Chapter 14

CHIARA

M y phone rang, shattering the silence.

I knifed up in bed, groggy, pushing my hair from my eyes.

My hands fumbled as I picked the device up, the hospital’s number flashing on the display.

I jolted, sliding the screen to take the call, noting the time.

6 a.m.

Nobody called at this time with good news.

I already had a foreboding even before they even spoke.

‘Miss Tirone, your father has passed.’

The smartphone slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a dull thud, the ominous words articulated still echoing in my mind.

My throat tightened, and a wave of panic surged through me, wild and uncontrollable.

Olivio Tirone was dead.

Gone.

For all his sins, his DNA still existed in me, and losing the last of my parents was jarring.

It was like I was falling, with no one to catch me.

Also, without his protection, I was about to be fed to the wolves.

I gasped, struggling for air, my chest heaving as I tried to fight the terror clawing at me from the inside.

Then, a flicker of realization—a tendril, a thought—cut through the haze.

Rio.

He was close by—the only person I could run to, the only soul steady enough to keep me from falling apart.

Seconds later, I was already moving, bolting out of my room, my heart pounding so hard I perceived nothing else in my ears.

Dawn’s light poured in through the windows.

Still, the hallway was a blur as I raced across the house, impervious to it.

I just needed to get to him.

I lurched into the garden and crossed the lawn to the guest quarters.

When I reached his door, my hand shook as I knocked—no, I pounded—on the wood, frantic.

I smacked the surface so hard the slaps and hits stung, but it didn’t matter.

Agonizing moments passed before the door finally opened.

Rio.

Solid, calm.

In sweats, feet bare, hair ruffled, fresh from bed.

Handsome as fuck, his ink rippling over his skin, more evident in the vest he wore.

His presence hit me like a wall, and I was drowning again.

His face tightened as he raked his gaze over me—at my tear-streaked face, the wild panic in my eyes—but he didn’t ask.

He didn’t have to.

‘ Permesso ?’ I whispered.

‘ Avanti ,’ he rasped, his voice gravelly and husky, stepping aside and letting me in.

His chest rumbled in a low, steady hum, a lifeline cutting through the chaos.

I stumbled inside, scarcely holding it together, barely able to inhale.

His spice and musk cologne wafted in the room, and I sighed as my soul sought relief.

I was hyperventilating, and he took note of it and stopped me in my tracks.

With a push to my spine, he bent me over my knees.

‘Breathe,’ he growled.

I did as commanded, my eyes following as he moved with purpose. He crossed the room to the drinks cabinet and poured a tot of golden liquid into a crystal tumbler.

‘Here,’ he ordered, pressing the glass into my trembling hands. ‘Drink.’

The tumbler weighed heavy, foreign in my fingers, but I obeyed, bringing it to my lips.

The whiskey burned down my throat, sharp and biting.

For a brief instant, it dulled the screaming inside my head.

But only for a moment.

I lifted my head and canted my eyes to the ceiling.

‘Olivio is dead,’ I whispered, the words struggling to leave my mouth like saying them out loud would make them too real.

Too final.

Rio didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he came nearer, caging me in with his body. Hands on my hips, he crossed the room with me in his grasp, taking slow, deliberate steps.

I followed, confused.

Still, he stayed on me until he had me against the kitchen countertop.

I stared at him, blinking as his heat drew closer, scorching me even as his arms went on either side of me.

‘Let go, Chiara,’ he growled.

I clutched the tumbler in my hand tighter, unwilling to obey.

‘Fuckin’ let go, woman,’ he snarled.

One of his hands slid the glass from my clasp, setting it on the counter.

His upper limbs wrapped around me, pulling me close, and I shattered.

The sobs came, wracking my body, shaking me to my core.

I pressed my face into his chest, clutching at him like he was the only entity tethering me to the world.

The only element keeping me from breaking into a million pieces.

His hand thrust into my hair, massaging my scalp.

‘I’ve got you,’ he murmured against my ear, his rumble soft but resolute.

He didn’t tell me to stop crying. He didn’t ask me to pull it together.

He. Just. Held. Me.

His arms were solid and steady, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. ‘I have you.’

I cried until the tears dried up, and all remaining was exhaustion and the deep, hollow ache of loss.

I pulled back, wiping my face, but the shudders came in small, uncontrollable bursts.

‘I have to go to the hospital,’ I muttered, my voice shaking. ‘I have to identify his body. Talk to the coroner. Do all of it.’

Rio didn’t hesitate. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘OK,’ I whispered, trembling against him.

He stepped away, took my hand, and led me out of his quarters.

We crossed the dew-soaked backyard barefoot, our footsteps leaving trails in the grass.

Into my house, up the stairs, and into my room.

He kept powering to my bathroom.

‘Shower, hair, dress, leonessa . Meet me downstairs in twenty.’

He’d no give in his voice.

‘Hear?’ he demanded.

I nodded.

After another close, hard hug, his presence left me.

I stood, lost, blinking in the soft light before moving to do as he commanded.

Thirty minutes later, we were on the road. I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the slowly waking streets as we drove to the hospital.

The world outside appeared disconnected and distant like it wasn’t even real.

My hands twisted in my lap, restless, but with Rio by my side, a strange calm came over me.

As if his existence alone was keeping me from unraveling.

The hospital was cold and sterile, and the fluorescent lights were too harsh as we walked through the halls.

When they showed me my father’s body, laid out on the table, it didn’t even appear like him. The man I was familiar with, who had been larger than life, was gone. All that remained was a frail, empty shell.

I stared down at him, feeling nothing and everything all at once.

On one side of me stood Rio. On the other was Signore Messini, our family’s lawyer. He’d also received a call from the hospital directly from someone senior, pointing to some prior arrangement.

Signore Messini was speaking with the medical team about the passing and his final moments, but the phrases were like sounds underwater, warbled, unintelligible.

They didn’t make a difference.

Rio stood beside me, silent.

He didn’t touch me, didn’t say anything unnecessary.

He was present, keeping me from drowning in the surreal nightmare.

‘Signora Tirone,’ Signore Messini whispered. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘About what?’

‘The murder, Signora. Your father was killed. You’re now his heir, and how we handle it is your decision.’

I huffed. ‘The man had one thousand and one targets on his back. We’ll never find his killer.’

‘Then I suggest we keep the fact quiet,’ Signora Messini said. ‘The fact is, the hospital can’t seem to locate any footage or have any records of anyone entering his room at the time of death. It’s like a ghost went in and out. There’s also no trace of a gun or bullet casing. We have nothing to work with. The head of the hospital can be persuaded to make it all go away, as can the police chief; he’s a friend of my firm.’

‘And Olivio Tirone’s death works in his favor,’ I murmured, surprising myself with my cold-hearted conclusion. ‘One more criminal off the streets.’

‘Indeed,’ Signora Messini nodded.

‘I also don’t want Claudio starting a gang war to track down the killer. It’ll be a useless exercise, cost money and time, and put us all in more fuckin’ danger.’

‘Your call, signora.’

‘I’ve made it,’ I stated, straightening my back. ‘Make it all go away, have an open casket, but make up that covers up the entry wound. Don’t let my brothers anywhere near his body, not that I think they’ll care to view it. Please close all loops with the hospital and police.’

I stared at the lawyer as he nodded imperceptibly, understanding my orders.

I shook as I took one more glance at Olivio, lying cold, dead, tiny on the mortuary table, then spun on my heel and left, with Rio in my wake.

The drive back was quieter.

I had no words at first.

The numbness was settling in, making everything, all senses, all sounds, feel distant.

‘I thought I’d be more upset,’ I muttered, breaking the silence.

My voice sounded strange, detached, even to my ears. ‘About him. About my father. I’m not.’

Rio glanced over at me, his face as unreadable as ever, but his eyes flickered with something—understanding, maybe. ‘You don’t have to be,’ he rasped.

I shook my head, trying to work it out. ‘No, I mean, I thought it would break me. I thought it would crush me, losing him. But I’m not broken.’ I paused, looking over at him, meeting his eyes. ‘I think it’s because I understand the code. He destroyed many lives. Perhaps this was a hit from someone who wanted closure. He also destroyed my - .’

I stopped myself before confessing.

Rio glanced at me and didn’t say anything at first.

He kept driving, his hands gripping the wheel, his jaw tight.

But after a moment, his voice cut through the silence again. ‘I understand you more than you’ll ever know, belleza .’

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I believed it.

VALERIO

‘Bitch! Open this fuckin’ door!’

The roar shattered the quiet. It came from the front door of Chiara’s house.

She jolted, eyes flying to my face.

‘Who the hell is that?’ I muttered, sitting up, my senses on high alert.

Chiara sighed. ‘Claudio.’

Her brother.

The one who never bothered to show up unless there was something in it for him.

I’d read enough in my brief intel to know that he wasn’t the grieving type.

She sat beside me on the couch, her laptop perched on her knees.

She’d been scrolling through an endless list of funeral arrangements.

Her face was pale and tight with exhaustion, but she kept going, determined to tick off every detail.

I sensed she was barely holding it together.

I’d settled beside her for a few hours, watching her fingers move fast over the keys.

On occasion, I glanced at her face to see the flash of raw pain in her eyes and winced with guilt.

When we returned home, I’d put her to bed, where she’d fitfully napped.

At her insistence, I’d stayed in her house, catching a short nap on her couch.

She’d awakened me with a cup of coffee and red, strained eyes.

Not speaking about her grief or loss.

I wasn’t going to bring it up until she did.

So I kept my mouth fuckin’ shut, even now.

This wasn’t my world. I was here to keep her safe, not meddle in her family affairs.

Even though I was the cause of the recent upheaval.

But hell, if I wasn’t starting to care more than I intended.

We heard loud, aggressive shouting, followed by banging on the front door.

Chiara flinched, her hands freezing on the keyboard.

She stood up, closing the laptop as she crossed the room.

I followed her to the door, keeping a few paces behind. Trust wasn’t in my nature, and I didn’t like the sound of his hammering on the door.

Claudio, not even bothering with a greeting, launched into a verbal tirade.

‘Why didn’t you call me first? What the fuck, Chiara! I had to hear about Dad from the lawyer, not my sister!’

His voice was booming and saturated with self-righteous anger. How he glared at her made my blood boil.

Chiara raised her hands, striving to calm him. ‘Claudio, I called you, but you didn’t pick up as usual. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t leave a message. I was in shock—’

‘Bullshit! You’re always full of excuses!’

‘Hey -!’

He cut her off, his hiss dripping with venom. ‘You’re always trying to make me look like the asshole. This is our father, and you couldn’t even—’

I stepped forward to her side, letting him see me for the first time.

He reared his head, and his eyes flicked to me, narrowing in suspicion.

I had zero concern about him recognizing me.

I’d kept a very low profile in recent years, and most of my adult life had been spent either in London, New York, or Rome.

I lived on an intermittent basis in Naples since my parents’ death, and any online mentions of the Calibrese brothers had long been scrubbed and deleted.

Only Lorenzo, our eldest brother, had a public persona as the face of the family.

The rest of us were shadows in the night.

Both Olivio and I stared each other down, sizing the other up. It took him two seconds to decide he didn’t like me.

I didn’t like him either.

Though not unattractive, his features appeared hardened by years of sneers and scowls.

A furrowed brow made him look older than he was, and something was calculating, almost predatory, in the way he smiled—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

His voice was sharp, clipped, and full of venom when he didn’t get his way.

I figured he wielded words like weapons, throwing insults and accusations like daggers, but underneath it all lay an unmistakable desperation—a need to prove himself, to feel important.

The only part of him that resembled his sister was his tawny eyes, and I nailed his heated fury with my pale blue ice.

I tagged the flash of fear that arced over his face.

‘Who the fuck is this?’ he demanded, his tone even more aggressive as his ego fought to avoid bruising.

Chiara hesitated, caught off guard.

She opened her mouth to explain.

Before she said a word, I took a step closer to her, putting a hand on her waist and pulling her tight to me.

Leaning down, I kissed her head, lingering long enough to make it convincing.

‘I’m her fiancé,’ I said, letting the words hang.

Claudio’s eyes flickered with doubt, but he didn’t back down. ‘Since when? I don’t buy it.’

Chiara shot me a grateful look, then turned back to her brother. ‘Since two months ago. You don’t visit, you don’t care about my life, so how would you have been informed I had a man?’

‘ Fotto ! You might have told me,’ Claudio groused.

‘I chose not to.’

‘Like you did with father,’ he snarled. ‘Does Aldo even know?’

‘Claudio, let’s not do this right now, and yes, Aldo picked up his call. He’s in Milan and driving back as we speak. Come in.’

With apparent reluctance, Claudio stepped inside her house.

The tension between us was thick, but I maintained my arm around Chiara, ensuring the message was clear: if he were to bully her, he’d have to go through me.

Chiara guided him to the living room, her shoulders tense, but she kept her composure as she pulled up the funeral preparation list on her laptop. ‘I’ve been working through the arrangements, but if you have any input, we can discuss—’

‘I don’t give a shit about the burial,’ Claudio cut in, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I want to know about the accounts. The money. What about the will?’

My jaw clenched. Of course, that’s what he desired.

No grief, no sadness—just greed. It was sickening.

Chiara’s face tightened. ‘I don’t know, Claudio. I haven’t looked into the accounts yet. The lawyers are handling everything.’

Claudio sneered, leaning forward, attempting to bully her into getting what he wanted. ‘Don’t give me that crap. You know something. What about the art funds? You sent the first fifty percent, but where’s the rest? You need to send it now.’

Chiara held her ground, though I saw her hands trembling. Not with fear but with unadulterated rage

‘I can’t move faster than the agreed terms,’ she scowled. ‘I’ve already done my part. They’ll get the money when it’s time. Now, if you’ve nothing else left to say except insults and empty threats, get the hell out of my house.’

Claudio was seething, his fists clenching as if debating taking a swing, but I stepped closer enough to remind him I was present and fucking dangerous.

His eyes flicked between me and Chiara before he finally huffed in frustration and stormed toward the door.

‘This isn’t over,’ he snapped, shoving the door open and slamming it behind him.

My eyes followed his exit.

My teeth gritted as I resisted the urge to follow him and finish this once and for all.

The guy was a loser, through and through, a bully, more interested in the dregs of their family fortune than his famiglia .

Despite his bravado, Claudio wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty. He was the kind of man who liked to bark orders and then disappear when things went south.

He relied on others to clean up his messes, never willing to face the consequences of his actions head-on.

His greed, masked under the guise of kindred loyalty, was transparent to me and anyone paying attention.

Claudio’s purpose had nothing to do with allegiance—it was always about control, power, and, most of all, money.

I turned back to Chiara. She stood staring at the door, her face pale.

‘What’s the deal with the cash he mentioned?’ I asked, not willing to ignore the issue.

She shook her head, not meeting my eyes. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

I frowned. ‘Chiara, you have to rely on me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s happening.’

Her eyes flicked up to mine, her expression softening a little. ‘I do trust you, Rio. But this? It’s messy and dangerous.’

I stepped closer, cupping her face and forcing her to look at me. ‘ Leonessa , messy and dangerous is what I do. But I need to be in the loop.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Her jaw clenched, and I tagged a flame flare in her eyes.

Damn stubborn woman.

‘You’re going to tell me, regardless,’ I growled, even if I was apprised of a fair deal.

She pushed at my shoulders. ‘I’ve had a fuckin’ nightmare of a night and morning. I don’t want to stress out more thinking about the Barbieri Syndicate and their plans for me.’

She was combusting, the blend of grief and weariness hitting hard.

I stepped back, tucking away in my mind the nugget she’d shared with me.

‘I’ll let you off for now, woman, until you’re through with all this funeral shit. Then you’re explaining in detail.’

Not that I planned on waiting that long.

She hesitated, then nodded. ‘OK.’

My hand fell from her cheek, but I kept my gaze locked on hers. ‘I’m not letting you deal with this on your own. Whatever your brother’s up to, I’ve got your back.’

She smiled, a faint humorless lift of her lips, though I tagged the weariness in her eyes. ‘I know. Grazie .’

I jerked my chin at her, knowing more was happening than she admitted.

But for now, I let it go.