Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 123: I Do Not Owe You

Luca stretched, freeing himself from the rest of the bindings. He rose and walked toward Julian with a fluid, predatory grace

"I didn’t ask you for a favor," Luca said. "You get nothing from me. I do not owe you."

"Why? The devil afraid of collecting debts?" Julian snarled poisonously.

Luca’s jaw tightened. "Fuck you, Julian. And now that I think about it, I should have gutted you."

Julian stepped closer, the air between them sparking. "I am willing to let this tiny disrespect go, Luca. Because I just found out you are personally handing me the rope to hang you with." A thin smile cut across his face, sharp as a blade catching light. Then he turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing against the deck in the tune of a countdown.

Luca stood there a second longer, chest rising, fury fizzing under his skin. Rope? What rope?

Fuck it.

He rolled his shoulders, shoving the irritation aside. He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of this place. Vienna felt smaller every time he returned, the walls leaning in just to watch him breathe.

His phone vibrated again in his pocket. It had buzzed several times while he was strapped to that chair, but there had been bigger problems then. He pulled it out now, ready to bark at whoever thought their issue mattered more than family discipline.

Debit notifications.

His black card.

The one he had given Veronica.

A slow smile tugged at his mouth.

"What are you doing, little vixen?" he muttered under his breath, amusement replacing irritation. Was she planning to bankrupt him out of spite? Spend him into a coma?

He disembarked the yacht, the cool air caressing his heated skin. The wharf complex hummed with activity, forklifts whining, crates shifting, men moving. This was to his father what Commissioned was to him. This was Don Genovese’s powerhouse where he ruled with metal, money and fear.

He still needed to speak to his father before leaving.

The office door was already open when Luca approached. Inside, his father sat behind the massive desk authoritatively.

Luca closed the door behind him and remained standing.

"Luciano... I’m guessing an heir should be expected soon. I am informed your wife was quite vocal last night," Don said calmly in the tone of voice one used when discussing shipment volumes.

"I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet, Father."

"Tell me," Don continued, steepling his fingers. "Was she untouched as expected?"

"Yes, Father."

A slow nod. "Good. I was afraid your brother would get there before you."

Luca gave a faint casual shrug borne from boredom of the topic.

"You do not seem to mind your brother’s stupid obsession with your wife," Don observed.

"Maybe she should have been married to him instead."

"She was betrothed to you long ago, Luciano. What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing." He inhaled, then let it out slowly. "I need to speak with you about something else."

Don lifted a hand slightly. "We will. First, we discuss the issue of your mistress."

Luca exhaled through his nose. "Dad, it’s inconsequential. Like I said, it’s just someone who keeps me company. Nothing more to it."

"Inconsequential," Don repeated softly, tasting the word judgementally. "Look," Don said at last, leaning forward. "You may not know it, but you are my legacy. You will raise the next Don. You need to rise beyond fault, Luciano. I know your brother thinks I am being unfair, but you..." His eyes sharpened intensely. "You are made of steel. You are me. And in your hands, I hand our future."

Luca held his father’s gaze. Steel. That was the word everyone used for him. As if he had been forged instead of born. "I need you to back off, Father," Luca said, a subtle edge of steel beneath the words. His eyes were fixed on Don, unblinking, unyielding.

"Excuse me?" Don’s brow lifted slightly, the faintest curl of surprise breaking his otherwise unshakable composure.

"Sending Ricardo to take over from Marco without informing me first. Involving yourself in my business. You trust me to handle the familia, then let me handle it," Luca continued.

Don exhaled slowly, leaning back in his massive chair. That calm, calculating presence that had intimidated every one in the familia faltered just a fraction when dealing with Luca. What he loved about this boy—the arrogance, the steel, the fire—was also what irritated him when it was aimed directly at him. "Fine," Don said. "Anything else?"

"Yes. I’m leaving."

"You’ve barely been here. Does your wife know about this?" Don asked.

"I didn’t come here for her. I came here to talk to you," Luca said.

"When is she coming to New York to be with you?" Don persisted.

"When the dust settles," Luca replied.

"Make it soon," Don said dismissively, spinning his chair slightly to retreat behind the fortress of his desk, his fingers already dancing across the keyboard. The conversation was over.

"Goodbye, Father," Luca said. He exited the office with the same grace that marked his every movement.

By the time he reached the garage, a luxury car was waiting. Luca slid into the seat.

Curiosity got the better of him. He pulled his phone from his pocket, black screen lighting up with a faint glow in the otherwise dim interior of the vehicle. He swiped open the transaction details on his black card. His eyebrows lifted.

What in the hell was she buying?

The list scrolled endlessly.

Luca smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. Vee had his card, and she was turning it into an art form of revenge.

He scrolled through the transactions again, watching the names of boutiques, high-end appliance stores, even a few service companies flash by. Then the last one caught him off guard, pulled him up short: an adult store. His fingers froze above his phone for a heartbeat. An adult store?

Curiosity spiked through him. What exactly was she buying? His pulse kicked up a notch, blood humming in his ears. He didn’t even think—he just reached into his contacts, typed in her name, Bambola, and hit dial.

(Here is to 200 power stones. We made it!!!)

*So, I know I said I wouldn’t be writing today but I couldn’t help myself. Missy Dionne, I love you so so much. you always come through to pick me out of my bullshit. Reading comments just seems to pick me out of my funk almost immediately. Thank you all so much.