Chapter 40 Juan

The moment the gala guest list landed in my hands, I knew the universe had finally decided to cooperate with me. A charity gala High‑profile. Public. Perfect. And Salvatore Ricci will be there… with his little wife on his arm. Good. Let everyone see them together. It’ll make what I’m planning even easier.

Letta Hale has been quiet since her meltdown, but I know obsession when I see it. That girl still believes Salvatore belongs to her. Still believes she was replaced. All she needs is a little push in the right direction. I tap the edge of the invitation, already picturing her reaction.

“Send her a dress,” I tell my men. “Something expensive. Something she’ll think he picked.”

I lean back in my chair. “And a ticket. Anonymous delivery.”

Letta will do the rest. She always does, but the real prize today isn’t the gala. It’s the photo my men brought me this morning. Roc Hale and Marco, the bartender for Velvet Lace. Kissing. I study the image, tilting my head. “Well, well… the loyal right hand has secrets.” In our world, a secret like that can crack a family in half. Make a man desperate. Make him sloppy. “Does Salvatore know?” I ask.

My guy shakes his head. “No sign of it.”

I smile. Slow. Sharp. “Good. Then we keep this quiet. For now.” I fold the photo and slip it into my jacket. Pressure is a beautiful thing. Fear is even better. And the gala The gala will give me opportunities Salvatore Ricci thinks he’s untouchable. But every man has a weak point.And now I have two.

Rafe stepped into my office without knocking, the only man alive who could get away with it. He dropped a folder on my desk, the edges worn from how many times he’d clearly looked through it. “You saw the gala list?” he asked.

“I did,” I said, leaning back. “Salvatore will be there. With his wife. Perfect timing.”

Rafe smirked. “Letta’s gonna lose her mind.”

“That’s the point.” I tapped the desk. “She’s predictable. Emotional. Easy to steer. A dress and a ticket will do the work for me.”

Rafe nodded, then I slid the photo across the desk, the one of Roc and Marco.

He picked it up again, studying it. “This… this is interesting.”

“More than interesting,” I said. “This could shake him. Hard.” In our world, a secret like this wasn’t just personal, it was political. Dangerous. A crack in the armor.

Rafe leaned forward. “We could spook him. Knock him off balance before the gala.”

I raised a brow. “How?”

“Send him a copy of the picture,” Rafe said. “Anonymous. With a riddle on the back. Something that makes him think someone’s watching. Someone who knows.”

I considered it. Roc Hale was loyal. Smart. Controlled. But even the strongest men falter when they think their world is about to collapse. And Roc? He’d never be public with Marco. Not in this life. Not with his family. Not with the Riccis. Fear would eat him alive. I smiled slowly. “A riddle, huh?”

Rafe shrugged. “He’s a smart guy. Let him overthink it.”

I tapped the photo against my palm, already imagining the look on Roc’s face when he opened that envelope. “Do it,” I said. “Make it clean. Make it subtle. Just enough to shake him. Make sure he gets it today.”

Rafe nodded once. “And the gala?”

I leaned back, letting the pieces fall into place in my mind. “The gala,” I said, “is where everything starts.”

Because Salvatore Ricci thinks he’s prepared. But he has no idea how many cracks I’ve already found. And I’m going to use every single one.