16. Carlito

Chapter 16

Carlito

The air in my penthouse feels heavier than ever, the hum of tension pressing against my temples. Guards are stationed at every entrance, their sharp eyes scanning for threats. The surveillance monitors blink with grainy images from across my properties, but none of it matters. My focus is here, in this room—now a war zone in its own right.

Leo stands beside me, flipping through a dossier filled with intel on Matteo Russo’s latest moves. The weight of the attack still sits on my shoulders, each detail replaying in my head like a cursed loop: the gunfire ripping through the rooftop, the screams, and Dario’s blood staining the floor as he shielded Mia with his body.

“We’ve confirmed it,” Leo says, his voice pulling me out of the spiral. “Dominic Caruso was the shooter.”

Dominic. My jaw tightens, and my fingers curl against the armrest of the leather chair. I force myself to breathe evenly, but inside, a storm rages. Dominic—Mia’s estranged brother. The man she’s barely spoken of and never seen in years. I’d considered him irrelevant. A ghost. But ghosts have a way of haunting the living.

“And Russo?” My voice is sharp, controlled, though my chest feels ready to explode.

“Dominic’s working for him,” Leo replies. “Likely under duress. Matteo’s using him as leverage—a puppet for a bigger game. He knows what Mia means to you.”

The words hit harder than they should. What Mia means to me. Matteo’s move is calculated, a clear shot at the one place I’ve allowed myself to feel exposed. Anger rises like a tide, but I keep my face neutral. Losing control won’t help.

I glance toward the living area, where Mia sits with Bianca. They huddle on the couch, grief clinging to them like a second skin. Bianca stares blankly at her hands, and Mia—my Mia—leans close, murmuring quiet reassurances. The sight of her, fragile but unyielding, pulls at something deep in me.

Leo shifts beside me. “Do you want me to tell her?”

“No,” I say, sharper than I intended. I rein it in, speaking lower. “Not yet. She doesn’t need this weight on her shoulders, not after what she’s been through today. Keep Dominic’s involvement between us for now.”

Leo hesitates, his brows pulling together like he wants to argue, but he knows better. This isn’t about sparing Mia’s feelings. It’s about protecting her focus. If she starts questioning every shadow, every ally, it will break her.

“I’ll keep digging,” Leo says, closing the folder. “We’ll get answers.”

“You’ll bring them to me,” I say firmly. “I’ll decide how this plays out.”

With a nod, Leo steps back, leaving me to stare at the living area once more. Mia’s hand strokes Bianca’s back, her lips moving in soft, comforting words. The sight makes my chest tighten.

I turn toward my study, where the blueprints and plans await my attention. Every step I take feels heavier than the last. Secrets pile up like weights around my neck, but some truths can do more damage than any bullet.

In the study, the air is cooler, quieter. The heavy oak desk is littered with blueprints, maps, and security reports. A steaming cup of espresso sits untouched beside a notepad filled with scribbled plans for retaliation. Every angle I analyze leads back to the same bitter truth—Matteo won’t stop until I force him to.

Leo reenters, his expression grim. “There’s one more thing,” he says, handing me a photo.

I take it, my stomach hardening at the sight. It’s a grainy still from the gala’s security footage, Dominic in a dark suit, his face shadowed but unmistakable. He’s holding the weapon steady, his posture screaming training and precision.

“He didn’t hesitate,” Leo says. “No sign of second-guessing. Whatever Matteo has on him, it’s got him fully under control.”

I set the photo down, leaning forward with my hands on the desk. My mind churns with possibilities. Why Dominic? What leverage does Matteo hold that could turn him into a weapon aimed at his own sister?

“Anything on why he’s doing this?” I ask, keeping my tone steady.

Leo shakes his head. “Not yet. We’re pulling every string we can, but Russo’s good at covering his tracks.” He pauses, his gaze flicking toward the closed door. “What about Mia? She’ll find out eventually, Carlito. Keeping her in the dark—it’s a temporary fix.”

I stare at the photo, my pulse a steady thrum in my ears. “She’ll find out when the time is right,” I say. “Not before.”

The door creaks open slightly, and I glance up to see Mia standing there, hesitant. She’s wearing one of my shirts, its oversized fit swallowing her frame, but her presence fills the room in a way that makes it impossible to look away.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks softly.

Leo straightens, closing the folder quickly. “I was just leaving,” he says, slipping past her and closing the door behind him.

Mia steps closer, her eyes searching mine. “You’ve been in here for hours,” she says. “You didn’t even eat.”

“I’ve been busy,” I reply, my voice softer than I intended.

She moves closer, her steps hesitant, as if she knows the weight of what lies unspoken between us. Her gaze falls to the desk, to the scattered plans and reports, before meeting mine again.

“Is it... safe here?” she asks finally, her voice trembling just enough to reveal the fear she’s been hiding.

“Yes,” I say firmly, standing and closing the space between us. “No one will touch you, Mia. Not here, not anywhere. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, but I can see the questions in her eyes, the doubts she doesn’t voice. I want to tell her everything—about Dominic, about Matteo—but the words stick in my throat.

For now, silence is my shield.

Mia reaches out, her hand brushing against mine, a small gesture that sends a wave of resolve through me. I step back to the desk, already planning the next move to ensure her safety, even if it means holding onto the secrets that threaten to fracture us.

The door clicks shut behind Mia as she returns to Bianca’s side, leaving me in the stillness of the study. I exhale slowly, gripping the edge of the desk as the weight of the day bears down on me. Every instinct screams for action—for vengeance—but I know this isn’t a battle I can win with brute force alone.

My phone buzzes, cutting through the silence. It’s Leo again.

“What is it?” I ask, not bothering with formalities.

“There’s chatter about Dominic reaching out to Mia,” Leo says, his tone clipped. “We intercepted a courier—someone tried to deliver a note to her earlier today.”

A chill sweeps down my spine. “What did it say?”

“Not much. Just a time and place. Looks like Dominic wants to meet her,” Leo replies. “What do you want me to do?”

For a moment, I say nothing, my mind racing. Dominic’s boldness confirms my worst fears—he’s not just a pawn in Matteo’s game; he’s a variable I can’t fully control. And now, he’s dragging Mia into his chaos.

“Nothing for now,” I say finally, though the decision sits like lead in my chest. “Let the message pass. I need to know how far he’s willing to go.”

Leo pauses, clearly hesitant. “You think it’s a trap?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is,” I reply. “Dominic’s too close. I need to know what he wants, and if Matteo’s using him to get to Mia, we’ll cut the strings before he can pull them tighter.”

Leo sighs but doesn’t argue. “Understood. I’ll keep a close watch.”

“Double the detail on Mia and Bianca,” I add. “They don’t go anywhere alone. Not even inside the penthouse.”

The call ends, and I toss the phone onto the desk, the sharp clatter breaking the silence. My gaze drifts to the photo of Dominic again, the grainy image staring back like a taunt.

The boy who grew up in Mia’s family—the boy she once trusted—has become a man I can’t afford to underestimate.

The sound of soft footsteps draws my attention. I glance up as Mia peeks into the study again, her expression uncertain. “I thought you might need this,” she says, holding a plate of food she must have brought from the kitchen.

The gesture catches me off guard, and for a moment, all the tension melts away. I step forward, taking the plate from her hands, and let my fingers brush hers in the exchange.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice softer than I expected.

She lingers for a moment, her eyes searching mine, before nodding and retreating again. The door closes behind her, and I’m alone once more, the scent of freshly cooked food mixing with the stale air of strategy and secrets.

I lower myself into the chair, setting the plate aside untouched. My appetite isn’t for food. It’s for vengeance.

Dominic’s betrayal is bad enough. But if Matteo knows what Mia means to me, this war is only beginning.