Chapter 573: There Is Always An Emergency

Marco glanced up with a small chuckle. "There is always an emergency, Val." He looked back at the phone, thumb moving calmly across the screen. "Just need to send a quick text. Nothing big."

Nothing big.

Only a lie small enough to test whether his marriage was standing on solid ground or sinking quietly beneath him.

He shot a message to his burner phone, keeping his posture lazy. The text sent.

’Location on the case will be sent soon. You move tonight.’

A baited hook.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

If Valentina had nothing to hide, it would remain just another message on his phone. But if she took the bait...

Marco did not finish the thought. He could not. "Smells delicious," he said, setting the phone face down on the bed as though he had lost interest in it. "I’ll just have a shower." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He pulled back and walked towards the bathroom. He stepped inside, left the door slightly open, and waited.

He turned on the shower but did not get in. Instead, he positioned himself just beside the door, body angled, breath held low, listening.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Only the shower running. Then he heard a subtle shift of fabric.

The soft shuffle of feet.

"Babe!" Valentina’s voice called from the bedroom.

"Yes, love!"

"I’m going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

"Sure," he answered.

The bedroom door closed. Quickly, he stepped out of the bathroom. Her phone was gone from the bedside table.

His own phone still lay on the bed, screen face down exactly where he had left it. Marco inhaled slowly. He opened the bedroom door slowly and quietly, he kept his movements light.

*****

Luca reached for his vibrating phone with his free hand, because his wife had claimed the other one.

That was how sleep worked in his marriage now. Veronica did not simply sleep beside him. She occupied him. Wrapped herself around whatever part of his body she found useful and settled there.

His arm was trapped beneath her head. One of her legs was tangled with his, and her cheek was pressed against him.

The phone vibrated again against the bedside table. First, he checked the time.

2 a.m.

Why the fuck was Marco calling him at such an odd hour? There were very few acceptable reasons to call him at two in the morning. Death was one. A direct attack was another. Everything else could wait until daylight like a civilised problem.

He answered the call and placed the phone to his ear. He did not speak only listened. Marco said two words.

"Commissioned... Now."

The line went dead. Luca looked down at his sleeping wife. The hard work would be disentangling himself from her without waking her.

Waking his pregnant wife unnecessarily felt like a war crime. Carefully, he shifted. Just a little. Veronica made a small sound and tightened against him.

"Bambola," he whispered, though she could not hear him. "You have to let me go for one minute." He moved again, mindful of her bandaged hand. He slid his arm from beneath her only an inch, then another. When that proved impossible without disturbing her, he gently rolled her onto her back, making sure his warmth did not leave her too suddenly. He tucked a pillow against her side, replacing his body with fabric.

She frowned in her sleep. When Veronica settled, he slowly pulled his arm free. Then he got off the bed.

He pulled the covers snugly over her and dressed quickly in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Before leaving, he leaned over the bed, placed a small kiss on Vee’s stomach first then he kissed her forehead. "I’ll be back," he whispered.

Half an hour later, Luca pulled into Commissioned’s garage. The club above was still alive. Even through the concrete and distance, he could feel the pulse of it.

He made a mental note to check how things were going up there one of these days. He took the steps down to the underground offices. The deeper he went, the quieter everything became. The music faded.

Marco’s office door was closed. Luca opened it and found Marco sitting on the ground, knees drawn up at a sharp angle, arms resting loosely over them, staring blankly at the board in front of him.

That told Luca everything. Luca stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him. He did not even need to look at the board before he knew Marco had found out.

Still, his eyes moved there. Valentina’s name sat in the middle of the mess. Luca sucked in a breath. He said nothing.

Instead, he moved to Marco’s bar. He reached for the strongest thing there, a bottle of Macallan Rare Cask, because if there was ever a night for expensive whisky, it was this one.

He pulled out the stopper, poured a generous measure into two glasses. He carried both glasses back across the room and placed one beside Marco on the floor before lowering himself to sit next to him.

"You knew," Marco said simply.

Luca stared at the board. "What do you think?" He took a drink.

The whisky burned beautifully. Marco closed his eyes.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

Luca’s fingers tightened around his glass. "Because..." he began, then stopped.

There were many answers. Because Valentina was your wife. Because Veronica was her sister.

He exhaled. "Because I had to find a way where I did not end up losing you and hurting my wife."

"Yeah," Marco said quietly. "Both are inevitable, Luca." His face was pale beneath the exhaustion. something in him had folded. He looked like a man standing in the ashes of his own house.

"I told you not to bother," Luca said.

"Donna asked me to."

Luca let out a slow breath and looked towards the ceiling.

Veronica.

What the hell was he going to do with that woman?

"How did you connect the dots?" Luca asked.

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