Chapter 4 Luciano's POV

It's been seven days. 168 hours, 10,080 minutes. Still no word from Vicenzo Moretti.

I'm a patient man, but I don't like to be disrespected.

The moment he walked out of my casino with a smirk on his bloated face and false promises of repayment, I already knew he wouldn't return. He'd gamble the fear away like it was nothing but cigarette smoke.

Men like Vicenzo always thought they had another angle. Another drink, another bet, and another story to sell. But they never understood men like me.

I don't bluff, I collect.

I stood in my private study, fingers wrapped around a crystal glass of bourbon, the deep amber catching the light like flame. The late afternoon sun bled through the windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Outside, my men were already en route.

Alessandro stood near the door, silent but fidgeting. He always fidgeted when he didn't agree with me.

"You're really going to do it," he said finally, his voice low. "You're going to drag that poor bastard here."

I turned the glass slowly in my hand. "Correction. He's being invited. I'm simply ensuring he doesn't miss the appointment."

"And what then?" Alessandro asked. "You threaten him? Beat him? He has nothing to give you, boss. You know that."

I smiled faintly. "He has something, or rather... someone."

He groaned. "You're still on that? Luciano, we've got bigger problems than some reckless old man's daughter."

I looked at him, my smile fading. "Don't call her that."

He paused. "What?"

"She's not some girl. She's Aria."

Alessandro doesn't understand. He thinks I'm obsessed. Maybe I am, but I've never wanted anything with such quiet intensity before in years.

"She's not part of this," Alessandro said, shaking his head.

I drained the bourbon in one long pull, the burn crawling down my throat like satisfaction. "She is now."

The silence between us stretched until the door opened and Lorenzo stepped in, flanked by two other men. He gave a short nod.

"We've got him," he said. "He put up a fight - until he saw the gun. Then he pissed himself."

"Charming," I muttered, setting the glass down.

A moment later, they dragged Vicenzo into the room. He looked worse than I remember. The stink of fear and cheap whiskey clung to him like sweat. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on me. Recognition dawned, and with it came terror.

"Mr. De Rossi," he sputtered. "This-this isn't necessary. I was gonna come see you-"

I raised a hand and the room fell silent. I walked toward him slowly, the click of my shoes echoing like judgment in the vast room.

"You insult me, Vicenzo," I said calmly. "You made a bet which you lost and then you vanished like a coward."

"I-I was trying to get the money. I swear it. I've been-"

"Gambling," I finished for him, voice flat. "Trying to win back what you owe with more poison."

"I thought maybe if I got lucky-"

I chuckled. A low, amused sound that didn't reach my eyes.

"Luck doesn't visit men like you, Vicenzo. It doesn't climb through the cracks of whiskey bottles or follow the scent of desperation. You had your chance."

He dropped to his knees. "Please... please don't kill me. I've got nothing. Nothing!"

I crouched in front of him, studying his trembling face. "That's where you're wrong. You have one thing left. The only thing in your miserable life that still has value."

His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Aria," I whispered.

His entire body stiffened. The silence that followed was so thick it smothered the room.

"No," he finally choked. "Not her. She's just a girl. She-she doesn't even know you."

"But I know her," I said, my tone soft but razor-sharp. "I've watched her. I've seen how she suffers because of you. How she carries your debts and shame like they're her own. Do you think she'll survive the next man who comes to collect? Because it won't be me next time, Vicenzo. It'll be someone who doesn't want payment in names."

Tears filled his eyes, but I felt nothing. Pity has long since been buried beneath the rubble of who I used to be.

"You can't... you can't take her," he whispered.

I leaned closer. "I can. And I will."

He looked up, eyes red, lips trembling.

"You sign her over," I said. "As collateral. It's either that or I take something else. Maybe your legs, tongue or even your life."

The door creaked as it opened again. One of my men stepped in with a clipboard and pen. A blank agreement.

"You have one minute to decide."

Vicenzo stared at it like it was a snake, not a piece of paper. Then, slowly - with hands that trembled like leaves in a storm - he reached out and signed.

When it was done, I straightened and nodded to Lorenzo.

"Take him home. Let her know I'll be coming soon."

"Understood."

As they dragged him out, I walked back to my window, staring out into the dusky horizon. The city below was alive, moving, pulsing with secrets. She was out there somewhere.

Aria Moretti.

And she would soon be mine.