Chapter 7 A Deal with the Devil

Luca didn't get far before Niccolo intercepted him in the hallway.

"We have a problem."

Luca let out a slow breath. "Of course we do."

Niccolo's expression was unreadable, but his voice was edged with something sharp. "It's the Scarpettis. They're calling for a meeting."

Luca stilled. "They want to negotiate?"

"More like they want to test you." Niccolo's jaw clenched. "Santino Scarpetti himself is coming."

That caught Luca's attention.

Santino Scarpetti was more than just another rival boss. He was a vulture. A kingmaker. He didn't come to negotiate unless he saw an opportunity-or a weakness.

Luca exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening into a fist. "Where?"

Niccolo hesitated. "Neutral ground. The old cigar lounge in Midtown."

Luca gave a curt nod. "Then let's not keep him waiting."

Midtown – The Cigar Lounge

The air was thick with smoke and the scent of aged whiskey.

Santino Scarpetti was already seated in the private back room when Luca and Niccolo arrived. He was older than Luca, in his early forties, dressed in a tailored suit that barely concealed the weight of his power.

He looked up, a slow smile creeping across his face. "Ah, the new Don DeLuca. Finally, we meet."

Luca didn't sit immediately. He let the silence stretch, meeting Santino's gaze with the same cold calculation. This was a game, and he wasn't going to play it on anyone else's terms but his own.

Santino chuckled, leaning back. "You look like your father."

Luca's jaw tightened. "You didn't ask for this meeting to reminisce."

Santino smirked. "No, I didn't." He gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Sit. Let's talk like civilized men."

Luca finally moved, lowering himself into the chair. Niccolo remained standing behind him, ever the silent shadow.

Santino poured himself a glass of whiskey but didn't offer one to Luca. A subtle insult. A challenge.

Luca ignored it.

Santino swirled his drink, watching Luca with the slow patience of a predator. "I won't waste your time. You're young. Unproven. And already, you're making enemies."

Luca didn't react. "Is that supposed to be news to me?"

Santino chuckled. "No. But what is news to you... is that I don't want a war."

Luca arched a brow. "Could've fooled me."

Santino leaned forward, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "Your father was a brute. A good one, but still a brute. You? You're different. Smarter, I think. And that means you know that peace is better for business."

Luca exhaled slowly. "And what does your version of 'peace' look like?"

Santino's smile was slow and deliberate. "A partnership. The DeLucas and the Scarpettis working together. You keep your throne, I keep mine, and we don't bleed each other dry."

Luca studied him. It was an attractive offer. Too attractive.

Which meant there was a knife somewhere in the deal, waiting to sink into his back.

"And what do you get out of this partnership?" Luca asked.

Santino's smirk deepened. "A little business expansion. Some territory adjustments. Nothing unreasonable."

Luca leaned back in his chair. "You mean you want a piece of my empire."

Santino didn't deny it. "A small piece."

Luca let the silence drag, watching Santino, feeling the weight of Niccolo's presence behind him. This was the first real test.

His father would have laughed in Santino's face. He would have refused, started a war, and painted the city in Scarpetti blood.

But Luca wasn't his father.

And he wasn't a fool.

Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You want a piece of my empire?" His voice was quiet. Lethal. "Then take it from my corpse."

The smirk on Santino's face faltered, just for a second. Then it returned, but there was something different in his eyes now.

Respect.

He chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. "You've got balls, kid. I'll give you that."

Luca didn't smile. Didn't move. He simply held Santino's gaze until the older man finally sighed.

"Very well," Santino said, setting down his glass. "Then I suppose we are at an impasse. For now."

Luca stood, adjusting his cuffs. "Enjoy your drink, Santino."

And then, without another word, he walked out.

Niccolo followed, silent until they were back outside, the cold night air wrapping around them.

Then, finally, he spoke. "That was risky."

Luca exhaled. "So was letting him think he could control me."

Niccolo studied him for a moment before nodding.

They had won this round.

But Luca knew better than to think Santino Scarpetti was done playing the game.

This was only the beginning.