Chapter 23

VALERIO

I fussed over Chiara, making her comfortable in her office chair, cleaning cuts, and hunting down an ice pack from her workplace fridge.

She took it with a sigh, pressing it against her bleeding, swollen face.

All the while, I was brooding about how Nicco got a chance to breach the gallery.

‘I’ll be back,’ I muttered to Chiara. ‘Front door’s locked. I need to check the rear access.’

She nodded as I approached the posterior door and found a broken lock and a smashed security pad.

Nicco must have kicked the door in, using sheer brute power to get in.

I glanced at the gallery’s laneway.

It was quiet, yet beyond was the main street, bustling with the typical Naples energy.

People passed by, chatting in rapid Italian, while all around, the aroma of espresso and fresh pastries scented in the air.

I searched the area and spotted nothing unusual.

Other than the occasional delivery van, loud conversations, and zipping scooters, it was business as usual.

Jogging to my car, parked in front of the gallery, I ran back with my toolbox.

I used a long piece of wood from the art packing room and nailed shut the back door.

I returned to Chiara.

She sat at her desk, pressing the ice pack to her cut lip.

I itched to hunt down Nicco, for he wasn’t going to get away with this shit.

Rage boiled in me, but I pushed it down. Right now, I had to take care of her.

‘I’m taking you home.’

My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

She nodded her assent, and I helped her stand, keeping an arm around her waist as we left the gallery.

Every step reminded me that I hadn’t been there when she needed me most.

Once we returned to her place, I led her to the bathroom.

I filled the bath with warm water and eased her out of her clothes, careful not to touch where she hurt.

She winced as she lowered herself, the heated soak already beginning to soothe her battered body.

I sat on the edge of the tub, wiping the blood from her cheek with a soft cloth, then kissed the unbruised part of her forehead. She leaned into me, her breath still shaky.

‘When you’re ready to tell me everything about the Barbieri deal, please do so,’ I whispered into her hair.

‘I can tell you now,’ she said pulling away so she’d gaze into my eyes.

‘Not this very moment, it can wait until tomorrow.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I want you to know more now. I’m not that groggy or out of it.’

I conceded with a deep exhalation.

She outlined how Claudio borrowed from loan sharks to fund his excessive lifestyle. ‘My fratelli now owes a significant amount of cash to the Barbieris, one of the most ruthless Maltese drug syndicates and money lenders.’

I pressed my lips. I had to make peace, for a war with the Barbieris was not one I wished the Calibreses to get mired in. Neither did I want to leave my woman hanging in the wind in fear.

Truth be told, I wanted to be her knight.

‘I’ll get Mauri to watch over you while I’m away,’ I said, knowing I couldn’t leave her alone now.

Her head snapped up, her eyes dilated with alarm. ‘Gone where?’

‘To find Nicco. To stop his relentless harassment.’

When she began to protest, I let her see my ice, and she stopped speaking mid-sentence.

‘OK. Find him and say hi to him from me,’ she whispered with a slight upturn of her lips.

‘This is no joke, woman,’ I growled, pissed off she was taking this all too lightly.

Which pointed to signs of a woman too used to abuse.

It was enough to make me lose my shit. Not at her but at a dark world that shaped her fucked up sense of self.

‘Mauri? Who’s he?’

Her question deflected some of my rage. ‘He’s an associate,’ I rumbled. ‘You can trust him, bella .’

She stared at me for an extended moment, weighing her faith in me.

‘Fine,’ she said, exhaling shakily. ‘But don’t take too long.’

I kissed her again before getting up.

I dialed Mauri, knowing he’d be there in minutes.

She might not like it, but it was the safest option.

When he arrived, I let him in, explaining the situation in fast, quick phrases.

When she came down the stairs, she gasped.

‘The fuck?’ she called out, retreating a few steps onto the landing.

From upstairs, she glared at him, then me. ‘That’s the man who cased out the gallery several weeks ago.’

‘Because I sent him,’ I rasped, holding her gaze. ‘He’s with me.’

‘He works for you?’ Her voice rose in incredulity.

Mauri and I exchanged glances.

‘Something like that,’ he grated.

Her flicker of fear shifted into frustration, then resignation.

‘He might be one of the scariest mofos in town, belleza , but his loyalty is unshakable to me and, by inference, to you, too. You’ve nothing to worry about.’

Chiara descended the stairs with care, her bare feet peeping from under her flowing gown.

She tracked to my side, and I banded an arm around her, squeezing her waist for reassurance.

‘If it helps,’ Mauri murmured, straight-faced, ‘I love cats, knit, and play swamp football. I’m harmless until you get in my face.’

Her body shook beside me, suppressing a laugh. She relaxed a little, though I sensed she wasn’t unhappy with the idea.

I didn’t have time to soothe every wound. There was something I needed to do.

‘You’ll be OK,’ I growled, pulling her into my embrace and holding her close.

She melted into me as if letting the fear subside.

‘I need to look into Nicco so he won’t bother you again,’ I murmured, his voice a quiet promise. ‘Not while I can help it.’

She lifted her mouth instinctively, and I gave her a long kiss, stroking her arms to reassure her.

‘Mauri is family; I trust him with my life; you’ll be safe,’ I rasped, even as I caught Mauri’s eye, narrowing my gaze at the smirk on his face.

I raised the royal finger at him as she buried my face in my chest.

The tension in my body ratcheted, my muscles coiling tight, ready to strike. Knowing she was thinking the same thing I was.

Nicco Barbieri wasn’t someone who just walked away.

I had to get to him before he had a chance to regroup.

He thought he was the shit. He had no idea he was about to shit his pants when he found out I was a Calibrese, and not a happy one at that.

Tracking Nicco Barbieri wasn’t hard.

The moment he left the gallery, I had eyes on him.

I soon tracked him by accessing the Calibrese network of cameras, which we either owned outright or hacked into.

The footage I accessed made it easy to follow his movements.

It seemed he shunned subtlety in favor of leaving mega-digital footprints everywhere. He stopped at a famous café, ordered a drink, and paid with a credit card.

I called Mauri, and within minutes, he had remote-hacked the cafe and obtained the plastic money digits Nicco used.

The false name linked to his purchase was enough to lead to his hotel.

He was staying at a luxury resort on Ischia Island, off the coast of Naples.

I felt a cold satisfaction settle over me as I went to the private docks, where a sleek speed boat awaited.

The VanDutch 32 came complete with its minimalist and iconic lines.

It was registered to one of our Calibrese shell companies and was always available when my brothers and I needed it.

I considered my next steps as I leaped into the elegant, ergonomic vessel, turned the engine on, and pointed the axe bow towards the sea.

Nicco had chosen to threaten Chiara. I’d let him walk away to avoid a confrontation in front of my women. I was also sure he was planning to return with more muscle, but I had no concept of letting that happen. Likewise, he was dead wrong for mistaking me as a forgiving man.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as I neared The Montparte Resort & Spa. A famed resort on the shores of Ischia Island.

The rays of dying sunshine bounced off the water, casting a soft golden glow on the yacht as I motored into the bay.

The retreat loomed ahead, a five-star sanctuary perched above the sea, surrounded by lush Mediterranean gardens. The sprawling luxury hotel was the kind of place where people come to forget their lives, not to resolve the darker corners of them.

Its grandeur was undeniable—rustic charm blended with modern opulence, white stucco walls, and contemporary finishes—but I wasn’t here for a getaway.

I maneuvered the speed boat to a stop at the hotel’s marina.

I docked and strode towards reception like I was going to war.

A pair of concierges welcomed me, asking whether they could help.

Professionalism and auto smiles wreathed their faces, reminiscent of the service only a place like The Montparte provided.

I waved them off, and they must have sensed I meant business as they nodded and smiled.

I swept past them, through paths that wound through three hectares of parkland, with sweeping views of the Bay and the Gulf of Naples.

It was breathtaking, but it didn’t distract me from the fact that I needed to find out where Nicco was staying.

The marble floors gleamed under the lobby’s golden lights, and an air of quiet sophistication clung to everything. I walked up to the front desk, where a young man in a sharp uniform smiled at me, oblivious to the storm I had brought with me.

‘Buonasera, signore. How can I help you?’

‘Nicco Barbieri,’ I said, leaning in over the counter, letting my tone do the heavy lifting. ‘Which room?’

His smile faltered, but he held his composure. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t disclose—’

I didn’t have time for bullshit. ‘Listen, you know exactly who he is, and here’s a tip: Barbieri isn’t the type of guest to be fucking with, and neither am I. Now, I’m only going to ask once. Which room is he in?’

My utterance was guttural, no shits given, and the receptionist’s nerves showed in his eyes. He was only a kid, caught between his job and Nicco’s reputation for ruthlessness.

The young man’s fingers fidgeted, and he typed furiously into the computer. ‘He’s in room 318, sir. Please don’t—’

‘I need a card.’

His eyes bugged out until I tilted back enough for him to glimpse the butt of my Wilson.

His face blanched as he scrabbled for one, coding it for Nicco’s room.

He handed it to me with shaking hands.

I leaned in further, my rasp dropping to a near whisper. ‘Don’t even think about calling ahead.’

‘I won’t tell a -,’

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I strode past, the resort’s opulence lost on me as I made my way through hallways lined with art and soft lighting.

Everything in this place was designed to soothe, to create an illusion of paradise.

The calm before the storm.

When I reached his door, I paused, listening.

The familiar sound of a TV echoed from inside.

He was relaxed-good.

I tried the handle, but it didn’t give - locked.

Nicco didn’t expect anyone to come for him here, not in this cocoon of wealth and grandeur.

Using the keycard, I opened the door and stepped in.

The man sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, his eyes glued to the screen. He didn’t even look up until I was halfway across the room.

When he finally caught onto me, he shot out of his chair, his bandaged face drained of all color.

The device in his hand fell, clattering to the floor like an afterthought.

I raked my eyes over his left hand in a sling and smirked.

His cut-up visage, puffy eyes, and scratched skin made it seem like he’d been in a fight with a lioness and lost.

His forced grin twitched as he tried to mask the deep-set fear in his eyes.

‘Well, well,’ he said, his tone a fragile effort at bravado. ‘Look who’s graced me with his presence. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. You miss me already?’

I didn’t respond to his weak attempt at humor. I wasn’t here to talk games. I stepped forward, my gaze locking onto his, voice steady and cold. ‘You crossed a line at the gallery.’

Nicco’s smirk faltered, but he caught himself, leaning back into the couch as if pretending the sudden shift in the room didn’t make his stomach knot.

He gave a careless shrug, though the tension in his body betrayed him. ‘Business, my friend. You know how it goes. Sometimes you have to motivate people. Your girlfriend’s no exception.’

Rage seared through me, hot and furious, but I kept it buried.

I moved closer, my face in his personal space. ‘Motivate? You put your hands on her, Nicco. Do you think that’s something your father would allow to slide? Think he’d be OK with you roughing up a woman?’

‘He doesn’t give a fuck. I collect on his behalf, especially on the loan contracts, and how I do it is my own business.’

‘Until it crosses my shit,’ I drawled.

‘The hell? Who do you think you are?’

I reached out in a flash and slapped him.

The sound, a sharp crack, bounced off the walls, along with his cry.

I ignored the outrage on his face, and when he swung for me, I backhanded him, this time with a little more force.

‘ Cazzo ,’ he roared.

‘Want more?’ I taunted.

He glared at me. ‘Who are you anyway?’

Mindful that hotel rooms these days were monitored and bugged, I hovered over him and beckoned him to draw nearer with a little finger.

His eyes widened as he obeyed, my slaps having realigned his thinking.

I whispered into his ear.

I kissed my lips with two fingers

At that, Nicco’s cocky posture cracked.

He straightened, his eyes dilating, hands curling into fists at his sides, face white as a ghost. ‘What the hell?’

I leaned in until my face was inches from his, rasp razor-sharp, each word a direct threat. ‘You’re not the top of the food chain, Barbieri. I am, and so is my woman. Trust me, I didn’t appreciate you assaulting Chiara or threatening her. I might teach you what happens when you’ve been laying your mitts on people out of your league.’

A tic developed in his left eye.

The false bravado evaporated, his throat working as he tried to swallow back the fear rising.

He let out a shaky laugh, but it held no humor. ‘Come on, amica . You’re blowing this out of proportion. Chiara owes us money. You know how this business works—’

My hand shot out, and my fist went through his jaw.

I heard the gratifying crack as he fell to the ground, screaming.

Blood stained his bandages as I’d clocked him in the same area Chiara had sliced him.

‘Not anymore.’ I cut him off, my voice slicing through his cries and gasps. ‘Broke your maxilla, have I? How do you like the pain? It’s the same agony you inflict on others, and what’s fair is fair. Do you want a shattered femur, too? They’re hell in recovery, and you never quite get back your jaunty stride. Or perhaps a fractured ulna, right hand? If I read it, you’ll need to relearn your writing all over again.’

‘What do you want?’ he gasped at me and cradled his injured chin.

‘A fast learner, I understand. You’re going to call off your dogs, for I‘m sure you sent for reinforcements from Rome, perhaps called a few associates in Naples, si ?’

He stared at me, then when I arched a brow to urge him along, he nodded, cursing under his breath.’

I continued, undaunted. ‘Turn back every hound you’re sending after her or me. Also, you’ll be returning every last bit of money she or her brothers have paid the Barbieris and wiping her slate clean like it never happened. From this moment on, she owes nothing. I don’t care how you do it, but you better figure out some ‘creative accounting’ real fast.’

Nicco blinked, his lips parting in disbelief. He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in my eyes must have told him I wasn’t bluffing.

I witnessed him realize he wasn’t adept enough to talk his way out of whatever punishment I was about to serve.

Panic flickered in his gaze as the fuckin’ actuality of his situation settled on him, pressing in like a vice.

‘You can’t be real -.’

His voice cracked, a far cry from the cocky thug who’d swaggered into the gallery and thrown Chiara around like she was nothing.

I took another step closer, forcing him to lean back until he had nowhere to go. ‘You think this is a joke? You touch her again, and I’ll make sure your father gets word of every last detail of what you’ve been up to. Of how you dared to handle, therefore desecrate the girlfriend of a Calibrese, how you broke the oath between the high Mafia to honor our women. He’ll hear it all when we deliver you to him in a body bag.’

The silence surrounding us was thick, suffocating. Nicco’s chest rose and fell rapidly, fear pooling in his eyes as he struggled to maintain even a shred of his former arrogance.

Finally, he nodded, a whisper leaving his lips. ‘OK. I’ll make it right. I’ll reverse everything. I swear.’

‘Now, while I have eyes on it.’

I jerked my chin to his computer, and he groaned, blood seeping from his mouth.

He shuffled to the desk and loaded the required screens while shooting me murderous glares.

I ignored him, reaching into my jacket pocket for my cheroot case, lighting one up, and drawing in the herbal smoke deep into my lungs.

In time, he made his announcement. ‘It’s all done,’ he mumbled, wincing in pain.

I ambled to the laptop, where he took me through various interfaces and transactions.

‘That’s everything?’ I confirmed.

‘ Si ,’ he muttered through his loose teeth.

‘Excellent. Now pack your shit up and leave Naples. I’ll be waiting in the lobby to ensure you check out.’

I straightened, giving him ample space to breathe again. ‘Remember this, Nicco—if I ever spot you in this town again or within half a country near Chiara, you won’t live long enough to regret it.’

He didn’t respond.

He had no wind remaining in his sails. He nodded, his head hanging in defeat as I turned my back on him, leaving him to wallow in the wreckage of his deflated arrogance.

I left the room, my blood still roiling, body amped, adrenaline high.

I headed down the corridor and into the reception area, where a lone pianist played a concerto on a baby grand.

Settling on a velvet lounge, I focused on the hotel lifts. Until Nicco bolted out of one of them, dragging a rolling suitcase behind him with his good hand.

He barreled forward, advancing for the sliding door exit, pausing for a slight, panicked moment when his eyes fell on me.

With a snarl, terror enveloped his face as he charged out of the resort, heading towards the docks.

I sat back with a chuckle.

Fuckin’ fantastic riddance.