Chapter Text
Lucanis
The party was a typical display of overindulgence and false camaraderie, where the laughter was too loud, the drinks too expensive, and the promises made in dark corners too dangerous to keep. The sprawling Vitale estate gleamed with an opulence that was designed to impress, but to Lucanis Dellamorte, it was all hollow– a veneer of power stretched too thin over the greed and motivation roiling beneath. He leaned against the marble-topped bar, his sharp suit a somber shade of midnight blue, tailored to blend in without drawing attention. His tie, a deep blood red, was the only hint of rebellion– a subtle warning to anyone who thought to push too hard.
He sipped a whiskey he didn’t particularly want, letting the burn slide down his throat as he watched the room with practiced detachment. Every glance, every lingering smile, every measured laugh– it was a symphony of deceit. Lucanis knew the notes by heart.
This was his world: crowded rooms full of people he didn’t trust, all pretending to like people they’d gladly stab in the back. The air was thick with perfume, cigarette smoke, and ambition, everyone jostling for a chance to impress the family that held Brooklyn in its iron grip. The Dellamorte name carried weight here, spoken in hushed, reverent tones that were equal parts fear and admiration. As Caterina Dellamorte’s enigmatic grandson, Lucanis was more than a whisper; he was the shadow that moved through their secrets, the blade that struck without warning.
And tonight, he was the prey.
“Lucanis,” a voice purred behind him, smooth as velvet but weighted with intent. He turned just enough to see Maria Vitale, the heir apparent to the Vitale empire, sidling up beside him. Her dress shimmered like liquid gold, striking against her deep, brown skin, the silk clinging to her in all the ways she knew would command attention. She was smiling, but her eyes– ever sharp, concise, and far too self-assured– betrayed her.
“Maria,” he greeted, his tone polite but indifferent. He offered a perfunctory, tight smile, tipping his glass toward her.
“You’re hard to pin down these days,” she said, leaning closer than necessary, her cloying, sweet perfume enveloping him like a trap. “Rumor has it you’ve been keeping busy.”
He chuckled, low and quiet, more a reflex than a response. “Rumor’s not wrong.”
The truth was, Lucanis had been keeping busy– far busier than he wanted. Caterina Dellamorte had a knack for finding ways to occupy his time. A soft word here, a discreet hit there. Every move was strategic, another step in a game he hadn’t chosen to play but was too good at to ignore. He was her favorite piece on the board. Talented, reliable, and most importantly, loyal.
But loyalty was a heavy chain, and Lucanis was beginning to feel its weight with every passing year.
Maria’s smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her tone light but with an edge that hinted at frustration.
“I’ve been working,” he replied smoothly, setting his glass down on the bar with a deliberate slowness. “You know how it is. No rest for the wicked.”
“Wicked,” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue like a promise– or a treat. “Is that what you are, Lucanis?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting over her shoulder to the crowd beyond. Somewhere in this room, his cousin Illario was likely charming his way into someone’s pocket, or their pants, while Caterina observed it all from a distance, a wolf among sheep. This was the world they’d been born into, a world where power wasn’t given but taken– earned through blood and sacrifice.
“Depends on who you ask,” he said finally, meeting her gaze again. “But I doubt you’d lose any sleep over it either way.”
Maria’s laugh was a soft, melodic thing, calculated to disarm. “Oh, you wound me, Lucanis. I’m simply trying to get to know you better.” She leaned in closer, her bust just brushing his arm, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “After all, isn’t that what tonight’s about? Building alliances?”
His jaw tightened, though his expression remained unreadable. He knew what she wanted– what her father wanted. A union between the Vitale and Dellamorte families would be a show of power, a consolidation of influence. But Lucanis wasn’t a chess piece to be moved at someone else’s whim, no matter how much gold shimmered in front of him.
“Careful, Maria,” he said, his voice low, almost dangerous. “You are starting to sound like you think I am for sale.”
Her smile faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, tilting her head as if amused. “Not at all. But alliances aren’t bought. They’re earned.”
His lips twitched into something that could almost pass for a smile, though there was nothing friendly about it. “Good luck with that.”
He let Maria continue talking, her words flowing like honey as she tried to draw him into a conversation about alliances and opportunities. He nodded in the right places, gave vague answers that sounded thoughtful, but his mind was elsewhere. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd again, noting who was talking to whom, who was lingering by the exits, who was keeping their hands too close to their pockets.
Across the room, a man he didn’t recognize– a newcomer– was laughing loudly, his hand resting on the shoulder of one of Caterina’s trusted lieutenants. Lucanis’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. This was how it always started: someone trying too hard, pushing too fast. He could already see how this would play out, could predict the mess he’d be called in to clean up when things inevitably went south.
The thrill that had once come with the work– the slick edge of danger, the satisfaction of a clean kill– was long gone. Now it was just another task, another burden to bear. Lucanis had become an artist of death, but the gallery of his life felt empty.
Maria’s voice pulled him back to the moment. “You should stop by more often,” she was saying, her hand hovering near his arm suggestively, like she ached to put in on him. “People notice when you’re not around.”
“People notice or you notice?” he questioned impassively, his tone light but edged with something she couldn’t quite place.
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and Lucanis felt a flicker of satisfaction. It was petty, but he’d take what he could get.
Before she could press further, a figure appeared at his side– a young man in a black suit, his face flushed from either the heat or the drink. “Lucanis,” he said urgently. “Your grandmother wants a word.”
Of course she did.
Lucanis downed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the bar with a soft clink. “Excuse me,” he said to Maria, his voice once more smooth, but final.
As he followed the messenger through the crowd, weaving past smiling faces and whispered deals, he felt the familiar tension in his chest. Caterina never summoned him without reason. Whatever she wanted, it wouldn’t be simple. It never was.
The crowd parted for him, as it always did. Some of the more ambitious players in the room attempted fleeting eye contact or murmured greetings as he passed. Most, however, avoided his gaze, retreating into the safety of their drinks and conversations. Lucanis knew the reputation that preceded him– a shadow cast by his skill, his loyalty, and the quiet ruthlessness that kept him in Caterina’s favor. They whispered about him in the same way they spoke of the specter of death: with equal parts fear and begrudging respect.
Lucanis followed the young messenger out of the noisy party and into a quieter hallway where Caterina Dellamorte waited. Her presence was as commanding as ever, a woman whose age had only sharpened her mind. She sat at the edge of a velvet chair, her hands resting on the silver head of her cane. Despite the noise from the party, there was an eerie calm around her– an aura that demanded veneration.
“You saw him,” she said without preamble, her voice soft but focused.
Lucanis nodded, knowing exactly who she meant. “The guy with Vincenzo. His name is–”
“His name doesn’t matter,” she said in a clipped tone. “What matters is that he’s an issue. He thinks he can come here, laugh loudly, make himself too familiar.” She leaned forward slightly, her pale eyes locking onto his. “Issues like him don’t walk out of my parties alive.”
Lucanis exhaled silently. The request wasn’t unexpected, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d been doing this for years– snuffing out threats, cleaning up messes before they had a chance to spread. He’d perfected the art of the discreet kill, and yet, tonight, the weight of it felt particularly heavy.
“Yes, Nonna,” he said, his voice steady.
Caterina smiled faintly. “Good boy.”
Outside, the night was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the party’s enveloping heat. Lucanis followed the man to a secluded alley behind the venue, his footsteps soundless against the pavement. The stranger, still riding the high of cheap gin and his own overconfidence, didn’t even notice he was being followed until it was too late.
Lucanis moved swiftly, catching the man by the back of the neck and slamming him against the brick wall. The man let out a startled gasp, his bravado crumbling instantly.
“Wait– wait! I didn’t–”
Lucanis didn’t let him finish. His blade was already out, pressed lightly against the man’s throat. “Shh,” he murmured, almost gently. “This’ll go faster if you don’t struggle.”
The man froze, his eyes wide with fear. Lucanis hesitated for the span of a heartbeat, a strange feeling curling in his chest. Once, he’d taken a grim satisfaction in moments like this– the precision, the control, the heady awareness that he was the best at what he did. But now? Now it all felt empty.
With a quick, practiced motion, he slit the exposed throat, holding him steady as the body went limp. Lucanis eased the dying man to the ground, avoiding the pooling blood with mechanical efficiency.
For a moment, he stared at the body, his face impassive but his mind reeling. There was no thrill in this anymore, no sense of accomplishment. Just the nagging thought that maybe he wasn’t so different from the lifeless man before him– just another tool to be used and discarded by Caterina Dellamorte.
When he returned to Caterina, her satisfaction was evident in the faint upward curve of her lips. “It’s done,” he said simply, his tone neutral.
“Good.” She reached out and patted his cheek lightly, as if he were a child who’d aced a test. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, my boy.”
He inclined his head, the picture of obedience, and turned away. Behind him, the soft murmur of her approval lingered like a faint stain in the air. The party roared on around him– laughter that grated on his nerves, voices emboldened by ambition and wine– but none of it held his interest. All he wanted was to escape, to shed the suffocating weight of expectation and drown himself in the anonymity of the city streets.
He had almost reached the exit when Maria’s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. Again. “Lucanis.”
Her tone was playful, her approach deliberate. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. She stood under the low, warm lights, her golden dress catching every flicker of movement. Her painted lips curved upward as she closed the distance between them, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and something more dangerous. “Leaving so soon?” she teased, tilting her head as if to charm him into staying.
Lucanis’s gaze lingered briefly, but there was no stir of interest. She was a vision, yes– but like so many others before her, blurring into the faceless crowd of those who thought allure or assertiveness were enough to hold his attention. “The night’s young,” he replied politely, his tone cool, distant. “But I’ve had my fill.”
Maria’s smile didn’t waver. She stepped closer, her perfume– a heavy, floral scent– still wafting around her. Her fingers grazed the lapel of his suit, tracing the fabric as if she had every right to. “Oh, come now. Don’t be such a bore. A man like you shouldn’t be going home alone.”
Lucanis forced a faint smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maria, I am flattered,” he allowed, stepping back to create space before continuing firmly. “But I am not interested.”
For a moment, the mask of charm slipped. Her expression tightened, irritation flashing in her hazel eyes before she smoothed it over with a pout. “You’re always so serious,” she cooed, closing the gap again. “Let me help you loosen up. Just for tonight.”
He moved to step around her, but her hand shot out, curling around his arm with surprising force. Her nails bit into the fabric of his sleeve, her grip unrelenting. The flirtation in her expression evaporated, replaced by something colder– sharper.
“Maria,” he scowled, his voice dropping into a warning growl. “Let. Go.”
But she didn’t. Her stained lips split into a dangerous smirk, and for the first time, her veneer of coyness cracked to reveal the avarice beneath. “Why not?” she challenged, her voice low and daring. “You’re Caterina Dellamorte’s golden boy. Everyone knows you’re untouchable. A man like you deserves someone who can match him.”
Her words cut deeper than she likely intended, carving into the core of what he despised about this life: the constant undercurrent of manipulation, the way people like Maria saw him not as a man but as a rung on their ladder of aspiration. Something inside him frayed– not in anger, but in sheer, bone-deep exhaustion.
He moved without thinking, his hand snapping to her wrist as he spun her around and pinned her against the wall. The shift was so sudden, so seamless, that Maria let out a startled gasp, her confidence finally faltering. Lucanis’s free hand came up, his fingers pressing against her throat– not quite enough to truly hurt her, but enough to make his point.
Her eyes widened, genuine fear flickering across her face for the first time. The hum of the party faded into the background, distant and meaningless. In this moment, it was just the two of them, her breathing shallow and uneven, his grip steady and unyielding.
“Listen carefully,” he said, his voice like jagged ice. “I am not your prize. I am not your game. You do not ever touch me unless I say so. Do you understand?”
Maria’s breath hitched. She nodded, her movements jerky, her bravado dissolving under the weight of his gaze.
Satisfied, Lucanis released her, stepping back smoothly. She stayed pressed against the wall, her hand instinctively flying to her throat. Her glare was venomous now, her pride clearly stung, but she said nothing. Words wouldn’t save her here, not against him.
He didn’t linger. Turning on his heel, he strode away, each step purposeful. The air in the hallway felt cooler, cleaner, as he put space between himself and the cloying warmth of the party. His jaw tightened as he entered the marble-lined corridor leading to the bathroom.
In the faint reflection of the polished walls, he caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were shadowed, the faint lines around his mouth deeper than usual. He leaned against the sink, gripping its edge until his knuckles whitened.
This was what his life had become: endless performances, shallow connections, people like Maria clawing at him for a piece of something they didn’t understand. He didn’t feel victorious. He didn’t feel anything at all.
The water ran cold as he splashed it on his face, his reflection rippling on the surface. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it might feel like to leave all of this behind– the politics, the posturing, the hollow satisfaction of a job well done. But that thought was dangerous, and Lucanis knew better than to entertain it.
When he finally straightened and adjusted his suit, his expression was once again unreadable, the mask firmly in place. The golden boy. The untouchable shadow. The tool Caterina could wield with precision.
For now, that would have to be enough.
He had barely stepped out of the bathroom when a voice, husky and pointed, cut through the hum of the party.
“Let me guess– one of the many perks of being Lucanis Dellamorte is always having to say no politely. Or not so politely, judging by Maria Vitale’s neck.”
He stopped, turning toward the source of the comment. One glance told him she didn’t belong here.
Her dress, while elegant, wasn’t designer. It hugged her curves in a way that suggested it had adapted to her, not the other way around– worn enough to fit like a second skin. And curves, she had in abundance. His gaze flicked down briefly, taking in the sneakers she wore with unrepentant practicality. The canvas matched the blue of her dress perfectly, but the juxtaposition was a serene rebellion against the heels and stilettos scattered across the room. She wore only a single piece of jewelry, though it was quite a fine piece, the pendant carrying the facade of a dark, large bird. A crow, maybe a raven? Her makeup, faintly smudged, bore the telltale marks of someone who’d wiped at it absentmindedly, unbothered by imperfections.
She was leaning casually against the wall a few feet from the bathroom door, her legs crossed, her posture relaxed. She hadn’t been there when he went in.
So, she’d followed him.
Lucanis dragged his gaze back to her face, his curiosity piqued. Where others might have preened under his scrutiny or turned coy, she simply returned his leer with a faint, knowing smile, as though she had no intention of playing the game.
“Would you believe me if I told you that was polite?” he said evenly, his tone as cautious as the flicker of interest she’d sparked.
“In fact, I would .” Her bright interest belied the softness of her voice, low enough that Lucanis found himself stepping closer, drawn in by her quiet confidence. As he neared, a faint scent of lavender and honey reached him, subtle but arresting. He couldn’t tell if it was perfume or just her, but it settled in his senses like the first step into a place you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.
She held a glass of club soda in one hand and a neatly folded napkin in the other. Dipping the cloth into her drink, she lifted it, her movements deliberate. Then she paused, her hand hovering just shy of his chest. Her penetrating eyes flicked up through dark lashes, the question hanging in the air. “May I?” she murmured, demure but unflinching.
Lucanis studied her, his silence stretching out longer than necessary. Maria’s previous attempt to entrap him aside, he wasn’t accustomed to moments like this– or to women like her. Sex and romance were incidental at best, rare indulgences that came with too high a price. His life allowed no room for attachment, and he’d long ago decided that without a deeper connection, such encounters felt more chore than pleasure.
But he wasn’t blind. And he wasn’t made of stone. Everything about this woman– from her untamed beauty to the way she occupied space with unapologetic ease– seemed designed to test his resolve.
He inclined his head in silent permission.
Her gaze dropped to his chest as she dabbed the damp cloth against his lapel. The coolness seeped through the fabric, but her hand slipped beneath, pressing against his chest lightly to keep the water from spreading. It wasn’t the chill he noticed, but her touch, fleeting and gentle. Her hand lingered for several seconds, steady and focused, while Lucanis studied her unabashedly in silence.
Her short hair, the fiery hues of a sunset, was braided close to her scalp, though stray wisps defied the effort, softening the sharpness of her features. A thin, silvery scar began just below her left eye, dragging down in a faintly jagged line toward the curve of her jaw. She wore no make-up to cover it, and it caught the light subtly, a reminder of something violent and ruthless, though it did nothing to diminish the quiet determination etched into her face. There was something bold and daring about her leaving it bared, as if she was challenging someone to ask her about it. Her blue eyes, set against the faintest dusting of freckles, gleamed with veiled amusement, even as she seemed intent on her task. He inhaled slowly, evenly, though his heart hammered in his chest like the aftermath of a near-miss.
After a few more seconds, she pulled the cloth away, revealing a faint dappling of red on its surface. Blood. He stilled, watching her repeat the motion once, twice, thrice more, her care measured, precise. When she finally stepped back, disposing of the glass and the napkin, her radiant smile returned, as though she hadn’t just disarmed him in ways he couldn’t explain.
“Hard to be discreet when you wear your work for the world to see,” she said lightly, though there was a knowing edge to her words. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but her voice held a weight that lingered.
Lucanis’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her, his expression inscrutable. She was striking– not in the obvious, cultivated way of the socialites flitting around the room, but in a way that seemed unintended. Out of place. He should have dismissed her and walked away, but something about her had him hesitating. Something about the way she held herself– defiant, yet guarded– lured him dangerously close to intrigue. “Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than he intended.
She hesitated, her confidence flickering for just a heartbeat. Her gaze dropped, and she crossed her arms again, though this time the motion seemed more for protection than poise. “I’m no one important,” she said softly, the words carrying a faint, breathy laugh that didn’t quite convince him. The toe of her shoe bounced against the floor behind her anxiously.
His head tilted slightly, a predatory edge to the motion as he studied her. It wasn’t often he came across someone who piqued his interest for reasons beyond calculation. He shouldn’t care. He told himself he didn’t care. But the way she moved, the way she shifted between boldness and vulnerability, was enough to keep him rooted where he stood.
She continued to hold her arms around herself, closed off, though the sparkle seemed to be returning to her eyes as she watched him analyze her, like it amused her. Her magnetism, her alluring charisma, the way she struck an off-chord amidst a too-perfect melody left him with a strange ache for more. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe that,” he said, his voice almost intimate. His gaze swept over her, but not in the way Lucanis was sure men often looked at her. He wasn’t just admiring– he was dissecting, pulling her apart in his mind to see how she might fit together. “No one important doesn’t end up here by accident.”
She looked back at him then, her eyes meeting his– sharp and assessing. For a moment, he thought she might push back, might try to throw his own intensity back at him. But instead, her face softened, a small smile curving her lips. It wasn’t playful, nor was it yielding; it was a willful choice, as if she had deigned him worthy in some inscrutable sense. Lucanis couldn’t remember the last time someone had unsettled him this way. “Rook,” she offered finally, an indecipherable tone threading through her voice. “Call me Rook.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes flicked briefly to the necklace again. A rook. “A false name,” he said, his voice neutral, as if the lie were so obvious it wasn’t even worth addressing.
“It’s the only one you’re getting,” she replied smoothly, her smile now edged with challenge.
Silence stretched between them, each waiting for the other to concede. He let the lie stand– for now. He could afford to indulge her, though the imbalance grated at him. She knew his name, and she had chosen to keep hers hidden. That spoke volumes, though he couldn’t yet decipher the message.
“And what brings you here tonight, Rook?” he asked, letting her name roll off his tongue like a test.
Her eyes sparkled, the lingering glint of amusement breaking through her inscrutability. “Does that rough growl of a voice always get you the information you want? I heard it was your cousin who was the charmer,” she teased.
Lucanis stepped closer, closing the space between them with measured intent. He saw her catch her breath, saw the flicker of instinctive fear that mirrored what he’d seen in Maria earlier. But unlike Maria, the fear wasn’t real– it evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only curiosity and something like defiance. He didn’t touch her, not yet, but his arm rose to plant his hand against the wall beside her head, his presence a deliberate cage.
“Who are you, Rook?” Lucanis pressed, his indulgence gone, his voice low and implacable.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not in anger. It was more like she was evaluating him, weighing her next move with care. When she spoke, her voice was calm, steady, and, most surprisingly, soothing. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, as if she could sense the tension coiling beneath his skin. “I didn’t mean to set off alarm bells. I should have known better.”
She raised her hand slowly, her movements unhurried and cautious, her palm hovering inches from his chest as she glanced at him for permission once more. It wasn’t fear that guided her hesitation but respect, or perhaps prudence. His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough for her.
Her touch landed over his chest, warm and steady, and he was sure she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, a surrender he found himself unable to cease. The soft concession in her gesture– the apology, the careful placement of her hand– should have mollified him, and in a way, it did. But it also sent something primal coursing through him, a heady rush of control and desire that he wasn’t entirely prepared for.
“I’m an advisor to Giancarlo Vitale,” she continued gingerly, her voice even. “I’m here at his behest. I don’t usually attend these events, and I forgot my place for a moment. I spoke out of line.”
Her explanation alone was sufficient, but it was the way she spoke it– the delicacy, the subtle submission tempered with steel– that undid him. Rook wasn’t cowering, wasn’t pleading; she was offering him just enough accountability to lower his guard while still keeping herself firmly on equal footing.
Lucanis’s gaze lingered on her hand, then flicked back to her face. For a moment, he considered calling her bluff, prying deeper into the cracks she was so carefully hiding. But instead, he exhaled slowly, the stress in his shoulders loosening as he leaned back slightly, freeing her from the cage of his proximity. Freeing himself from the temptation in her touch.
“Apology accepted,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, though no less commanding.
But as he stepped back, he couldn’t help but wonder: who was this woman, this enigma who challenged him and melted him in the same breath? And why, even now, did he find himself wanting more?
Rook’s hand lingered a moment longer before she too pulled away, stepping sideways to reclaim some of the space between them. Lucanis let her retreat, though his gaze didn’t leave her. Her movements were poised, cautious, as if she could still feel the weight of his attention pressing against her.
A voice from across the room interrupted the moment. “Rook,” a man called, his tone clipped with authority. Lucanis shifted his focus to the source of the beckon– a finely dressed gentleman with the look of someone accustomed to giving orders. Rook turned toward the sound, her expression tightening ever so slightly, though she masked it quickly with a polite smile.
“I’m being summoned,” she said, sounding almost disappointed, her eyes flicking back to Lucanis. “I believe we’ll meet again, Mr. Dellamorte.”
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither moved. Then she turned and walked away, her stride purposeful, her head held high. Lucanis watched her until she disappeared into the crowd, her presence lingering like the faint scent of something intoxicating.
He let out a slow breath and adjusted his collar, forcing his focus back to the task at hand. Rook had unsettled him, but there were more pressing matters to deal with tonight– his escape would continue being delayed. As he moved through the crowd, his sharp gaze landed on Maria, standing off to the side. She watched him with a mixture of bitterness and satisfaction, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Lucanis felt his lips curve into an arrogant smirk, intentional and cutting, as his eyes dropped briefly to the shadow of a bruise blooming against her throat. It pleased him to see it– a visible reminder of her failure to test him and his control. The flicker of uncertainty in her expression was enough to tell him she regretted her boldness. Good. Let her stew on it.
He walked past her without a word, his satisfaction lingering as he left her behind. He turned his focus toward the private wing, where he knew Caterina would be waiting.
As he approached the door to the study, Lucanis steeled himself. She would have heard about Maria by now; nothing escaped her attention for long. He felt a flicker of annoyance at himself for letting the situation escalate, though he had no regrets about his actions. Maria had overstepped, and he had acted as he always did– with precision and finality.
He knocked once and entered at Caterina’s call. She sat behind a wide mahogany desk, a glass of wine in her hand and an inscrutable expression on her face. Her sharp eyes rose to meet his, and Lucanis closed the door behind him, offering a slight bow.
“Nonna,” he greeted, his tone considerate.
“Lucanis.” Her voice was smooth, calm, but there was a knowing edge to it that immediately put him on guard. “I trust the incident with Maria has been dealt with?”
“It has,” he replied, his voice terse but respectful. “She won’t be an issue again. I can explain if necessary.”
Caterina waved a hand dismissively, leaning back in her chair. “I trust your judgment, as always. Though I do hope you exercised restraint– these situations require a certain... finesse.”
Lucanis allowed himself a tight smile. “I acted appropriately under the circumstances.”
“Good.” She sipped her wine, studying him over the rim of the glass. “I’d like you to remain for a meeting I’ll be having shortly.”
“A meeting?” Lucanis echoed, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Yes.” Her tone was light, but there was an unmistakable finality to it. “Some of our associates have requested my attention, and I think it would be... prudent for you to hear what they have to say.”
Lucanis nodded, though the weariness tugging at him deepened. It wasn’t unusual for Caterina to involve him in such matters, but tonight he had hoped to be free of the endless politicking that defined so much of her world. Still, her word was law, and he would obey without question.
“Of course,” he said evenly.
Caterina’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, as if she were searching for something. Then she smiled faintly, a predator’s smile. “You’ve had an eventful night, Lucanis. I trust you’ll manage to keep your focus.”
“Always,” he replied, his tone unshakable.
But as he stepped back into the hall to wait, he couldn’t help but think of Rook– her name, her touch, the challenge in her smile. No matter how much he tried to push her from his mind, she lingered, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.
Yet, as the door to Caterina’s study clicked shut behind him, Lucanis shifted back into work mode, his focus narrowing to the task at hand. Whatever this meeting entailed, he would be ready.