Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 3

Chapter 3: I’ve Heard Of This Place

She glared at him, cheeks warm.

"You want the money or not?" Luca held up a one-hundred-dollar bill between two fingers, the gesture careless, insulting in its ease. Money meant nothing here. It was paper. Leverage. A way to make problems disappear. He expected her to snatch it and bolt.

"It’s five ninety-nine," she said flatly.

"I’m giving you a hundred dollars so you can get the fuck out of here already."

"I’ve heard of this place," Vee shot back. "Where the devil lives. Grants you favours and asks for souls in return." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I don’t want any favours. I just want my five ninety-nine."

"You work with Scalese, uhn?" Luca asked.

"Yes."

He hummed softly. He took the bill and slid it into the neckline of her polo shirt, deliberately letting his finger trail down her skin as he did.

Veronica stiffened.

"Like I said," Luca murmured, watching her closely, "I’m Marco. Not the devil." His eyes flicked briefly to where his finger had been. "You can have the money. Can I have the pizza?"

She huffed and dumped the pizza box into his hands with more force than necessary. "There," she said. Then she reached into her shirt, pulled the bill out, and held it up between them. "I’ll put it on your tab. You don’t have to pay when next you order."

"It’s a tip," Luca said.

"And I said I don’t want it," Vee insisted, clutching the bill between her fingers.

Luca shrugged dismissively. "Suit yourself," he said. "Addio"

The words followed her as she turned and walked out of the office, spine stiff, dignity held together with sheer stubbornness. She didn’t look back. Didn’t let herself think about the way his gaze burned into her retreating form. The door shut behind her, sealing that world away.

Moments later, Nonnina arrived with his lunch.

Everyone knew her. Everyone feared her. Guards stepped aside without being asked. She was terrifying in a maternal kind of way—the kind of woman who could bless you and curse you in the same breath and mean both.

She walked straight into Luca’s office, the smell of home-cooked food following her. "Diavolino!" she called warmly, closing the door behind her. "Traffic was a nightmare. Madonna mia. But it’s alright—I can put the food in the micro thing. Heat it up for you."

"Alright, Nonni. Go ahead."

She set the containers down, muttering softly to herself, then froze.

Her eyes locked onto the pizza box sitting innocently on the table.

She gasped, scandalised. "Diavolino!"

"What?" Luca snapped automatically, irritation flaring—until he followed her line of sight. His stomach dropped. "Shit. Nonni, no! No!" He moved quickly. "It’s not mine. I swear, it’s not mine."

She turned slowly, hands on her hips, unimpressed.

"You know me," he added hurriedly. "I will not eat out. I only eat what you make for me."

"If you wanted pizza, you should have told me. I will make you pizza." Nonnina cried, hands flying to her chest.

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