Chapter 142: 142 ~ Jace
The line didn’t ring long. It connected on the first buzz.
Silence stretched, heavy and deliberate, before that smooth, venom-laced voice filled my ear.
"Don Romano," Massimo drawled, drawing out the syllables like he had all the time in the world. "I hear possible congratulations are in order. A wife... and a weakness."
My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. I hated his voice. Too calm, too smug, like a man who thought he’d already won.
"What the fuck do you want?" I rasped, forcing each word through gritted teeth.
A low chuckle slid through the receiver. It was the kind of laugh that made men itch to spill blood. "Always impatient. Always sharp around the edges. But I’m calling because you and I...we have unfinished business."
I stepped toward the glass wall of the suite, the city glittering far below. My reflection stared back at me, jaw locked, eyes dark, the weight of the world pressing down. Behind me, Mira shifted slightly on the couch, oblivious.
"Get to the point," I snapped.
Massimo’s voice lowered, turning darker. "The game has changed. You’ve grown soft, Romano. Marriage? Domestic bliss? It’s almost sweet. But sweetness is rot in our world. It makes men weak."
A muscle twitched in my cheek. "Careful."
"You can’t protect her every second," he went on smoothly, ignoring my warning. "The moment you slip, and you will - I’ll be there. I’ll be watching. I’ll put a bullet where you’ll feel it most."
Rage flared with me. It hot and blinding. I wanted to reach through the phone, crush his throat with my bare hands. Instead, I forced the words out like steel. "Say her name again, and I’ll feed you to the dogs while you’re still breathing."
His laugh returned, colder this time. "So protective. So predictable. You see, that’s your weakness, Don. Love makes men predictable. And predictable men... are easy to kill. That document, those diamonds are going to belong to me."
The line went dead before I could respond.
I stared at the screen, my reflection distorted in the black glass. My chest heaved with uneven breaths, fury clawing at my insides. He wanted me rattled. He wanted me reckless. But all he’d done was ignite something far more dangerous.
I turned, and Mira was standing at the doorway, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Jace?" she whispered, voice soft, hesitant.
I shoved the phone into my pocket, locking the fury down tight. She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t know how close she was to being used as bait in a war she never asked for.
"I’m fine," I lied.
Her gaze searched mine, not buying it for a second. She came closer, bare feet padding across the rug, her nightgown brushing her knees. "You’re not fine. Something happened. Was that Massimo?"
My throat tightened. She was too intuitive, too perceptive. It was both her gift and my curse.
I reached for her before I could stop myself, wrapping my arms around her waist, pressing her flush against me. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent like it could drown out the poison Massimo had poured into my ear.
She gasped softly but didn’t pull away. Instead, she whispered against my chest, "What did he say? What does he want? Was he behind the attack on your mother?"
Mira asked so many questions at once, I didn’t even know what to say.
But I couldn’t tell her anything. Not yet. Not until I had figured it out. Harming my mom and trying to kill her yet again was something I didn’t anticipate. I thought of the possibility but I stupidly believed he knew better. He obviously didn’t.
"It’s nothing you need to worry about," I muttered, pressing a kiss into her hair. My voice was rough, unconvincing even to my own ears.
She leaned back to look at me, her hands resting against my chest. "Don’t shut me out, Jace. If we’re in this together, then we’re in it together. No secrets."
Her words cut through me sharper than Massimo’s threats. I wanted to tell her everything. How he’d promised to use her against me, how he’d made her the centerpiece of his war but the thought of seeing fear cloud her eyes was unbearable.
Instead, I kissed her. It was hard, desperate, possessive. My lips crashed against hers, swallowing the tremble in her breath. She clung to me like she felt the storm raging inside me.
But even as her warmth soothed me, my mind burned with Massimo’s voice. You can’t protect her every second.
Fuck him. I’d prove him wrong.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. I worked from the suite because I did not want to leave Mira’s side even once. Massimo was proving to be more of a problem than I anticipated. He knew my wife was my weakness and if anything happened to her, I would completely lose my mind.
Mira tried to distract me. I forced smiles and grins at her but in my mind there was a storm that was not going to settle anytime soon.
~
The next morning, the world didn’t feel lighter. If anything, the air was thicker.
I hadn’t slept. Not really. Mira had curled into me, peaceful as always. Her head rested on my chest, but my eyes had stayed open, staring into the dark. My arm had been around her the entire night, as if loosening it would somehow invite danger.
When dawn broke, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her. I stood at the window, watching the city stir to life, phone clutched in my hand.
Tomas’s name lit the screen before I even called him.
"Boss," he greeted. His tone was clipped, urgent. "You were right. Ricardo and Giulietta—they’re at each other’s throar. But..." He hesitated. "Massimo is circling. Word on the street is that he bought their compliance with some heavy cheques."
My jaw clenched. So Massimo thought he could build his empire on my ruins? Over my dead body.
Ricardo proved to be a swine. He had just lost his son and he had to be bought to take revenge. It was disgraceful.
"Keep feeding the fire between Ricardo and Giulietta," I ordered. "Make sure neither of them trusts the other long enough to look at me."
Tomas exhaled sharply. "Understood."
I ended the call and turned back to the bed. Mira had shifted in her sleep, her face half-buried in the pillow, her arm stretched across the empty space where I’d been. She looked fragile in that moment, too fragile for the life I’d dragged her into.
Massimo’s threat echoed again. The moment you slip, and you will - I’ll be there.
No. I wouldn’t slip. Not with her life hanging in the balance.
I walked back to her, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. She stirred faintly, her lips parting. Even in sleep, she whispered my name.
My chest tightened.
She was my greatest weakness. But she was also my greatest reason to survive.
And God help Massimo because if he touched her, there wouldn’t be enough left of him to bury.
Just as I was about to tuck my phone away, it buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Tomas.
The caller ID made my chest seize. It was the hospital.
I swiped instantly. "Romano."
"’Sir," the doctor’s voice came through, rushed but steady. "Your mother, she’s awake. She regained consciousness twenty minutes ago. We’ve stabilized her condition."
For a moment, I didn’t breathe. My hand clenched around the phone, and a hundred emotions surged all at once. There was relief, disbelief, rage at whoever had dared put her in that bed in the first place.
"She spoke?" I demanded.
"Yes. Weak, but coherent. She’s asking for you."
My throat tightened. I dragged a hand over my jaw, trying to process it. I had been preparing myself for the worst every single day since the attack. It had only been a few days but the possibility of losing her had been a shadow I couldn’t shake. And now, against every odd, she had clawed her way back.
"Keep her under guard. No one. And I mean no one gets near her without my say-so," I said firmly.
"Yes, sir."
When I ended the call, I turned and found Mira awake, blinking up at me sleepily from the bed. "What is it?" she whispered.
I exhaled slowly, the weight pressing on me shifting just enough for my chest to expand. "My mother. She’s awake."
Mira’s eyes widened, tears springing instantly. She scrambled upright, clutching the sheets to her chest. "Oh my God, Jace that’s incredible!"
I nodded, jaw tight. "It is. But it changes everything."
Because now I needed answers. Her perspective wold be different from anyone else. Massimo didn’t send his men, that I knew. He must have partnered with someone else. My mother would have names.
And when she gave them to me, the bloodbath that followed would be biblical.