Saint Or Sinner?

Fifty Seven.

"Can I come with you, Luciano?" she asked again, her eyes filled with worry and concern.

I cupped her cheeks, gently stroking them with my thumbs.

"Gem, you can't. It's too dangerous," I said, trying to make her understand. But she shook her head stubbornly, and it pissed me off.

"What if something bad happens? What if he kills you? No, Luciano, I won't survive that," she cried, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks—tears that carved a sharp pain straight into my chest.

"Camila... don't you trust me?" I tilted her face up to meet my gaze.

"I do," she whispered.

I wiped her tears away with both thumbs.

"Then I promise—I'll come back to you, alright?"

She nodded reluctantly and buried herself in my chest, clutching me like it was our last day on earth.

I wrapped my arms tightly around her, then gently pulled back, leaning in for a kiss. But she turned her face away, making me frown.

"Don't kiss me, Luciano... It'll feel like a goodbye kiss," she murmured.

I smiled. "We both know it's not our last, dolcezza. I'm not one to die easily, Gem. So consider it a good luck kiss."

She was still eing stubborn, so I took the kiss anyway—forcefully and fully.

Then I whispered against her ear, "I'll see you tonight. Be ready for daddy."

She shivered in my hold. I pecked her cheek and turned to leave, but she followed, clutching my arm until we got downstairs.

Russo, Lorenzo , Sandro, Ava, Andrew, and a few of my other men were already waiting.

"Tesoro," Russo called with a smile, and she went over to hug him—something that immediately irked me.

I wanted to yank her back, but one look from my annoying twin held me in place.

She was creating a place for herself in all our lives. She's truly something special.

"Please be careful," she told him, her voice trembling, her eyes glassy.

"Tesoro, you don't need to worry," Russo said, smirking. "If I die now, hell won't accept me—too much competition. And heaven? God knows I'm hard work. He'll probably just send me back."

"Be serious for once, Russo," she scolded, slapping his chest. He only smirked harder.

"Don't worry, amoré. We're all coming back. It's not a war—it's Lago Othello. The guy's a pussy. Think of this as a fun mission," Lorenzo added, trying to ease her tension.

She offered a small, sad smile.

I turned to Ava, already dressed, her expression hard as steel. She was braced for the mission ahead—but right now, Camila needed her more than we did. I couldn't risk my precious gem spiraling or losing her mind.