Chapter Four Luca Romano POV

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The city never really slept. Not for men like me.

From my office window, Manhattan stretched in lights and shadows, glittering and alive, but it was a city of predators disguised as innocents. Every blinking neon sign was a heartbeat, every alley whispered secrets, and somewhere in the cracks between the towers, enemies waited. Always waiting.

I leaned back in the leather chair, whiskey glass in hand, trying to settle the storm inside me. Every step I’d taken since my father’s death had been calculated, deliberate. Every choice had been weighed against what I could afford to lose. And yet, she still managed to unravel me without even trying.

Sienna.

Her name burned like both curse and prayer. I had pulled her into my world tonight not by force, but by inevitability. She had seen too much. Questions lingered in her eyes, questions that could get her killed. Questions I couldn’t allow anyone else to see.

The ice clinked as I swirled the whiskey. My chest ached, though I’d never admit it. Desire was a luxury, weakness forbidden but she was both at once. She wasn’t just a weakness. She was a storm I couldn’t look away from.

A knock at the door pulled me from the spiral. Jory never wasted words. He stepped inside, shoulders relaxed, eyes sharp. My consigliere, my anchor when everything threatened to slip.

“She’s still here,” he said, with that casual smirk he always carried.

“And?” I replied, swirling the whiskey again.

She’s asking why you keep her locked in the penthouse like a caged bird. He leaned casually against the frame. She’s got fire, boss. I like her.

I shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass, but it didn’t matter. Jory knew me too well. He had seen me fight, bleed, crawl through fire. He had seen me break men and rebuild empires. But he had never seen me hesitate until her.

“She’s not a toy,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

“Good.” His smirk deepened. Because toys break. And you don’t look like a man ready to let this one go.

Then, almost casually, he added, “By the way… I’ve got whispers. Russians moving uptown. Nothing concrete yet, but shadows are sniffing around the edges. Keep that in mind.”

I nodded. His words were light, but the weight behind them settled in my chest like lead. The game outside these walls was moving fast, and time was a luxury I didn’t have. I let the thought linger, even as I tried to push it aside. She was here. Alive. And for now, that was what mattered.

By the time I made it back to the penthouse, the whiskey did nothing to dull the tension. The elevator opened into silence, broken only by the soft hum of city noise beyond the glass walls.

She was pacing, a tigress trapped in a cage of glass and steel. Every movement radiated defiance. Every step was sharp, restless. When her eyes locked onto mine, the air changed. Dangerous. Charged. Alive.

You think locking me up will make me forget what I saw? Her voice was raw with fury, arms folded tight. The man, the blood… all of it?

I closed the distance slowly, deliberate in every step. The scent of her perfume cut through the lingering whiskey haze, dizzying me. She wanted to hate me. Needed to. But tangled in that anger, I saw fear. Beneath it, something else lingered, unspoken and dangerous.

I think keeping you here keeps you alive, I said flatly. Truth, stripped bare.

Her laugh was bitter.

Alive? This isn’t living. It’s a gilded cage.

Would you rather I let you walk out that door and straight into a bullet?

Her lips parted, ready with a blade of a reply, but no sound came. She hated me, yes, but the fire in her eyes wasn’t enough to mask the tension in her shoulders, the way her chest rose too fast. Fear tangled with defiance, and I knew she sensed the pressure outside these walls too even if she didn’t know why.

“Why me?” she whispered finally.

The question hit me like a bullet. Why her? Out of all the women, all the faces that had drifted through my life, why had I let her stay? Why hadn’t I erased the problem before it ever had a chance to spread?

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I reached for her, fingers curling beneath her chin, tilting her face up until her breath hitched. Her skin burned beneath my touch, soft and fire all at once. She froze, eyes wide, but she didn’t pull away.

Careful what you ask, Sienna, I murmured, low, dangerous.

Some truths are more dangerous than lies.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between us. Her lips, just inches away, her breath brushing my own. Everything outside the city, the empire, the blood on my hands faded.

And then the moment shattered.

The door burst open.

Jory’s voice cut through the charged air, sharp and urgent. “Boss, we’ve got company. The Russians.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, and I felt the familiar surge of control tighten around me. Every instinct flared. The fragile thread of tension between us snapped, replaced by the cold certainty of war.

I glanced toward the window. The city’s lights flickered below like distant fires, reminding me the threat wasn’t just in the room. Shadows were moving in the streets, men sniffing around my territory. The warning Jory had given so casually was no longer background noise. It was the first note in a symphony of violence about to descend.

She flinched slightly, and I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to see it, didn’t need to bear witness to the empire’s fight. But it was too late. She already knew too much.

“Stay behind me,” I said softly, though not loud enough for anyone outside to hear. My hand brushed the small of her back. She stiffened for a moment, then let me guide her.

The Russians had arrived. And the city, the one that never slept, was about to bleed again.