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Luca knew something was wrong.

Not life-threatening wrong—not like "Damien came home covered in blood" wrong.

But still.

Weird.

And weird, when it came to the mafia, was never a good sign.

It started small.

The men—who normally ignored him in favor of their usual mobster business—suddenly started treating him different.

Before?

They'd acknowledge him with a nod and move on.

Now?

Now they were too polite.

Too obedient.

And, worst of all?

They were listening to him.

Which was terrifying.

Luca was in Damien's office, waiting for his boyfriend to finish some mafia nonsense, when a guy—big, burly, scary-looking—walked in.

"Boss isn't here," Luca said, not looking up from his phone.

"We know."

Luca finally glanced up.

We?

Two more guys had stepped into the room behind him.

Luca frowned. "What do you want?"

The big guy hesitated.

Then, with deadly seriousness, he said:

"We need your approval for the new shipment."

...

Luca blinked.

Then laughed. Hard.

"What?"

The guy shifted uncomfortably. "Uh. The shipment, sir."

Luca choked. "Sir?"

Since when did mafia guys call him sir?!

"I think you have the wrong person," Luca said, standing. "I don't do mafia things. You know that."

The guy hesitated. Then muttered, "That's not what Boss said."

Luca's stomach dropped.

"...What did Damien say?"

"He said you handle the important things."

Luca stared. "Like what?"

The guy looked confused. "Everything?"

Everything.

EVERYTHING?!

Luca was reeling from the first, but surely—surely—that was a fluke.

Nope.

The next day, a group of armed men stood outside his apartment.

Luca, still in his pajamas, gaped.

"...Who the hell are you?"

One of them stepped forward, saluting. SALUTING.

"Your new security detail, sir."

Luca gawked.

"I didn't ask for security!"

The guy hesitated. Then, clearing his throat, said, "Boss insists. Orders, sir."

Boss. Damien.

Luca cursed.

Damien was so dead.

Luca stormed into Damien's office, flinging the door open so hard it banged against the wall.

Damien, sitting at his desk, didn't even look up.

"You're late."

Luca threw a pen at his face.

Damien caught it effortlessly. "Hm?"

Luca marched over, furious.

"Since when am I involved in your mafia business?!"

Damien finally looked up, bored. "You're not."

"THEN WHY DOES YOUR ENTIRE STAFF THINK I'M THEIR BOSS?!"

Damien tilted his head. "Do they?"

Luca's eye twitched. "YES."

Damien sighed like this was an inconvenience.

"Luca." He leaned back, fingers tapping against his desk. "You're my partner."

Luca folded his arms. "So?"

"So, they respect you." Damien's voice was dangerously calm. "And if they don't, they're gone."

Luca froze.

Oh.

Oh.

Damien's expression darkened. "No one disregards what's mine."

Luca's heart skipped.

Because—holy hell.

That was dangerous.

And also hot.

...Dammit.

Luca sighed, rubbing his temples. "Just... make them stop treating me like I'm their superior."

Damien's lips curled slightly.

"Can't."

Luca gaped. "WHY?!"

"Because you are."

Luca groaned. "Damien—"

"You don't have to do anything, sweetheart," Damien said, voice smooth. "They just know better than to ignore you."

Luca hated how much he liked that.

"...Fine."

Damien's smirk widened.

Luca pointed a finger.

"But if I get another business request, I'm burning your office down."

Damien laughed. "Understood."

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