Chapter 8 - The Viper Strikes Back
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Two days later, the rain returned to Chicago in relentless, icy sheets.
I spent the afternoon working in Luca’s private study, drafting the formal legal filings to secure the restaurant’s historical transit rights.
Every hour spent beside Luca revealed a man far different from the ruthless monster the tabloids painted.
He was fierce and unforgiving to his enemies, yes, but he treated his staff with honor and protected his family with religious devotion.
Whenever I looked up from my laptop, I often caught him watching me with an intensity that made my heart race.
At four o'clock, my personal phone began vibrating furiously against the mahogany desk.
The caller ID showed an unknown restricted number.
I hesitated, glancing up at Luca, who was reviewing harbor cargo manifests across from me.
“Answer it on speaker,” Luca instructed calmly, his sharp instincts instantly alert.
I tapped the screen and placed the phone on the desk between us.
“Hello?”
“Hello, little maid,” a mocking, venomous voice purred through the speaker.
It was Vanessa Bellini.
Luca’s hand froze over his documents, his dark eyes instantly turning into black ice.
“What do you want, Vanessa?” I asked, keeping my voice as steady as possible.
Vanessa let out a cruel, high-pitched laugh that grated on my nerves.
“I just wanted to see how comfortable you are playing lady of the manor in my former home.”
“Do you really think a few days in a nice suit makes you untouchable, Emily?”
“You are still a nobody whose mother is rotting away in a hospital bed.”
My blood ran cold.
“Leave my mother out of this,” I demanded, my hands clenching into fists.
“Oh, but she's such a lovely woman, Emily,” Vanessa sneered.
“In fact, my associates are standing outside room 412 at Northwestern Memorial right now.”
“The private nursing staff you were so proud of had their shift changed twenty minutes ago.”
“One phone call from my father, and the oxygen supply to that room gets turned off permanently.”
Tears of pure terror rushed to my eyes as my chest seized in panic.
“Vanessa, please—don't hurt her!” I begged, all my professional composure instantly shattering.
Luca stood up from his chair in a single fluid, explosive motion.
He leaned over the desk, his voice vibrating through the phone with the weight of an approaching thunderhead.
“Vanessa,” Luca spoke, his voice so terrifyingly quiet that even the line seemed to tremble.
The other end of the phone fell dead silent for three agonizing seconds.
“L-Luca?” Vanessa stammered, her arrogant confidence instantly faltering.
“Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic snake,” Luca warned.
“If anyone touches a single hair on Emily’s mother, I will not call the police.”
“I will not sue your father's failing corporation.”
“I will personally execute every single member of the Bellini bloodline before the sun rises tomorrow.”
“Luca, you wouldn't dare—”
“Try me,” Luca snapped, ending the call with a violent tap of his thumb.
He didn't waste a single second.
He rounded the desk, scooped me up by the elbow, and pulled me toward the door.
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“Dante!” Luca roared down the marble hallway.
“Mobilize the strike team and get the armored motorcade to Northwestern Memorial immediately!”
