POV: Marco
The restaurant Arianna chooses is the kind that doesn’t advertise.
No sign out front. No menu posted online. You’re either told where it is, or you don’t belong inside. The maître d’ doesn’t ask for my name when I arrive—just inclines his head and leads me through a narrow corridor that opens into a private dining room overlooking the river, candlelight reflecting off dark glass and polished wood.
Arianna is already there.
She stands when I enter, dressed in something understated and expensive, hair loose around her shoulders. Nothing excessive. Nothing accidental. Her smile is warm, familiar, and irritatingly well-timed.
“Marco,” she says softly. “I’m glad you came.”
I don’t return the smile. I take the seat opposite her and place my phone on the table, face down. “Let’s talk.”
“Straight to business,” she replies lightly. “I admire that.”
Wine is poured without either of us asking. The waiter disappears. The door closes. Privacy settles in like a living thing.
“The De Lucas are moving,” Arianna says. “Quieter than before. That makes them more dangerous.”
I nod. “You said Enzo is consolidating power.”
“He is,” she confirms. “He’s muscle. Greed-driven. Predictable.”
“And Sofia?”
Arianna’s fingers trace the rim of her glass. “Sofia is restraint. She’s patient. She sees three outcomes ahead and positions herself where she can pivot no matter which one lands.”
“She’s the brain.”
“Yes,” Arianna says. “And brains don’t like chaos. They like control.”
She reaches forward then, her fingers brushing my hand.
Not grabbing. Not lingering.
Testing.
I pull back immediately.
Her expression doesn’t change. If anything, she looks amused.
“You’re tense,” she says. “You’ve been searching for her.”
My jaw tightens. “Don’t.”
“For Carmen,” she continues calmly. “You think I don’t notice?”
“This isn’t about my marriage.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks gently. “Because from the outside, it looks like she left you the moment things got difficult.”
The words sting more than I expect.
“She chose to go,” I say coldly.
“She chose Vincent Rossi,” Arianna replies.
The name hits like a blow.
I straighten. “What did you just say?”
“She’s at his estate,” Arianna says, tone almost sympathetic. “Did you really not know?”
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” she asks. “Rossi has hated you for years. And yet he opens his doors to your wife the moment she walks away.”
I feel heat crawl up my spine. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know patterns,” Arianna says softly. “And this one is painfully familiar.”
She leans back, giving me space to react.
“I trusted my family,” she continues. “The people closest to me. They were the ones who destroyed everything. Not enemies. Not rivals.”
I clench my jaw, doubt creeping in despite myself.
“It’s too convenient,” she adds. “She leaves quickly. Cleanly. Finds refuge with a man who’s always wanted your downfall.”
“She wouldn’t,” I say, though my voice lacks the certainty I want it to carry.
Arianna watches me carefully. “Wouldn’t what?”
“Betray me.”
“People don’t see it as betrayal when they convince themselves they’re justified,” she replies. “They call it survival.”
My chest tightens. Carmen’s words echo uncomfortably in my mind. If you truly believe I would betray you, there is nothing left to save.
Arianna lets the silence stretch, then smoothly shifts gears.
“Business,” she says. “The De Lucas are regrouping faster than expected. If we wait, they’ll solidify.”
“What’s your proposal?”
“Target their supply lines,” she says. “Choke their resources. Starve them quietly.”
“That’s risky,” I reply. “It’ll draw attention.”
“Yes,” Arianna agrees. “But it forces Enzo to make desperate moves. And desperate men make mistakes.”
“And Sofia?”
“She’ll try to compensate,” Arianna says. “Which exposes her network. Once that’s compromised, the family fractures.”
I consider it. The plan is aggressive. Dangerous.
Effective.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t,” she says.
I nod once. “Do it.”
Relief flashes across her face before she masks it. “I won’t disappoint you.”
The food arrives then, untouched by either of us. Arianna keeps the conversation light after that, almost gentle, steering away from Carmen, from Rossi, from anything that might force me to confront the knot tightening in my chest.
When we part, she squeezes my arm briefly, her touch lingering just long enough to register.
“You deserve loyalty,” she says quietly. “Not doubt.”
I leave the restaurant with her words echoing in my head, doubt gnawing at me despite my efforts to silence it.
***
POV: Arianna
Marco believes he’s suspicious.
That’s the amusing part.
He thinks distance equals control. That restraint equals strength. He has no idea how deeply the seed has already taken root.
I wait until his car disappears before pulling out my phone.
Enzo answers immediately. “So?”
“He agreed,” I say. “Supply lines first.”
Sofia’s voice joins the call, calm and sharp. “And Carmen?”
“Gone,” I reply. “Removed herself beautifully.”
“She was a strong piece,” Sofia says. “Dangerous.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Which is why her absence is convenient.”
Enzo laughs. “Venetti thinks he’s playing chess.”
“He is,” I say. “He just doesn’t realize I’m the one moving the board.”
I end the call and take a slow sip of wine, satisfaction settling comfortably in my chest.
Marco Venetti is unraveling exactly as planned.