alone fills her vision. "I'm not a story, Mia. I'm not some tragic hero with a tortured soul and a weakness for love. I'm a fucking monster, and I will do whatever it takes to keep what's mine."

Mia's breath hitches, her eyes darting to the door, but there's no escape. Not here. Not now. She's trapped in this room with me, and every inch of her knows it. I can hear her heartbeat, rapid and erratic, and it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard.

"I fed on Angelo because he crossed a line," I continue, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He was a traitor, and he thought he could take what belongs to me. And I made an example of him, just like I'll make an example of anyone who tries to touch what's mine." I reach out, my fingers brushing her cheek, and she flinches, but she doesn't pull away. There's a defiance in her eyes, but it's fading, overwhelmed by fear.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You think I'm going to run? You think I'm going to betray you?"

I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. The touch is rough, and I see the flash of pain in her eyes, but she doesn't fight me. "I'm telling you this because you need to understand, gattina. You don't get to be afraid of me. You don't get to run from me. You don't get to hide from what I am." I lean closer, my breath hot against her ear. "You belong to me, which means you're part of this. There's no going back. Not now. Not ever. You are mine, gattina."

Her trembling increases, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She's trying to hold it together, but I see the cracks. I see the fear that she's trying so desperately to hide, and it thrills me. She's not some meek, obedient wife; she's fire and fury, and right now, she's terrified of what I might do.

"I hate you," she says suddenly, the words spat out with all the venom she can muster. Tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them back, refusing to let them fall. "I hate what you are. I hate that I'm trapped here with you."

I smile, slow and menacing. "Ah, la mia tigre , do you really hate me?" I ask as I run my finger down over her breast. Her nipple pebbles under my touch. She licks her lips. I chuckle. "Good," I say, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Hate me. Fear me. But you'll never leave me. You can't. You're mine, Mia, and you'll never be free of me." I tighten my grip just enough to make my point, and her breath hitches in her throat. The tears are closer now, threatening to spill, but she's holding on by sheer willpower. I want to relent but if I do, she'll think there may be a chance that she can manipulate me, that she can get away. She must never know that I care about her. It's my weakness.

"Please," she whispers, her voice cracking. "Renzo, I?—"

I pull back, releasing her abruptly, and she falls deeper into the sofa cushions. I stand, towering over her, and I can see the mix of anger and fear swirling in her eyes. She's trapped between wanting to fight back and knowing she can't win, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Understand this, Mia," I say, my tone softening just slightly. "There's a part of me that's always hungry, always hunting. I keep it under control most of the time, but when I'm crossed, when someone threatens what's mine… I don't hold back." I pace slowly around her, like a predator circling its prey. "I'm a monster, yes. But I'm your monster. And that means I'll protect you, even from yourself. "

She stares at me, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, and I feel a flicker of something that almost resembles pity. But I stamp it out because there's no room for softness here. She needs to see me for what I am. She needs to fear me because fear is the only thing that will keep her safe.

I reach out, gently this time, and cup her cheek. She leans into the touch, but it's not comfort she's seeking—it's survival.

"I don't want to be afraid of you," she admits, her voice breaking. "But I am."

I lean in, brushing my lips against her forehead in a mockery of tenderness. "Good," I whisper. "Fear keeps you sharp. Fear keeps you alive. But never forget, Mia…you're mine. And I protect what's mine with everything I am."

She doesn't say anything, but the look in her eyes tells me enough. She's scared. She's angry. But she's still here, and that's all that matters. I pull away, leaving her sitting on the sofa, her breath hitching as she fights to keep herself together.

I turn back to the window, staring out into the darkness, the sea stretching endlessly beneath the night sky. It's quiet, the kind of quiet that comes before a storm, and I can feel it brewing between us—dangerous, electric, and inevitable.

"You and me, Mia," I say, my voice barely more than a murmur. "We're just getting started."