The Surrender of the Twin Dons Chapter 04

The Surrender of the Twin Dons Chapter 04

Luciana’s pov

I let my face go slack with feigned shock, staring up at Salvatore.

“Don Rizzo? Luciana? What the hell are you doing?”

Vincenzo strolled closer, a pharmacy bag dangling from his fingers, that same detached smirk plastered on his face.

“Don… Don Rizzo?”

I jerked back like a startled rabbit, shoving away from Salvatore.
“Vincenzo—I… I thought he was you.”

“Don Rizzo wasn’t wearing his glasses today, and I just… I thought—”

My voice cracked into a whimper. Tears welled up, and I stood there trembling, all wide-eyed guilt.

Vincenzo yanked me behind him and shot Salvatore a venomous glare.

“Christ, you’re hopeless. Can’t even recognize your own man’s back.”

“I’m sorry…” I choked out, biting my lip as I risked a glance at Salvatore. “Don Rizzo, I’m so sorry, I really made a mistake.”

Salvatore’s gaze flicked to me, unreadable. “Not your fault. Twins are easy to mix up.”

Then he turned to Vincenzo, his tone light but laced with quiet menace. “Vincenzo. You shouldn’t snap at her.”

Vincenzo slid back into his usual lazy drawl. “She’s just being stupid.”

“She’s only met me once. It’s an honest mistake.”

Vincenzo arched a brow. “Fine. I apologize.”

Salvatore didn’t say another word. He turned and walked off.

Vincenzo stood rooted for a few seconds before slowly pivoting back to me.

He dangled the bag, his eyes glacial. “Back to the room. Let me see where you’re hurt. I’ll handle it.”

My nails bit into my palms.

If I had to guess, Vincenzo had been balls-deep in that model last night.

Now he wanted to lay hands on me.

A wave of nausea surged up my throat.

I forced it down.

I followed him upstairs.

He washed his hands, then loomed over me, looking at me like I was already dead.

“Strip. Lie down.”

I flinched, playing the part of the wounded girlfriend. “Vincenzo… why are you being so cold?”

For the past year, Vincenzo had played the devoted lover to reel me in — or maybe just to keep up the illusion. This was the first time he’d dropped the act.

“Are you… still mad that I mistook Don Rizzo for you?”

“No.” He cut me off. “You’re overthinking. Just worried about your injuries.”

“Still bleeding? Let me see.”

The sudden softness in his voice sent a chill down my spine.

I’d said no when Vincenzo first pursued me.

I’d only caved because I was terrified.

Someone had once pulled me aside, their voice low. Vincenzo’s last girlfriend—a ballerina with a temper. He’d chased her for half a year, spoiled her rotten.

Then the novelty wore off. He moved on.

She’d smashed his car in a public meltdown, humiliating him.

Days later, news broke that she’d fallen during practice. Paralyzed from the neck down.

That person had warned me: Keep your head down, Luciana. Don’t piss him off. He’s been sniffing around your family records. We don’t have enough lives to pay back the Rizzos.

I was scared of dying. More scared of wishing I were dead.

So I’d played along.

Twelve months of walking on eggshells.

I thought my submission might earn a shred of mercy.

Instead, I’d been tossed onto the poker table like a chip.

My mind was a mess.

Vincenzo pressed me onto the edge of the bed and crouched in front of me.

He grabbed my ankle, spreading my legs.

“Must’ve been teasing me last night. No way I’d go that hard otherwise.”

He chuckled, glanced up at me, and slowly hiked my skirt higher.

I turned my head, biting down on my inner lip until I tasted blood, swallowing the urge to vomit.

Just as he reached the last barrier—

A knock came at the door.

“Vincenzo. My office. Now.”

Salvatore’s voice cut through the wood—tight with restrained fury and absolute command.