Chapter 12 - The Ambush at the Harbor
The restaurant Luca chose was a secluded, candlelit Italian bistro overlooking the old harbor where the Moretti family’s merchant fleet was docked.
I wore a simple emerald-green silk dress that brought out the color of my eyes, paired with the gold sailboat pendant Luca had given me. Luca looked breathtakingly handsome in a custom-tailored midnight-blue suit, his dark hair neatly styled, commanding the room with effortless grace.
For two hours, we laughed, drank vintage Chianti, and talked about everything from our childhood memories to our dreams for the future.
For the first time since I had met him, Luca looked completely at peace. The cold, calculating mafia boss was nowhere to be seen; in his place sat a charming, passionate man who looked at me as though I were the only woman in the universe.
As we walked out of the restaurant toward our parked sedan along the quiet pier, a sudden fog rolled in off the water.
Luca’s demeanor shifted in an instant.
His hand immediately gripped my waist, pulling me slightly behind him as his eyes swept across the darkened dock.
“Luca?” I whispered, sensing the sudden tension in his body.
“Stay close,” he murmured, his right hand slipping instinctively beneath his suit jacket toward his concealed sidearm.
From behind a row of shipping containers, four figures stepped into the yellow glow of the streetlights.
They were armed with heavy iron bars and machetes—local dock enforcers from a defunct smuggling crew that the Bellinis had previously employed.
“Moretti!” the lead thug sneered, stepping forward. “You thought you could shut down our docks and walk away to play house on Willow Street?”
Luca didn't flinch. He stood tall, shielding me entirely with his broad frame.
“You have five seconds to drop your weapons and walk into the dark,” Luca said, his voice flat, dangerously cold. “If you stay, you don't walk away at all.”
The four men laughed, spreading out to surround us.
“There are four of us, Moretti! You’re out of your territory!”
The lead thug lunged forward, swinging an iron bar directly at Luca’s head.
Luca moved with blinding speed. He sidestepped the strike, caught the man’s wrist, and twisted it with a sickening snap. The iron bar clattered to the wet cobblestones. In the same fluid motion, Luca drove a brutal palm strike into the man’s chin, knocking him out cold before he hit the ground.
The second attacker rushed with a knife. Luca drew his pistol in a fraction of a second, firing a single non-lethal round into the man’s knee. The thug collapsed, screaming in agony.
The remaining two attackers froze in terror, realizing within three seconds that they were dealing with a living legend.
Luca leveled his weapon at them, his dark eyes glowing with lethal dominance.
“Drop the weapons,” Luca commanded softly.
The men dropped their iron pipes instantly, their hands shaking above their heads.
“Get your friends and leave this city tonight,” Luca said. “If I ever see your faces near my harbor again, I won't aim for the knees.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti! Yes, sir!” the men stammered, dragging their injured comrades away into the foggy night at a dead run.
Luca holstered his weapon, smoothed his suit jacket, and turned back to me.
“Are you alright, Claire?” he asked, his voice softening instantly from a ruthless predator back into the tender man I loved.
I looked at him, my heart pounding, but not from fear. From awe.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I said, stepping into his arms. “You really are something, Luca Moretti.”
May you like
Luca smiled, wrapping his strong arms around me, kissing me deeply against the backdrop of the misty harbor.
“Let’s go home to our daughter,” he whispered against my lips.
