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What is love?

Some say it’s an emotion—a feeling that makes people act in a certain way, especially when around those who stir up such emotions within them.

But what, exactly, is love?

Maybe I wasn’t sure just yet. But one thing was certain: This man seated across from me stirred up some sort of bizarre feelings within me. He was my father’s perfect choice for a husband, and in all honesty, I may or may not have gotten such a man on my own.

He sat poised, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, his hazel-brown eyes shining under the chandelier’s warm glow. His lips curved into a charming smile, his gaze holding mine in a quiet moment that seemed rather intimate.

I felt butterflies in my stomach and a flutter in my chest as I stared at him, relaxed in my chair, and exuded an air of composure. My manicured fingers cradled the stem of the wine glass on the elegant table set before us, and I lifted it for my lips. While sipping my fine wine, I caught his eyes momentarily darting down to my exposed thighs before flying back to my face.

A faint grin twitched at the corners of his lips, and although he didn’t say anything, I could tell how pleased he was by the sight he had caught a glimpse of. He reached for his wine glass and sipped from it while still holding my gaze.

We’d been silent for at least two minutes now after having a series of random conversations and realizing just how compatible we were.

As we sat in the private dining room, aglow with soft, golden lights, the scent of flowers and fine wine wafted through the air, invading my senses. My fiancé’s gaze melted my heart, and the more his eyes bore into mine, the more vulnerable I became. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but it was as though Liam Callahan had some sort of power over me. Or maybe it was just my emotions swirling all over the place.

I was 22 and a recent business graduate, about to marry a man who was every woman’s dream: tall, handsome, charming, and wealthy. Liam’s money didn’t mean much to me, considering I’d been born into wealth and power. I was an O’Sullivan, part of one of the most powerful Mafia families in Chicago.

Liam Callahan was a high-ranking member of the Irish Mafia, headed by my father, Sean O’Sullivan, so my fiancé’s wealth and status in society were almost irrelevant to me. His personality, however, drew my attention, as did his looks. The man was gorgeous; no exaggerations here.

It felt like my life was starting to fall into place, and things seemed too perfect, too good to be true. What a lucky young woman I was!

Tonight, I was dressed to impress, and with the way he’d been staring at me, unable to tear his gaze away, I’d say I did a pretty good job. That was satisfying.

My fiery red hair was swept up into a loose braided chignon that exposed my slender neck, highlighting my striking features. My makeup was light yet polished, with a soft focus on enhancing my natural beauty. I wore an elegant, sleeveless mini dress that accentuated my figure and hugged me in all the right places. The dress revealed a tantalizing glimpse of my thighs as I sat, its silk, emerald fabric matching the color of my eyes, while my lips were painted a shade of pink.

The exquisite cuisine and the quiet hum of conversations seemed to fade into the background as I basked in Liam’s presence, a gorgeous smile perched on my lips. I was lovestruck. There were no arguments there, but in my defense, I was helpless and couldn’t help the emotions flowing through me like a river.

The silence had lingered long enough, and so to break it, I spoke in response to his stare. “What?” I asked, my voice light and tender.

“Nothing,” he said, setting his glass down on the elegant table where fine china, crisp linens, and a delicate candelabra adorned with white candles cast a warm, intimate glow. “Just admiring how beautiful you are. Surely, that’s not a crime.” His lips curled into a smile, and his expression softened.

My eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before darting to face him again.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his husky voice laced with a hint of caution.

“No. No, not at all,” I said, stuttering as my brain abandoned me at such a time.

“I can look away if you want,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe stare at the grannie over there.” He nodded toward a gray-haired woman sitting by herself across from us.

I stole a glimpse in her direction and chuckled lightly at his joke. “She’s totally worth your attention.”

“ You’re worth my attention,” he said, his eyes pinned on me. “No offense to Grannie,” he added almost immediately.

A bright smile spread across my face, and a sense of calm washed over me. Liam always knew the right thing to say, and for a man as dangerous and ruthless as him, his kindness was a stark contrast to his dark personality. I couldn’t think of anything more intriguing than that.

“Is this an attempt to make me blush?” I asked, my voice soft and tender as I felt my cheeks flush.

“Is it working?” He held my gaze as his smile widened by the second.

I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, my eyes dropping to the table setting between us. A flutter rose within me, and my heart melted. His hold over me was strong, leaving me speechless at times.

Liam edged closer, reaching out to place his palm on mine. At his tender touch, a shiver sprinted down my spine, and I raised my eyes to meet his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful, Scarlett,” he declared with a low, husky voice. “And I’m not just saying this because I can. It’s the truth. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and that’s why you’re gonna be the most gorgeous bride.”

Like I said, Liam had a way with words, words that somehow always made me feel loved, lucky, and wanted. In his eyes, I could see his desire to be with me—beyond that, I could almost see my future.

Liam was the perfect gentleman, fierce and ruthless when need be. Around him, I felt safe, protected, and adored. What more could I ask for?

***

Later that evening, I decided to stop by a coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. I was craving something warm, something to help with the anxiety and rush that came with being lovestruck.

All day, I hadn’t stopped smiling, considering the amount of gladness in my heart. I knew I looked silly, moving around with a grin perched on my face, but I couldn’t exactly help it. Maybe it was because I was in love.

I pushed the door open, the soft chime of the bells above announcing my arrival. Café Velluto was a haven from the evening chill, with large glass windows that reflected the warm glow of the street lamps outside.

It was cozy inside, the sweet scent of freshly brewed espresso, cocoa, and baked pasties wafting through the air, teasing my senses. The space was abuzz with the soft hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of ceramic cups. Wooden tables and chairs were meticulously arranged to offer both privacy and a sense of community.

The hanging chandeliers cast a warm glow over the space, the soft lights illuminating the patrons’ features while adding to the ambiance. I stepped toward the counter, ready to place my order—however, I wasn’t paying attention until I collided with someone. A slight gasp left my lips, and my body stiffened reflexively as I raised my head to apologize.

“Hey, watch it!” a sweet feminine voice came at me, the tone laced with a hint of mild aggression.

I thought the voice sounded really familiar, and when my eyes met the speaker’s, my words caught my throat. “Holy cow!” My brows mirrored the surprise etched in my gaze. “Alessia?”

The young woman in front of me pushed her head backward with a whisper, her brown eyes squinting almost imperceptibly. “No way,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile as her eyes widened. “Scarlett O’Sullivan?” She chuckled, closing the gap between us. “This must be my lucky day.”

I laughed, slipping into her embrace, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Jesus Christ! How long has it been?” she asked, letting go and pushing strands of her honey-blonde hair to the back of her ear, her gorgeous smile retained.

“Too long,” I replied amidst chuckles.

“Oh, my God, this is such a pleasant surprise, especially because you’re the last person I would ever have thought I’d bump into today.” Alessia laughed, a melodic trill that was brief but infectious.

My response was a silvery peal that faded into a warm smile. “Same here. I guess it’s a small world.”

“Indeed,” she said, her soft chuckle trailing off.

“What are you doing in this part of town?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

“Oh, um…I’m studying, actually,” she replied, her head slightly leaning closer. “Finals are coming up, and boy, does this place make a mean cappuccino!” A sheepish grin lined her lips, her words infused with a relaxed, casual air.

“Miss Romano, your cappuccino is ready!” the blonde lady behind the counter called out, her voice cheerful and efficient.

“See?” She wagged her eyebrows at me and then faced the barista. “Alright, Layla. Thank you.”

Alessia Romano, an old friend from school, was still the same sharp, quick-witted girl I remembered. She was a law student with beautiful, honey-blonde hair that cascaded down her back in loose, effortless waves. Her deep brown eyes held a glint of stubbornness, a quiet strength that refused to be broken.

Twenty-one-year-old Alessia Romano was no regular girl. She was the daughter of Dante Romano, the leader of the Italian crime syndicate, a ruthless man infamous for his cruelty and lack of humanity. I knew this firsthand, considering that both our families had been at loggerheads with each other for a while now.

The O’Sullivans and the Romanos didn’t always see eye to eye. Although neither Alessia nor I knew the exact cause of our families’ conflicts, we didn’t care to find out. The dispute between our fathers was no concern to us; we still shared a chill bond regardless. Alessia and I weren’t super close—not best friends or anything. But our friendship was solid.

Our families had tried to cause a rift between us, to fill our hearts with hate and disdain toward one another. However, their attempts to tear us apart failed woefully. Neither of us was ready to give in to a fight we knew nothing about. We didn’t see the need to inherit our families’ enemies. Besides, she’d never given me a reason to hate her, nor had I given her a reason to do the same.

Unfortunately for both families, these girls wouldn’t give in to their manipulations. We stood our ground, refusing to be controlled or to play their game of hate and malice. With time, they all just stopped trying to force us into sharing their opinions. It was a complete waste of time—they realized it, and soon, they gave up.

“What about you? What’re you having these days?” Alessia’s voice sliced through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.

“Same old, same old.” I chuckled.

“Hazelnut latte, extra foam?” she asked, brows raised in question.

“You got it,” I said.

Alessia turned to the barista. “Hey, Layla, hazelnut latte with extra foam, please.”

“Coming right up!” the blonde barista replied.

I reached for my purse, my fingers attempting to withdraw my credit card.

“Whoa, what’re you doing?” she asked, her voice stern, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Before I could respond, she added, “We’ll put that on my card, sweetheart.”

I hesitated for a moment, and then a soft chuckle broke from my lips. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

She curved her lips into a knowing grin. “Aww. It’s cute how you think you actually have a say here,” she said, her tone laced with mild sarcasm. Alessia patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. When we bump into each other next, you’re buying.” She paused, beaming. “I can only hope it’ll be in a Gucci store.”

I laughed.

We moved to a small corner, settling into cushioned chairs, and soon after, my order arrived.

“Thank you, Layla,” Alessia and I chanted with one voice, low and even.

The barista wore a charming smile, her gaze shifting across the two of us. “You’re welcome. Enjoy.” She dematerialized.

“So, how’s life?” we chorused—again.

And then it happened again. “Jinx.”

I lowered my head, laughing, and she did the same, memories of our old days flooding back into our minds.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Alessia said, her laughter gradually fading away. “Well, as you already know, I’m studying law. But here’s the interesting part.” She leaned in, enthusiasm coloring her eyes. “You’re looking at the next in line to become part of the Romano legal team.”

My brows rose in astonishment. “Wow, that’s amazing, Alessia!”

“I know, right?” She chuckled, reclining in her chair, her cup at her lips.

“You must be incredibly proud of yourself,” I said, my eyes crinkling at the corners. “Carrying on the family legacy is such a big deal.”

She heaved a sigh, her grin broadening. “It is, actually. Sometimes, it’s scary, too, if I’m being honest,” she added, her voice trailing off.

I squinted, tilting my head slightly at the momentary concern that flashed in her gaze. I extended my hand across the table between us, my palm resting on hers. “I get it. I understand. But hey, you’re smart, intelligent, driven, and passionate.” My lips curved into an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this.”

She reciprocated my gesture with a soft exhale. “Thank you. But enough about me.” She edged closer. “What about you?”

I didn’t realize how broad my smile was until I caught her grin, brows raised.

“Wow! This should be juicy,” she said, her tone laced with enthusiasm.

I sipped my latte, reclining in my chair with thoughts of Liam occupying my mind.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she blurted out, impatient. “Go ahead, spit it out already.”

I raised my hand just a tad and wiggled my ring finger, the diamond jewel glinting in the soft light.

Her eyes widened in a pleasant surprise, brows arching in the process. Her gasp was rather theatrical when she said, “Shut the front door. You’re getting married?”

I laughed, my cheeks flushing. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, my God, Scarlett, that’s wonderful news!” She reached out across the table, her fingers intertwined with mine. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

A wider grin spread across my face. “Liam Callahan.”

“Wait, like, Liam Callahan of the Callahan family?” she asked, eyes shining so bright.

“Yes. Him.” I pursed my lips, suppressing my smile.

She threw herself back in her chair. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”

“Relax, it’s not that big a deal,” I said amidst chuckles, trying to sound as modest as I could.

Her brows flew up, a playful glare dancing in her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal? You’re kidding me, right?” She laughed, leaning forward, with both hands on the table, her eyes boring into mine. “It’s gonna be the wedding of the century!”

I found her enthusiasm and support rather fascinating, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling to my ears.

“We’re talking about a rare union between two power families, and you say it’s not that big a deal—girl, it is the deal,” Alessia added, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Look, it’s gonna be a big wedding, fancy venue, classic dress….”

My laughter interrupted her, my heart filled with pure bliss.

“I’m serious here,” she said, chuckling.

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, Alessia,” I said, looking right at her. “I really do. But trust me, it’s not gonna be as elaborate as you think.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” she muttered, sipping from her cup.

“It’s gonna be a regular wedding, Alessia—just two ordinary people coming together in holy matrimony,” I explained, my tone casual.

“Okay, first, there’s absolutely nothing ordinary about you and Liam,” she began, her hands demonstrating her words. “And second, such a union isn’t supposed to be ‘regular’,” she added, air-quoting the word.

I relaxed in my chair, watching her rant. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed our time together.

Alessia heaved a sigh. “Anyway, you know best, and it just so happens that I trust your judgment,” she concluded, fingers tapping against her cup.

“Thank you,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean I agree with it, though,” she added almost immediately, a playful scowl settling on her face. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”

“And I appreciate that.” I laughed, loving how her free spirit elevated mine.

“So, when’s the wedding anyway?” she asked.

“Um….” I scratched the back of my head, unsure of her reaction.

“Um, what?” She cocked her head to the side, eyes laced with suspicion. “Scarlett…when’s the wedding happening?” Her voice dropped to a low whisper, a little bit menacing.

“Okay, don’t freak out,” I said, my voice laced with a hint of caution.

A dry chuckle left her lips. “Why would I freak out?” She cast a serious look at me.

I avoided her gaze, my eyes darting across the space. “It’s in, um…three….”

“Three months?” she asked, and before I could respond, she added, “I can work with that.”

I pursed my lips, managing to meet her gaze with an expression that clearly told her she was mistaken.

“Wait, three weeks from now?” Her voice rose a little higher than normal.

My expression remained, and my heart gradually started to race in my chest.

Her eyes widened as the realization set in, stealing her breath.

Alright, here we go—in three, two, one, I thought to myself, anticipating an exaggerated reaction.

I got one.

“Three days! Are you kidding me?” she snapped.

“In my defense, I did tell you not to freak out,” I said, sipping my latte. I needed that right now.

“Bullshit.” She dropped into the backrest of her chair. “Hold on a minute, how come I didn’t hear about this on social media or something?”

“Like I said, we didn’t want something loud and elaborate,” I explained, “although a few bloggers did somehow get their hands on the information.”

She folded her arms across her chest, watching me with raised eyebrows, her mock frown settling perfectly on her face.

“Come on, don’t look at me like that,” I pleaded.

“Why? So you don’t feel guilty? So you don’t feel bad about not telling me sooner?”

“I literally just bumped into you,” I said, gesturing in her direction, my tone defensive.

“Maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But you could’ve called…or texted….”

My own guilt gnawed at me like an empty pit in my stomach. “Shit, I’m a terrible person. I’m sorry. You’re right; I should’ve reached out.”

“Mm-hmm.” She just sat there, arms still crossed, her eyes fixed on me.

I resorted to a bit of emotional blackmail, playing the sympathy card. I put on my best sad face and puppy-dog eyes, which I knew she couldn’t ignore.

“No. Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “You don’t get to do that.”

Still, I was relentless, beaming my most pitiful look at her, and I’d keep this up until she budged.

“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled, her expression softening by the second. “You’re guilt-tripping me. Stop it!”

I refused, making even bigger pleading eyes. She was breaking; I could see it. I could see the slight crack in her countenance, and it was only a matter of now before she’d give in.

“Dang it!” she groaned, quietly slamming a hand on the table. “You manipulative little devil,” she cussed, her lips pressing together to suppress the smile threatening to break free.

“You know you can’t stay mad at me,” I teased, chuckling slightly.

“I hate that I can’t,” she admitted, struggling not to give in to the laughter lingering on her lips.

However, she could only hold it in for so long. Alessia’s resolve was short-lived as my infectious laughter soon won her over, and she found herself swept up in the hilarity.

She lowered her head, her body shuddering as she laughed in silence, embarrassed at how quickly I was able to coax her into forgiving my shortcomings. “You’re an annoying little demon; you know that, right?”

“But you love me that way,” I said, my eyes shining with mirth.

“That’s the only luck you have right now,” she said, raising her head to meet my gaze, her lips twitching at the corners.

“So, you’ll be there, right?” I asked, a hint of skepticism creeping into my tone.

She heaved a heavy sigh. “Three days is such a short time, and I have a lot on my plate at the moment.” She paused for a while, then said, “But I’ll try to be there. I have to be there.”

“Hey, no pressure, okay? The time frame is a little short, and you have exams around the corner—I get it. So, if it’s not going to be convenient for you, I’ll understand.”

“Would you use that as an excuse not to show up at my wedding? Nice try, but no,” she objected.

I laughed. “Why do you have to see everything as manipulation if it comes from me?”

“Can you blame me?” She raised an eyebrow, smiling. Alessia exhaled sharply. “I’ll try to be there, Scarlett. No promises, but I’ll try,” she concluded with a soft tone and even softer expression.

“Thanks, Alessia,” I said, my lips curling into a simple smile.

And just like that, Alessia and I spent the next hour catching up on old times. She offered some really nice ideas for my wedding, and they all made sense. I was glad to have run into her this evening, especially because our little time together was full of joy, happiness, and bliss.