18. Carlito

Chapter 18

Carlito

The morning sun streams through the penthouse’s towering windows, but its warmth feels hollow. Every light in the room only sharpens the tension hanging in the air. I sit at the long dining table, staring at the reports Leo dropped off an hour ago.

Each page is worse than the last. Matteo Russo’s reach extends farther than I expected. His latest moves aren’t just about power—they’re calculated, aimed directly at me. And at Mia.

The file in front of me confirms it: a detailed plan to target a property tied to Mia’s inheritance. I’d hoped it was coincidence, that Matteo hadn’t realized its connection to her. But the notes scrawled in the margins prove otherwise.

“High value. Leverage.”

My grip tightens on the paper. The implications are clear. Matteo doesn’t just know about Mia; he intends to use her inheritance as a weapon.

Leo steps into the room, breaking my thoughts. “We need to move fast,” he says, his voice low but steady. “If Russo hits that property, it’ll be a bloodbath. He’s sending a message.”

I nod, setting the papers down. “Reinforce the guard detail. I want eyes on Mia and Bianca at all times. No one gets near them.”

Leo hesitates, glancing toward the hallway where the bedrooms are. “You sure about keeping Mia in the dark?”

My jaw tightens. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“Carlito,” Leo says cautiously, “she’s not stupid. She knows something’s going on.”

I glare at him, but he holds his ground. He’s not wrong. Mia’s been distant since last night, her questions sharper, her silences louder.

“Let me handle it,” I say finally, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Leo nods and leaves, but his words linger. Mia isn’t stupid. And I’m running out of ways to shield her from the truth.

---

The sound of heels clicking across the floor pulls my attention. I turn to see Bianca stride into the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“What now?” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

“Good morning to you too, Bianca,” I say, keeping my tone measured.

She stops short, glaring at me. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. It’s not fine, Dad. Dario’s dead, and we’re stuck here like prisoners while you decide everything for us.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and I can feel the grief and frustration radiating off her. “The funeral arrangements have already been made,” I reply evenly. “It will be small and private. I won’t risk another incident, not after what happened.”

She scoffs, her arms tightening across her chest. “Small? Private? You mean rushed and hidden. You didn’t even let Mia attend! Dario would have wanted her there.”

The bitterness in her voice stings, but I keep my tone calm. “Mia’s safety is my priority, Bianca. Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I don’t feel the weight of what’s happened?”

Her glare hardens. “I think you’re using safety as an excuse to control everything. You always make the decisions, and the rest of us just have to fall in line. It’s not fair, Daddy.”

I step closer, my voice lowering. “Nothing about this is fair, Bianca. I lost Dario too. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure no one else pays that price—not you, and not Mia.”

Her lip trembles, but she doesn’t back down. “Maybe if you stopped treating everyone like pawns in whatever game you’re playing, we wouldn’t have had to pay that price in the first place.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she’s already turning away. Her heels click against the marble as she storms down the hallway, her door slamming shut behind her.

---

The cool morning air greets me as I step onto the balcony. Mia stands at the edge, her hands gripping the railing as she stares out at the skyline. The view is breathtaking—the sprawling expanse of Las Vegas glittering under the rising sun—but there’s no light in her expression.

“Mia,” I say softly, careful not to startle her.

She doesn’t turn, her shoulders stiff. “What’s going on, Carlito?”

Her voice is calm, but the weight of her words is anything but.

I walk closer, stopping just a few steps behind her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the quiet. “Don’t do that,” she says, finally turning to face me. Her hazel eyes burn with frustration. “Don’t pretend everything’s normal when it’s not. Dario is dead. Bianca’s falling apart. And you’re... you’re so distant. It’s like you’re holding the world on your shoulders, and I’m just supposed to sit here and ignore it.”

I meet her gaze, the urge to tell her everything rising in my chest. But I push it down. “I’m trying to protect you,” I say, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

“Protect me?” she repeats, her voice rising. “From what, Carlito? From who? You keep saying that, but you don’t tell me anything. How am I supposed to trust you when you won’t even let me in?”

Her words sting because they’re true.

I step closer, my hand reaching for hers. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t relax either. “Mia,” I say, my tone softening, “there are things I can’t tell you. Not yet. But everything I’m doing is for you. For Bianca. For us.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” she snaps, yanking her hand away. “You sound like you’re reading from a script. How do I know you’re not just... lying to me?”

The accusation hits harder than Bianca’s earlier outburst. I close the distance between us, my hands landing on her shoulders. “I would never lie to you,” I say, my voice low and firm. “I can’t give you answers right now, but you have to trust me.”

Her eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think she might relent. But then she shakes her head, her frustration boiling over. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispers.

The words hang between us, heavy and suffocating. I feel something snap inside me—a mix of anger, guilt, and desperation. Before I can stop myself, I tilt her chin up and capture her lips with mine.

The kiss is rough, fueled by the storm raging inside both of us. She resists at first, her hands pressing against my chest as if to push me away. But then something shifts. Her resistance melts into heat, her fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me closer.

The intensity between us builds, the argument forgotten as our emotions spill over. But even as the moment deepens, I know this connection can’t erase the secrets still standing between us.

The world narrows to the space between us. Her fingers clutch my shirt, her body pressed close to mine as if trying to bridge the gap our words couldn’t. For a fleeting moment, everything else falls away—the danger, the lies, the weight of what I’m keeping from her.

But reality crashes back too quickly.

Mia pulls away first, her breathing heavy, her lips swollen from the kiss. She takes a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield her emotions from me. “This doesn’t fix anything,” she says, her voice trembling.

“I know,” I admit, my own voice low.

She looks at me, her hazel eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I just... I don’t know how to do this, Carlito. How am I supposed to trust you when it feels like you’re always hiding something?”

Her question pierces through me, leaving me at a loss for words.

Before I can respond, the sound of my phone vibrating on the table inside interrupts us. The sharp noise is like a bucket of cold water poured over the moment, and Mia turns away, walking back into the penthouse without another word.

---

I follow her inside, watching as she disappears down the hallway toward the bedrooms. My phone continues to buzz, dragging me back into the present.

I pick it up, the name on the screen instantly sharpening my focus: Leo.

“What is it?” I answer, my voice clipped.

“We’ve got a problem,” Leo says without preamble. “Russo’s crew is making moves near the property tied to Mia’s inheritance. I think they’re testing our defenses, but it’s only a matter of time before they escalate.”

A curse slips from my lips. “Double the security detail. I want eyes on every inch of that property.”

“Already on it,” Leo replies. There’s a pause, then his tone softens. “How’s Mia holding up?”

I glance toward the hallway, where the sound of a door closing tells me she’s shut herself in her room. “She’s... frustrated,” I admit. “And she’s starting to ask questions I can’t answer yet.”

“Carlito,” Leo says cautiously, “you can’t keep her in the dark forever. She’s smart. If you don’t tell her the truth, someone else will.”

I clench my jaw, the weight of his words settling heavily on my shoulders. “I’ll handle it,” I say firmly, though the knot in my chest tightens.

Leo hesitates, then sighs. “Just don’t wait too long. Russo’s playing a long game, and Mia’s at the center of it. She deserves to know what’s at stake.”

The call ends, but the tension remains.

---

That night, I sit in the armchair near the window, watching Mia as she sleeps. Her features are soft in the glow of the city lights, but a crease mars her brow, even in rest.

She doesn’t know the full extent of the danger she’s in, and it’s my fault. My decision to keep her in the dark is meant to protect her, but now I wonder if it’s only pushing her further away.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as a single thought burns in my mind:

She’s mine to protect. But how do I keep her safe from a war she doesn’t even know she’s in?

Leo updates me that Russo’s crew is making bolder moves, setting the stage for an inevitable confrontation that could expose everything.