Chapter 41: Luna Love Bad
“Caterina!” Luna exclaims, her voice carrying an orchestra of malice. “How nice of you to see me without an appointment.”
Caterina’s arm tightens around my shoulders, an instinctive gesture of possession that pulls me closer to her side. The air between the two women crackles with tension, thick enough that I could cut it with a knife if my hands weren’t shattered and encased in plaster.
“What do you want, Luna?” Caterina asks, her voice is glacial despite the inferno raging in her crimson eyes.
Luna’s gaze slides from Caterina to me, her green eyes widening with theatrical surprise. Her full lips part in a smile.
“You have a toy all of a sudden,” Luna observes, her head tilting as she studies me like I’m an interesting specimen pinned to a board. She licks her lips slowly, deliberately. “Interesting choice.”
The drugs in my system make Luna’s face swim slightly at the edges, her features sharpening and blurring in waves that match my heartbeat. Despite my chemical haze, I recognize the danger radiating from her. She’s different from Caterina, where Caterina is cold precision, Luna seems to be unpredictable chaos.
“If you fuck with him,” Caterina says, each word enunciated with terrifying clarity, “I will bomb both of our organizations to the ground.”
Luna throws her head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the office walls with unsettling intensity. Her eyes never leave mine as her laughter subsides into a smile that sends ice through my veins despite the warmth of the drugs.
“So protective,” Luna purrs, taking a step closer to the couch. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this... attached.”
Her gaze drops to my casted hands resting uselessly in my lap. Something shifts in her expression, a flash of genuine surprise quickly masked by calculated amusement.
“Did you let someone hurt your boy?” Luna asks, her voice dripping with mock concern.
Caterina’s fingers dig painfully into my shoulder, her body coiled with tension beside me. “What do you think?” she replies, her tone deceptively light.
Luna’s smile widens, showing too many teeth. “You did that yourself,” she says, not a question but a statement filled with delighted certainty. “Oh, Caterina. You never could control that temper of yours.”
Luna circles the coffee table with deliberate slowness, her movements reminding me of a jungle cat sizing up potential prey. She lowers herself into a leather armchair across from us. The distance between us isn’t much, but Luna has positioned herself perfectly, close enough for intimate conversation, far enough to dodge if Caterina suddenly lunges for her throat.
“Anyways,” Luna says, waving her hand dismissively as if the tension in the room is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, “I just came by to say I got engaged recently.”
Her green eyes widen with expectation as they focus on Caterina, something almost childlike in her need for a reaction. The contrast between this seemingly innocent expression and the predatory energy radiating from her is deeply unsettling.
“To Tony Moretti,” she adds, a hint of pride coloring her voice.
Caterina seems completely unbothered by whatever these words mean.
“Good,” Caterina replies, her voice flat and unimpressed. “I’m happy the Morettis found someone to pawn my ex-husband off to.”
I feel a strange twinge in my chest at the word “ex-husband.” Something about hearing Caterina refer to someone else in those terms makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
Caterina notices my furrowed brow immediately, her attention momentarily shifting from Luna to me. Her hand slides from my shoulder down to my forearm, fingers gently squeezing just below the edge of my cast in what feels like reassurance.
Luna’s green eyes track the movement with predatory interest, missing nothing despite her relaxed posture in the chair.
“Is that all?” Caterina asks, impatience edging into her voice.
Luna leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her expression shifting to something more businesslike. “Aren’t you happy we can all be one big, happy mafia-cartel organization finally?”
“I don’t care what the Morettis think. They don’t have any say in my territory,” Caterina says, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Luna’s expression shifts, the playfulness vanishing entirely. For the first time since entering the room, she looks completely serious, almost solemn. The transformation is jarring, like watching a carnival funhouse mirror suddenly reflect a true image.
“Caterina, come on,” Luna says, her voice dropping lower, more intimate. “With my product and your distribution, we could own New England.”
Despite my haze, I can feel Caterina’s body go rigid beside me, tension radiating from her in almost tangible waves.
Caterina’s crimson eyes go wide, not with fear but with a mixture of outrage and disbelief so powerful it momentarily cracks her perfect composure. Her lips part slightly before curving into a smile that contains no warmth, no humor, only predatory intent.
“I already own New England,” she says, each word precise and heavy with finality.
“You know,” she says, her voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous, “I’ve spent years building connections you couldn’t imagine. The Colombians trust me now. The Salvadorans come to me first. Even the Irish have started to see things my way.”
She stands in one fluid motion. “The quality of my product has tripled while yours has stayed exactly the same,” she continues, pacing slowly in front of us. “People are starting to talk, Caterina. They’re starting to wonder if the great De Luca empire is... stagnating.”
I feel Caterina’s fingers dig painfully into my shoulder, her nails creating crescent moons of pressure through the fabric of my shirt. It kinda turns me on.
Luna’s gaze slides to me, her green eyes calculating beneath long lashes. “And now you’re distracted by your new pet project,” she adds, her lips curving into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “So cute with his matching white suit and broken hands.”
“Thanks,” I say, the drugs making me unsure why she would stop to compliment me, but it’s not unwelcome.
‘It is a nice suit.’
Caterina sighs at me with parent-like disappointment.
Luna moves closer, leaning down until her face is level with mine. Her scent washes over me, something tropical and sharp, like pineapple soaked in gasoline. “Does he even know what you are?” she whispers, her breath hot against my cheek. “What you’ve done?”
‘I don’t think I’d even care at this point. My only life goal anymore is keeping Connor alive.’
Caterina pulls me closer to her side, the movement swift and possessive. “Back off,” she warns, her voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes my stomach clench with Pavlovian fear.
Luna straightens, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. Her bangles clatter against each other, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence of the office.
“Fine, fine,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I just thought you might want to be part of what’s coming instead of getting crushed beneath it.”
“I’m good,” Caterina says coldly.
Luna turns away, moving toward the door with exaggerated casualness. Her hand rests on the doorknob as she glances back over her shoulder, her wild hair framing her face like a storm cloud.
“Whatever, Caterina,” she says with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Your loss. But don’t come crawling back when your world falls apart around you.”
Caterina barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and cutting in the still air of the office. “That’s what you said time, ten years ago,” she retorts, her crimson eyes
Luna’s green eyes flash dangerously, her casual demeanor evaporating like water on hot pavement. A low, animalistic growl rises from her throat, the sound primal and unsettling in the polished confines of Caterina’s office.
“Things are different now, Caterina,” she snarls, her knuckles whitening as she grips the doorknob. “You might own New England today, but tomorrow?” Her lips curl into a smile that’s all teeth and no warmth. “Tomorrow is coming faster than you think.”
The door slams behind her with enough force to rattle the expensive artwork on the walls, the sound echoing in the sudden silence like a gunshot.
Caterina remains perfectly still beside me, her body radiating tension and fury in equal measure. I can feel her pulse hammering through the hand that still grips my shoulder, the rhythm fast and erratic against my skin. Gradually, the rigidity in her posture softens, her breathing slows, and her fingers relax their punishing grip.
“Fucking Luna,” she mutters, reaching for her phone to tap out a quick message, presumably to security.
The drugs make me bold or maybe just stupid. The question bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, slipping past my lips before I can consider the wisdom of asking it.
“So I heard you had an ex-husband in the past, but uhh... what’s the deal with that?”
Caterina freezes, her crimson eyes snapping to my face with laser-like intensity. For one terrifying moment, I’m certain I’ve overstepped, that she’ll punish me for my curiosity. Instead, her expression softens into something vulnerable, another glimpse of the woman beneath the monster.
She sets her phone down and turns to me fully, her hands cupping my face with loving gentleness. Her thumbs trace the line of my cheekbones, her touch feather-light and oddly comforting.
“Unlike you,” she says softly, leaning in until our foreheads almost touch, “I was divorced when we met.”
Her lips brush against mine, the kiss tender and possessive all at once. When she pulls back, her crimson eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
“And I promise,” she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I’ve never loved anyone before you.”
A confusing warmth spreads through me, separate from the chemical heat of the drugs. Something about her words, about the naked sincerity in her eyes, makes my face flush and my pulse quicken. I know I should be repulsed, should reject this twisted version of love she’s offering. Instead, I find myself leaning into her touch, craving the connection despite everything.
“Totally,” I say, nodding slightly as her fingers continue their gentle exploration of my face. “That’s good to know.
‘I still hate her, though.’