Sweet Hatred
Chapter 104: Kael Roman - iv

Chapter 104: Kael Roman - iv

The city looked better when it was beneath me.

I sat in my suite on the top floor of the hotel, glass walls swallowing skyline, the kind of view men clawed through blood for. Below, the lights blinked like tiny signals of surrender. They didn’t know it—but they’d already lost.

The box sat on the table in front of me. White. Inside: the dress that cost enough to fund someone’s rent for a year. Silk, thin as breath, the color of spilled blood. An unplanned suprise, waiting by the street. I’d just seen it and thought—she’d either love or hate this.

Which was exactly why I bought it. I touched the ribbon tied around the lid, slow. Aria would either wear it like armor or tear it in half to make a point. I didn’t care which. All I wanted was her.

I wanted to see it. Her fire. She had made me so soft, I almost forgot why I wanted her in the first place. The fury in her eyes. The way her breath caught when she thought I wasn’t looking. The sound she made when I kissed her throat, low and broken like she hated how much she wanted me.

That sound haunted me. But I knew I had to end this first. I leaned back, dragging my gaze away from the box. War didn’t need guns. Just leverage, timing, silence.

My fingers moved across the tablet on the table, screen aglow with a web of names, companies, offshore accounts—every one of them tied to Luca Bellandi like veins to a heart. I didn’t blink. Just started cutting.

One phone call sent a supplier into breach. Another froze a line of credit. Luca wouldn’t feel it right away. That was the point. This wasn’t fire—it was frostbite. Slow, numbing, lethal by the time you noticed.

If I finished this quickly, I could see her soon. Maybe she’d throw the dress at my head. Maybe she’d wear it. Either way, I won. The door clicked open and Niko stepped in, his jaw tight, eyes glittering with something sharp. He didn’t speak right away—just crossed the suite like the news he carried might explode if he moved too fast.

I didn’t look up from the screen. "Talk."

He exhaled. "Confirmed. The D’Amico family’s had a silent mark on Luca for a year. Blood debt. Old vendetta. Word is, they’re just waiting for him to choke."

I paused—just a breath. Then I looked up. Perfect.

I leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin.

"So give them the rope."

Niko’s brow lifted. "You’re sure?"

"I’m not interested in dragging this out. The longer Luca flails, the more noise he makes. Let the D’Amicos clean it up."

I stood, walked toward the table where the box sat— wrapped like a promise I hadn’t earned yet. My thumb brushed the corner.

"In exchange, they stay off Roman business. No touch. No interest. They get their revenge, and we stay spotless." Niko nodded once, already reaching for his phone. I watched the city for another beat, its skyline gleaming with glass and secrets.

"Tell them," I said, voice low, final. "Dinner’s on us."

....

The city continued to move like a machine below me—lights flickering, towers gleaming, men running in circles trying to stay relevant.

Luca was one of them. He didn’t know it yet. But the floor was already breaking under his feet.

By nightfall, two of his calls went unanswered. One advisor in Milan "resigned" mysteriously. Another—his last clean investor in Prague—froze all communication. He was knocking on doors, only to find them bolted shut with Roman iron.

I didn’t need to make a sound. My name did the work. Niko’s reports kept trickling in like clockwork, and each one brought the same pattern: another back turned. Another silence. Another ally gone.

The D’Amicos? Quiet so far. But that was their way. When they struck, it was fast and precise. And Luca wouldn’t see it coming until the blade was already in.

I looked down at the box on the table again. Sitting quietly on the desk. Aria had become like a song replaying at the back of my mind over and over again and I didn’t fight to peel it off or drown it. I just let it play, thinking.

Would she smile? Or would she tell me to fuck off before she even opened it? I smirked. Either way, she’d be wearing me by the end of it all.

...

It came at midnight. A call.

Luca’s name lit up my screen like a bad joke. I let it ring once, twice—then answered. Not because I wanted to hear him grovel, but because I knew he would.

"Kael," he said, trying for casual, failing miserably. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot last time. You and I—we’re cut from the same cloth. Strong blood. Strong names. Let’s talk again. Just us. Clean slate."

There was static behind his voice. Or maybe that was the panic threading through it. He tried to smother it with a laugh, but I’d already heard it.

"No entourage this time," he added. "Just me and you. Man to man."

I leaned back in my chair, the skyline bleeding into the glass like oil and ink. He was unraveling, thread by thread, and he didn’t even know who held the needle.

"I’m listening," I said. Just two words. Flat. Clean. Measured.

A pause. He mistook it for mercy.

"There’s a warehouse on the docks," he said. "West end. No guards. No tricks. I just want to fix this. You know, before things spiral."

They already had.

"Fine," I said. "Tomorrow." His relief was almost embarrassing. "Appreciate it, Roman. Really. I knew we could find middle ground—"

I hung up before he finished. He was scrambling for footholds on a cliff I’d already greased. And the worst part? He still thought he had a choice.

....

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. I didn’t need to. My kind of war didn’t require rest—just precision. I spent the early hours watching the city dim and rot beneath moonlight. She looked beautiful from above. All that chaos disguised as quiet.

I stood and moved to the wardrobe, selecting black—always black. Pressed shirt. Knife-sharp blazer. No tie. Just enough silk and shadow to blur the line between diplomat and executioner.

As I buttoned the cuffs, my gaze flicked again to the box now on the table. Still unopened. Still waiting. The dress. A stupid indulgence. Impulsive purchase. It shouldn’t have mattered. But I kept thinking about her slipping into it. Or tearing it apart just to prove I couldn’t buy her. Either way, it made my blood run hotter than it should’ve.

I adjusted my cufflinks and walked past the box without touching it. Not yet. First—I had to clean up the filth trying to claw their way into my empire.

And Luca Bellandi? He’d made the mistake of thinking this second meeting was a negotiation. It wasn’t. It was a eulogy.

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