Signed To The Mafia King - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

ALINA
The car ride was quiet.
I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the places we passed. I hadn’t been back to my father’s house since the wedding.
I hadn’t planned to return in a while, but now, here I was, heading straight there. My mother had refused to clean out my father’s study.
Months after his death and she still didn't want to. Though my parents' marriage had been arranged, she had come to like him intensely.
I wondered vaguely if that would ever happen for Luca and me.
Valentina broke the silence. “So? How did the meeting go?”
I tipped my head against the seat. “Roberto made a scene as usual. He pulled a gun on me.”
Valentina stared at me, shocked. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
A beat of silence. Then, “So what happened?”
I didn’t look at her. “Luca came in and ruined everything. I had it under control. I even told him not to come, but of course, he didn't listen.”
Valentina snorted. “By ruining everything, I guess you mean he saved your life?”
I frowned at her. “I had it covered. He came and made everything about him.”
Valentina laughed. “Of course, he did.”
I didn’t laugh. I didn't find it funny in any way. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had decided to leave me hanging. It was becoming a nasty habit.
Valentina gave me a side-eye. “I love men who stand on business.”
I rolled my eyes. “Then you can have him.”
Valentina laughed. “By all means, but will he have me?”
I didn’t answer. I was too tired for this conversation.
My thoughts went back to last night, to Luca’s father appearing out of nowhere, throwing his weight around like he still had control over anything.
He didn’t. Not over Luca. Not over me. Still, I didn’t like the way Luca had just shrugged it off, like it wasn’t a problem waiting to explode.
But that wasn’t my problem either.
I had bigger things to deal with today.
The car pulled through the gates of my father’s house and parked in front of the door. There were guards everywhere.
I stepped out first.
The house was just as I remembered. Tall and bigger than any family home should be. I had been happy here, though. My family had been happy here.
I wished again, like many times before, that my father was still alive.
Or that Adriano was old enough to take over as Capo. But he wasn't, and this was my responsibility now.
I entered the house with Piedro and Valentina. The scent hit me immediately. It was cigars and leather.
It smelled like my father. Like the past.
I sniffed the air, inhaling deeply. I really liked it.
I walked to my father's office. Valentina didn’t follow me upstairs. She went straight to the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder, “I’ll bring some cakes.”
I barely nodded. I just climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.
My father’s study was at the end of the hall, the dark wooden door looking just the way I remembered. I stood there for a moment, staring at it, feeling tight in my chest. Then I reached for the handle and pushed it open.
The smell from downstairs hit me right away.
Cigars. Expensive Cuban cigars.
I sucked in a breath, my throat closing up. After all this time, it was still there. It was in the air, the furniture, the walls. No matter how much they cleaned, no matter how many years passed, I was sure it would never go away.
My chest ached. Before I could stop myself, I started sobbing.
My knees became weak, and I lowered myself to the floor, pressing my back against the door.
I had been running from this.
From this feeling. From thinking about my father.
But here, in his space, surrounded by everything that had once been his, I couldn’t pretend anymore. He was gone. And I missed him so much that it hurt.
I pressed my palms against my face, breathing slowly, trying to get myself under control. But the ache wouldn’t leave. It sat in my ribs and made me sob harder.
Footsteps sounded in the hall.
I wiped my face fast and pulled myself up just as Valentina walked in, holding a plate of cakes.
She looked at me. “You good?”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t. “Let’s just do this.”
Valentina didn’t push. She set the plate on the desk and stretched her arms. “I’ll clear the bookshelves. You take the desk.”
I nodded, glad to have something to do.
I started sorting through the mess on the desk, moving papers, pens, old office supplies. My father had always been careful with his things, always keeping everything just the way he liked it.
I picked up a handful of staples, running my fingers over them before setting them aside.
My mind wandered.
What was Luca doing right now?
I frowned.
Why was I thinking about him?
I wiped the desk harder, trying to focus.
Why had I thought being his wife would be easy?
Why the hell had I thought that?
The door opened, and Piedro stepped in. “Boss,” he said, “Mikhail is on the phone.”
I let out a breath and wiped my hands on my jeans before grabbing the phone. “What is it?”
“I’m at the warehouse,” Mikhail said. “Something’s off.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It looks like someone extended the warehouse without permission.”
I sat up straighter. “That’s not possible.”
“Someone added a whole new room to the lease,” he said.
My frown deepened.
“Find out who,” I said. “But you’re probably wrong.”
I ended the call, though I wasn't feeling too worried. The Costa family had about 200 warehouses across the country. What was one more?
Mikhail was good at his job, maybe even too good.
I reached under the desk without thinking, running my fingers along the wood.
My hand hit something.
A latch.
A soft sound filled the room. Something shifting inside the desk.
I stopped and stared down. Then I looked up quickly, but Valentina was still busy, her nose buried in a book instead of cleaning the shelves.
My heart picked up.
I bent lower and looked at the desk. A small drawer had slid out from the side.
Inside was a diary.
And a stack of old checkbooks.