Page 35 of Luca

Then I kiss her shoulder, still buried deep inside her. “Next time,” I tell her, my voice low and final, “you start that dance in my lap… so I can finish it before you ever hit the chorus.”

Chapter 13: Gabriella

The dress Luca chose for the party tonight makes me look like a different person. It's shimmery silver silk that hugs every curve. The neckline dips low enough to hint without giving away the game. A mafia wife’s version of a loaded weapon. The fabric moves like water when I walk, and the heels he sent with it make my legs appear endless.

I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Sofia would never wear anything this bold. But apparently Luca likes his wife to make an impression.

“You look like trouble,” he says from the doorway, the sound curling down my spine like warm smoke. His eyes take their time traveling over me, slow and proprietary, lingering where the silk hugs tightest.

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s a warning.”

He's in a perfectly tailored black suit that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and the danger in his eyes. His hair is slicked back, and he smells delicious.

He looks like exactly what he is.

A dangerous man who owns the world and everyone in it.

"Ready?" he asks, offering his arm.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

***

The party is at a sprawling estate owned by one of his family's oldest allies. The driveway is lined with expensive cars. Inside, the mansion is filled with people who make their living in shadows – politicians, judges, and businessmen whose companies are fronts for less legal enterprises.

And their wives. Beautiful, polished women who smile with their mouths but not their eyes, who know exactly what their husbands do and have made peace with it.

I'm supposed to be one of them now.

"Stay close," Luca murmurs in my ear as we enter the main ballroom. "Smile, be polite, and don't ask too many questions."

"Got it. Be a good little wife. Seen and not heard."

"That's not what I meant."

Sure it is. I watch the other wives drift through conversations like silent ghosts, agreeing with whatever their husbands say, looking beautiful and saying nothing of substance.

The host, Don Medici, approaches with his arms wide. "Luca! And the beautiful bride. Sofia, you look radiant."

"Thank you. The villa is stunning."

He takes my hand and kisses it in the old-fashioned way. "I knew your father when he was young. A good man. You have his eyes."

Actually, I have our mother’s eyes, but close enough.

"Marriage suits you both," he continues, looking between us. "There's something different about you, Luca. You seem more settled."

"My wife has that effect on me," Luca says, and the way he says it makes me wonder if he actually means it.

We move through the party, making appropriate conversation with the right people. I smile and nod, and everyone seems satisfied that Luca Romano has married exactly the type of woman they expected.

Then I see her.

A redhead standing near the bar, wearing a daringly low-cut dress and watching us with predatory eyes. Even from across the room, I sense her hostility coming off in waves towards me.

"Who's that?" I ask Luca quietly.