Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 129

Chapter 129: I Do Not Answer To You

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself not to end the call first.

The call went unanswered.

Luca stared at the screen until it dimmed, his own reflection staring back at him. He swore under his breath and called again. He should stop. He should let her cool off. Let her process whatever storm she had decided to build around him. He leaned forward on the sofa, elbows braced on his knees, phone dangling loosely from his fingers.

He needed to see her. Needed to look at her face when she was angry. Needed to read the truth in her eyes rather than guess at it through silence. Needed to touch her, if only to reassure himself that she was still within reach. Without her, everything else dimmed. All background noise. He opened his messages and typed two words.

I’m sorry.

He stared at them.

It felt insufficient. Thin.

What did she want to hear? What did she need? Would she want explanations? Promises?

He swallowed. He would do anything. He sent the text.

The message delivered. No response.

His jaw flexed. Fine.

If she would not answer him privately, he would go through the front door.

He searched for the number and pressed call. The line rang twice before a bright, professional voice answered.

"Hello, this is Scalese Pizza, can I take your order?"

He recognized her immediately. Valentina. Even over the phone, there was sunlight in her tone.

"Hey, Val," he said, smoothing his voice. "Can I talk to your sister?"

There was a brief pause. "Who is this?"

"It’s Luca."

"Oh. I’ll just get her." The phone shifted. Muffled sounds followed. Voices drifting in and out.

Then, faintly, he heard her voice. "No."

Valentina murmured something he couldn’t fully catch. A softer tone, persuasive. A sister’s voice trying to broker peace. Another "No," quieter but no less resolute.

Footsteps returned. The line shifted again. Valentina came back on. There was no sweetness in her voice now. "What did you do?"

"I do not answer to you, Valentina," Luca said, voice cooling several degrees.

"You will," she replied without missing a beat, "if you want me to tell you how to get back in her good graces."

"I went on a trip," he said after a pause. "She didn’t like it."

There was silence on the other end, then a soft exhale. "Uh... okay. That’s manageable. Just show her you’re sorry," Valentina continued. "You don’t have to drown her in speeches. Do things that tell her you care about her feelings. That you respect them. And that you’re sorry. Actions speak way louder than words."

He was taking relationship advice from an eighteen year old. That was how far he had fallen. "Right," he muttered. He hung up before she could add anything else and immediately scrolled to another name. Marco. He had never executed such a campaign before. He needed help.

*****

At the pizza parlour, new ovens were being installed. Electricians moved in and out with tool belts clinking. A fresh coat of deep red paint was drying along the exterior walls. The old sign had been removed, replaced temporarily with a simple banner that read Renovations Underway.

Veronica stood outside. She was issuing instructions calmly but firmly. She barely had time to breathe. The renovation had been necessary. Sales had dipped. Equipment had aged. The place needed renewal. She needed distraction.

So when a man stepped in carrying an enormous bouquet of roses, she did not even look up at first. "Delivery for Veronica Scalese," the man announced.

Veronica continued scanning a clipboard. "Just leave it on the counter in the shop," she said absently.

The bouquet was absurdly large. Deep red roses, wrapped in black paper with a satin ribbon tied around the stems. The first bouquet had barely settled into its throne of dramatic apology when another delivery van rolled up.

Then another. And another.

Men in uniforms carried armfuls of flowers as if they were unloading produce. They didn’t ask questions. They simply placed towering arrangements along the storefront and walked off.

White lilies. Crimson roses. Orchids in sleek black boxes. Peonies bursting open. Within minutes, the sidewalk outside Scalese Pizza was less pavement and more botanical garden.

Her eyes swept the scene.

The shop’s exterior, freshly painted and still faintly glossy, was now framed in color and perfume. Bouquets lined the door. Floral stands flanked the windows.

Inside, Rosa pressed both palms to the glass, grinning.

Valentina stood beside her, waving exaggeratedly at Veronica.

"What the hell is he doing?" Veronica muttered under her breath. Trying to bury her in flowers?

The construction workers paused their drilling to take in the spectacle. One of them let out a long whistle. "Damn...Somebody’s gone full Shakespeare."

Pedestrians slowed their pace. A couple of teenagers stopped entirely, phones already lifted, recording.

Scalese Pizza Parlour, a modest neighborhood cornerstone fighting to modernize its ovens and boost sales, was about to go viral for reasons that had nothing to do with its dough recipe.

Veronica exhaled slowly, hands settling on her hips.

Another truck pulled up. This one was sleeker. Tinted windows. The driver stepped out and opened the back.

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