Chapter 8: Rooftop Recruiting
The ring felt strange on her finger. Not uncomfortable, but present, a solid, cool weight that caught the light when she moved her hand. A constant reminder of the choice she’d made, of the two men currently arguing in low tones in the kitchen.
“She needs more than one,” Nico’s voice, a restrained rumble, carried down the hall.
“One is a vulnerability. Two is a protocol. Three is a parade.” Luca’s reply was clipped, final. “It draws more attention than it deflects.”
Jamie looked at the three files spread on the living room coffee table. Headshots of stern-faced men in dark suits stared back. She knew Luca and Nico would ultimately decide, but they’d given her the courtesy—or the test—of reviewing the finalists. Her eyes kept drifting to the window, to the descending dusk. The audition, as Luca had dryly called it, was set for the rooftop terrace in an hour.
When she emerged from the bedroom later, dressed in simple black trousers and a silky cream blouse, the atmosphere had shifted. The penthouse was quiet. Luca stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand, his profile sharp against the city’s early evening glow. Nico was adjusting the strap of his watch, his gaze meeting hers with a silent, heated intensity that recalled the desk, the books, the feel of them surrounding her.
“Ready?” Luca asked, turning. His eyes dropped to her left hand. A flicker of something possessive and satisfied crossed his face before he schooled it back into neutral authority.
The rooftop terrace was a different world. Up here, the city’s hum was a distant echo. Black marble underfoot reflected the string lights Luca’s staff had draped between potted olive trees. Clusters of low seating and fire pits created intimate zones, but the center was cleared, an arena of polished steel. A bar was set up along one side, and to Jamie’s surprise, Emma and Toby were already there, looking wildly out of place by a table of canapés.
“You invited them?” Jamie whispered to Nico as they approached.
“Luca’s idea,” Nico murmured back, his hand a warm pressure on the small of her back. “Normalcy. Or a facsimile of it.”
“Jamie!” Emma squealed, rushing over. She hugged her, then her eyes widened, darting between Luca and Nico. “Hi. Wow. This is… incredible.”
Toby, ever the blunt one, just whistled low. “So this is the infamous boyfriend. And… friend?”
“Toby,” Jamie hissed.
Luca merely extended a hand, his smile all sharp, polite edges. “Luca. This is Nico. Thank you for coming.”
The candidates arrived not in a line, but filtering in from the rooftop access door. They were younger than Jamie expected, most in their late twenties, dressed in dark, tactical-looking casual wear, not suits. They moved with a relaxed alertness, nodding to Nico, avoiding direct eye contact with Luca. Nico melted into the background, becoming a part of the scenery, watching everything.
Luca guided Jamie to a deep, velvet-draped bench in a shadowed alcove. It gave a clear view of the terrace while offering privacy. “They’ll demonstrate situational control, threat assessment, and discreet intervention,” he explained quietly, his breath near her ear. “You watch. You tell me who you feel safest with.”
It started formally. Nico would call a name. A man would step into the cleared space. Another candidate, acting as a simulated “principal”—Jamie’s stand-in—would walk a predetermined route. Then, a third, playing a threat, would approach—sometimes overtly aggressive, sometimes just a persistent, unwanted conversation. The demonstrations were swift, efficient, and unnervingly quiet. An arm slipped between bodies, a subtle redirect, a low word spoken that made the aggressor pause and retreat. No flashy moves. Just effective, invisible containment.
After a few of these, the mood loosened. Luca ordered drinks from the bar for everyone. The candidates mingled, the professional tension easing into something resembling a very strange, very armed cocktail party. Emma, emboldened by a glass of champagne, was talking to a tall, strikingly handsome candidate with blonde hair and a smile that seemed genuinely warm. He looked like a sun-kissed, friendly version of Luca.
“That’s Ethan,” Luca said, following her gaze. “Former close protection officer for a tech CEO. He’s good at the friendly approach.”
As if on cue, Emma, laughing at something Ethan said, gestured widely and her champagne flute slipped from her hand. The pale liquid arced through the air and splashed directly down the front of Ethan’s gray henley.
Emma froze, her face flooding with crimson. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”
Ethan looked down at his soaked shirt, then back at her, and his warm smile only widened. “It’s fine. Really. Stickier threats have been thrown at me.” He peeled the damp fabric away from his chest in a move that was unintentionally, ridiculously attractive.
Emma blushed deeper, stammering apologies. Ethan just laughed, a low, easy sound, and signaled for a bar towel.
On the other side of the terrace, Toby was practically vibrating. He’d zeroed in on a candidate named Seth. Seth was the opposite of Ethan: dark-haired, intense, with a tattooed sleeve visible on his left arm and a stillness that reminded Jamie of Nico. He was listening to Toby’s rapid-fire questions about combat training with a slight, patient smirk.
“Seth’s one of mine,” Nico’s voice came from just behind Jamie’s shoulder. She hadn’t heard him move. “He’s got promise. A bit impulsive, but he listens.”
Toby said something, gesturing wildly, and Seth actually chuckled, the intense mask cracking for a second. Toby looked like he’d won the lottery.
Jamie watched it all, the ring heavy on her finger. She saw the skills, noted the efficiency, but she also saw the way Ethan put Emma immediately at ease even while soaked, the way Seth tolerated Toby’s hero-worship without arrogance. She saw the way the other candidates watched Luca, a mixture of fear and respect. She saw Nico, always at the periphery, missing nothing.
The formal demonstrations resumed, but the air had changed. It felt less like an audition and more like a selection. When it was over, Luca turned to her. “Well?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Ethan and Seth.”
Luca’s eyebrow rose. “Not Russo? He has ten years on them. Flawless record.”
“Russo looks at me like I’m a precious vase,” Jamie said, her voice firmer than she expected. “Ethan looks like he’d make me laugh while shoving me out of the path of a bullet. And Seth…” She glanced at Nico, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Seth listens to Nico. He’ll follow the right chain of command.”
A slow smile spread across Luca’s face, a real one that reached his piercing blue eyes. “Alright, principessa. Your call.” He stood, clapping his hands once, the sound sharp in the night air. “Ethan. Seth. A word.”
The two men broke away from the groups, their professional masks sliding back into place as they approached. Up close, Ethan’s blue eyes were kinder than Luca’s, but no less observant. Seth’s green gaze was direct, flicking to Nico for confirmation before settling on Jamie.
“You’ll report to Nico,” Luca said, his voice losing all its earlier sociability, turning into the Don’s son’s voice. “Your only priority is her safety. Her life is worth more than yours. You fail, and you answer to me. Understood?”
Both men nodded, their faces grimly serious. “Understood, sir.”
Luca dismissed them with a jerk of his chin. As they melted back into the crowd, he slid back onto the bench beside Jamie. The terrace was winding down, Emma and Toby saying their effusive goodbyes, the candidates departing through the access door.
Nico came over, finally sitting on Jamie’s other side. The three of them sat in silence for a moment, watching the last of the staff clear the glasses. The city glittered beyond the terrace edge, a vast, unknowable entity.
“You chose well,” Nico said quietly.
“I chose the ones who didn’t look at me like I was just your weak spot,” Jamie replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Luca’s hand found hers, his thumb rubbing over the platinum band and its three stones. “You’re our strength,” he corrected, his voice low. “Not our weakness. They need to understand that.”
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of jasmine from a nearby planter. Jamie looked at the empty terrace, at the spot where Emma had blushed and Toby had gawked, at the polished steel where men had demonstrated how to keep her alive. This was her life now. A cocktail party atop a fortress. A choice made in a sunlit study binding her to two dangerous men. A ring on her finger and two new shadows for her days.
Luca stood, pulling her up with him. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Nico fell into step behind them, a solid, reassuring presence. As they walked toward the penthouse door, Jamie didn’t look back at the terrace or the city. She looked at the two men flanking her, one holding her hand, the other guarding her back, and felt the strange, terrifying rightness of it settle into her bones. The audition was over. The real thing began tomorrow.
The real thing began tomorrow.
The heavy glass door of the penthouse sealed behind them, muting the city’s endless sigh. The air inside was still, warm, and smelled of the lemon oil used on the dark wood floors. Jamie slipped her heels off, the cool marble a relief against her soles.
Luca’s hand, still entwined with hers, gave a gentle squeeze. He led her past the vast, empty living room, not toward the bedroom, but to the long, windowed gallery that overlooked the skyline. Nico followed, a silent ghost in their wake.
“They’ll start at seven,” Nico said, his voice cutting the quiet. “Seth will drive you. Ethan will be your visible shadow on campus. They’ll rotate.”
Jamie nodded, watching her reflection in the dark glass overlap with the distant neon signs. Her own face looked pale, composed. The woman in the reflection wore a ring that wasn’t a promise of forever from a boy in a library. It was a claim staked in a world of marble and menace.
“They’re good choices,” Nico added, softer now. He came to stand beside her, his shoulder almost touching hers. “You saw what mattered.”
Luca released her hand and moved to the sideboard, pouring three fingers of amaretto into a glass. He didn’t drink it. He just swirled the liquid, watching it catch the low light. “You trusted your instinct.” He took a slow sip, his eyes finding hers in the glass’s reflection. “That’s the most important skill you can have now. Trusting it.”
He set the glass down with a soft click. He walked back to her, his movements fluid and predatory in the dimness. He stood behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body, and placed his hands on her shoulders. Nico, in front of her, reached out and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
Luca leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His breath was warm, scented with almonds and spice. “It’s interesting you chose Ethan,” he whispered, the words for her alone.
She felt Nico go very still in front of her.
Luca’s voice was a low, intimate thread in the quiet gallery. “He’s my half-brother.” He said it with a smile in his tone, a dark, private amusement. “Seth was an interesting choice. And Nico’s younger cousin.”
The information landed in her gut like a stone. She didn’t move. She kept staring at their three reflections in the night-black window: Nico’s intense, frozen expression, her own wide eyes, Luca’s smirk over her shoulder.
Her instinct. She’d chosen blood. Not just any blood, but their blood. A Rossi and a Bellentio. She had, without any conscious knowledge, embedded herself deeper into the fabric of their family. It wasn’t just security. It was a statement. It was a threading of their lineages around her for protection.
Nico let out a long, slow breath. “She doesn’t miss a thing, does she?” There was a rough pride in his voice.
“No,” Luca murmured, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “She doesn’t.”
Jamie finally found her voice. It came out steady, quieter than she felt. “So I didn’t just pick bodyguards.”
“No, principessa,” Luca said, his lips grazing her temple. “You picked family. They will protect you with their lives because your life is now bound to theirs. To ours.” He straightened, meeting her gaze in the reflection, his blue eyes glinting. “Failures in this world have consequences. For them, failure with you would be… unimaginable.”
The weight of it settled over her, a different kind of heavy than the ring. This was the machinery of their world, clicking into place around her. It was loyalty enforced by shared DNA, by shared last names whispered in dangerous rooms. It was brilliant and terrifying.
A faint, wry smile touched her lips. She looked at Nico, then at Luca’s reflection. “So,” she said, her tone almost casual. “No pressure.”