Chapter six: Little Dove

Luca’s POV

Vito Romano had apparently decided the flowers and decoration could hide his desperation, but they couldn’t.

Neither could polished marble, expensive wine, or the army of servants moving through his house like the fucking Pope was coming to dinner.

I stepped out of the car and looked at the Romano estate. The armed guards to suggest Vito was expecting an invasion rather than his future son-in-law.

Vito was scared, which made me feel pleased.

“Very welcoming,” Matteo murmured beside me as Adriano climbed out of the second car, adjusting his jacket.

“I expected a firing squad,” Adriano said.

“You still might get one.” I said dismissively.

The front doors opened, and Vito appeared wearing the sort of smile men reserved for people they secretly wanted dead.

“Luca.” He extended his hand. “Welcome.”

“Vito.” I shook it. “You look considerably happier than you did yesterday.”

“Yesterday was business and today you’re my guest.”

“How touching, I suppose becoming your son-in-law has its benefits.”

His smile tightened, but he stepped aside to let us enter.

Inside, the house was even more ridiculous. Fresh flowers decorated nearly every available surface, servants moved around carrying silver trays, and someone had apparently decided the chandeliers needed polishing.

“Martha has been preparing since morning,” Vito explained.

“Has she? I assumed you’d been expecting royalty.”

“She’s trying to make a good impression.”

“On me? Tell her not to worry. You’ve already given me your daughter.”

Matteo coughed behind me and Vito stopped walking.

“Luca, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make jokes about this arrangement in front of my family.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want anyone thinking you traded your daughter for military protection.”

His jaw tightened. “Lower your voice.”

I smiled and patted his shoulder. “Relax, Vito. If I wanted to embarrass you, I’d have brought a crowd.”

Matteo leaned toward me as we continued walking. “You’re an asshole.”

“And yet you insist on accompanying me everywhere. I’m beginning to think you enjoy my company.”

Vito led us into a spacious sitting room where several family photographs decorated one wall. I would have ignored them, except something caught my attention.

Fiona.

There she was, perhaps eight years old, sitting on her father’s shoulders with a missing front tooth and a ridiculous smile.

Another photograph showed her at graduation, wearing a gown and holding a bouquet while Vito stood beside her looking prouder than I’d ever seen him.

Then there was one taken when she was older, perhaps seventeen. Her arms were wrapped around his neck from behind while he pretended to look irritated.

Both were laughing, I had known Fiona was Vito’s favorite daughter. That was precisely why I’d demanded her instead of Viviana.

But seeing the photographs made something clearer.

Vito Romano, a man who could order executions without losing his appetite, apparently became a completely different person around his youngest daughter.

There were photographs of Viviana too, of course, but Fiona appeared everywhere.

Birthdays, Christmas, vacations and even family dinners plus Vito was beside her in nearly every one smiling and looking very proud.

“Admiring the photographs?”

I turned to find Vito watching me. “Your wife has quite the collection.”

“Martha likes keeping memories.”

“Clearly. Although I must say, you look almost human in some of them.”

He ignored the insult and followed my gaze toward Fiona’s graduation photograph.

His expression softened and j saw the weakness he had for her.

“You love her very much,” I observed.

“She’s my daughter.”

“That wasn’t what I said.”

Vito’s expression hardened. “Fiona has nothing to do with whatever disagreements we’ve had in the past.”

I almost laughed.

Fifteen years ago, this man had taken away the only woman who’d ever mattered to me and now he expected me to believe his daughter should remain untouched by the consequences.

“Of course,” I said pleasantly. “Now, about that whiskey you promised me.”

He studied me for another moment before turning toward the drinks cabinet.

I looked at Fiona’s photograph again.

He’d practically decorated his house with proof of how much she meant to him and yesterday, he’d handed her over.

Desperation really was a beautiful thing.

Vito poured the whiskey himself, something I suspected he hadn’t done for another man in years, I accepted the glass.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t get accustomed to it.”

“Too late. I’m already enjoying having you as family.”

He looked like he regretted every decision that had brought us to this moment.

A few minutes later, Martha entered the room.

I’d met her on several occasions, although we’d never exchanged more than polite conversation. She was quieter than her husband, but there was something about her that suggested she noticed far more than she said.

“Luca.” She offered a restrained smile. “Welcome.”

“Martha. Your home looks lovely.”

“Thank you. Fiona will be down shortly.”

“No rush. I’m sure she’s thrilled about meeting me.”

Martha’s smile faltered and Vito glared.

After Martha excused herself, Adriano wandered toward the photographs.

“So that’s her?” he asked, pointing toward Fiona’s graduation picture.

I followed his gaze. “Yes.”

“Pretty girl. I looked her up last night, actually. You’ve certainly chosen well.”

“Adriano.”

“What?”

“Stop discussing my future wife’s appearance.”

He grinned and looked toward Matteo. “Did you hear that? We haven’t even met her, and he’s already territorial.”

“I’m not territorial. I simply dislike listening to idiots.”

Matteo smiled into his glass. Of course, Luca.”

I gave him a warning look before the bastard could say anything else, footsteps sounded near the staircase.

Vito looked up and so did everyone else.

I turned and there she was.

Fuck!

That was my first thought, it was not particularly intelligent, but accurate the photographs had failed spectacularly.

Fiona Romano descended beside her mother, wearing an emerald-green dress that made her eyes look almost unnaturally bright.

Platinum-blonde hair fell in loose waves down her back, and one hand rested lightly against the railing.

But it wasn’t the dress or her hair that caught my attention.

It was her face.

Jesus Christ.

She had the most intense pair of green eyes I’d ever seen, framed by delicate features and a face so innocent that, for one ridiculous second, I wondered whether Vito had sent down the wrong daughter.

I’d expected someone polished, calculating, perhaps already accustomed to the uglier parts of our world.

Instead, she looked like she belonged somewhere far away from men like me.

Her eyes found mine and stopped waking briefly, there was fear in those eyes but also defiance too.

I felt Matteo shift beside me, but I barely noticed.

Fifteen years I’d waited to destroy Vito Romano, and now the most precious thing in his life was walking straight toward me.

Such an innocent little face with beautiful, furious eyes.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her, almost but too bad, little dove. I was going to enjoy breaking you.