Luca And Alberto Fanart の小説・ストーリー

He spat the word uncle because he knew damned well that Alina liked and respected Pietro more than she would ever respect him. I smiled then. A slow smile that puzzled Alberto. A crazed look snuck into his eyes and I laughed. "You're not going to touch him," I said softly. "Because you need me alive. And you need me scared. And right now? I’m neither." The blade pressed deeper. Pietro groaned weakly. Alberto's jaw ticked. "Last chance, Luca." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I hope you brought more men. Because the moment I get out of this chair, I'm going to paint this floor with your blood."

“But guess what, you know this mysterious young alpha from the Hart family right?” “You mean alpha Lucien?” “Yes, I don’t know what she did but she managed to hook up with him and now she is shamelessly clinging to him.” “How can she have no shame? But I have heard that, that man Lucien is very powerful and very ruthless. If anyone dares to play tricks on him, they will die without knowing how!”

Offering. Alexandro closed his eyes. He imagined Lucia. Not in a sexy pose. But in her ordinary state. Lucia reading a book on the sofa, glasses on her nose, hair tied back, no makeup, no expensive clothes. He couldn't do it. He opened his eyes. The posters were still there. Still smiling. Still tempting. Alexandro felt something rise in his throat—not arousal, but nausea. He almost vomited. He went out again. Fabio was still in the hallway. "Ale..."

“And you will not break. Not while I’m still breathing.” The power of his words left me momentarily breathless. My heart raced against my chest, louder than the clash of our weapons. Before I could reply, the door to the yard flew open. Matteo rushed in, looking pale. “He’s made his move.” Nikolai and I turned sharply. “What move?” Nikolai asked. Matteo held out a crumpled flyer, the ink still glistening. The bold letters twisted my stomach: “Arturo De Luca — A New Dawn for Florence.”

Luca’s gaze never left me, as though he could see through every layer I’d carefully built around myself. “So, this is where you operate,” I said, breaking the silence, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. “A place of beauty, but also… power.” His lips curled into a small, amused smile. “I suppose you could say that. Art is an investment, after all. Much like everything else in my life.” I nodded, pretending to admire the paintings around us, though my mind was entirely focused on him. “And what does a billionaire mafia boss like yourself get out of it?”

“I don’t know. All of them?” “Is that possible?” “Maybe.” “Probably.” The sound of the conversation was fun, undertoning their killing intent. “Hello Luca, Ignat. Have fun, are we?” Albert wiggled his brow. “Is that even a question?” Luca grinned wide under the mask. “Should not be, though.” Ignat clicked his tongue and rubbed his chin. Albert managed a chuckle. “Alright. Sorry.” There could mean one thing if the trio was here. They have subdued all the threats.

Alpha Leonardo fingers brushed my hair. He whiffed. “This is the perfect idea. Sophia will be grateful for that.” His lips pressed against my forehead. Breaking off, he reached for Vogar, lifting and throwing him over his shoulder. Alpha Leonardo’s fingers locked with mine. We stormed out of the warehouse. The sun had already set. The cold breeze lashed my exposed skin as I entered the car, Lucy had left outside. After Alpha Leonardo was able to identify it among others. Alpha Leonardo fixed Vogar in the booth of the car, locking him in.

“Are you sure the Omega’s properly drugged with the experimental Luna Nera? This plan to fuck over that idiot Lorenzo can’t fail, or the Alpha skins us alive.” I froze solid when I heard the conversation between a man and... Luca.

“Don’t disappoint your namesake.” Alessandro is on the phone a few feet away, murmuring something in Italian. I recognize the clipped tone—it’s a business call, Mafia business, which he promised wouldn’t interrupt today. But of course, it has. It always does. I shift baby Luca onto my hip and scan the garden. Rosie is running barefoot on the grass, her curls bouncing, chasing Tim, who’s shrieking with laughter and clutching his juice like it’s his last defense. Alberto is seated under the gazebo with his sketchbook, nose scrunched in focus, capturing the chaos in charcoal. Who thought he would take to painting after his father?