Chapter 2 - The Bride Who Wasn't Supposed to Stay
I married Luca Moretti six hours after discovering that somebody might have engineered the marriage for reasons neither of us understood.
It should have made saying no easy.
Instead, it made leaving impossible.
Because when Luca found me downstairs twenty minutes later, he didn't pressure me.
He didn't mention my father's debt.
He simply stood near the windows overlooking the lake and said, "A car can take you back to Milan."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"You don't have to do this."
That wasn't what I'd expected from a Mafia boss.
"What happens to my father's debt?"
His jaw tightened.
"Nothing tonight."
"And tomorrow?"
"We'll discuss it."
"That's vague."
"It's supposed to be."
I studied him.
"You're giving me a chance to leave?"
"I'm giving you a choice."
"Did the others get one?"
His eyes hardened.
"Yes."
"And they left."
"Yes."
I wanted to ask about the money.
I wanted to ask whether he knew those women might have been paid.
But Elena had made me promise to wait until we understood more.
So I asked something else.
"Do you want me to stay?"
For perhaps the first time since meeting him, Luca Moretti had no answer ready.
Finally he said, "What I want shouldn't decide what you do."
That answer decided it for me.
"Then I'll stay."
His expression changed.
"Sophia."
"I said I'll stay."
"You've known me less than an hour."
"Technically, I've been in your house almost two."
"That doesn't improve the argument."
I smiled.
And there it was again.
That tiny movement at the corner of his mouth.
The ceremony happened at sunset.
It wasn't romantic.
Not yet.
There were twelve guests, a priest, Elena, several Moretti associates, and enough security to protect a small country.
My father attended by video call.
That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
When the priest asked whether I accepted Luca, I looked up at the giant man beside me.
He didn't look powerful then.
He looked terrified of hearing one word.
No.
"I do."
His eyes met mine.
Something in them broke open.
Then it was his turn.
"I do."
Two words.
Quiet.
Certain.
That night, Luca showed me to a bedroom.
"My room?" I asked.
"Yours."
"Where's yours?"
"Other side of the hall."
I stared at him.
"We're married."
"I'm aware."
"Are you afraid I'll steal the blankets?"
His expression remained perfectly serious.
"I don't know you well enough to evaluate that risk."
I laughed.
He didn't.
Then I realized he was joking.
"You do have a sense of humor."
"Don't tell anyone."
Over the next week, I discovered things about Luca nobody had bothered to tell me.
He woke at five.
He drank coffee without sugar.
He hated loud dinner parties.
He knew the names of every employee at the estate.
He secretly fed an orange cat that appeared outside the kitchen every morning.
And despite being wealthy enough to hire fifty chefs, he couldn't bake.
At all.
On the fourth morning, I found him staring at a bowl of ruined dough.
"What happened?"
"It resisted."
"It's dough."
"Exactly."
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then something remarkable happened.
Luca laughed too.
Not loudly.
But genuinely.
The sound transformed him.
For a moment he wasn't Luca Moretti, feared businessman, enormous man, rejected fiancé.
He was simply Luca.
That was when I began to understand the danger.
Not danger from him.
Danger to me.
I was beginning to like my husband.
Three days later, I decided to bake him a cake.
Nothing elaborate.
Chocolate.
Orange.
Dark ganache.
I was halfway through decorating it when Elena entered the kitchen.
"You look happy."
"That's suspicious?"
"In this family? Extremely."
I lowered the piping bag.
"Have you learned anything?"
Her expression changed.
She closed the kitchen door.
"The company that paid the women."
"Yes?"
"It wasn't your father's."
"But you said—"
"I said the fifth payment passed through Bennett Holdings."
She placed several papers on the counter.
"But the money entered Bennett Holdings forty-eight hours earlier."
"From where?"
"Moretti Imports."
My stomach tightened.
"Luca?"
"No."
She pointed to a signature.
"Marco."
I recognized the name.
The man who had asked Luca whether the wedding ceremony was still happening.
His oldest adviser.
His closest friend.
"Why would Marco pay women to reject Luca?"
"I don't know."
A voice behind us answered.
"Pay which women?"
We froze.
Luca stood in the doorway.
His eyes moved from Elena to me.
Then to the documents.
Nobody spoke.
He walked toward the counter.
"Sophia."
I hated how calm his voice became.
"What is she talking about?"
I looked at Elena.
She looked at me.
There was no hiding it now.
So I told him.
All of it.
The photographs.
The payments.
The five women.
Bennett Holdings.
Marco's signature.
Luca listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he picked up the documents.
His expression gave nothing away.
Then he asked, "Where is Marco?"
Elena whispered, "Luca—"
"Where?"
"I saw him leave twenty minutes ago."
Luca reached for his phone.
Then stopped.
On the kitchen counter beside my unfinished cake sat a small white envelope.
None of us had noticed it before.
My name was written across the front.
SOPHIA.
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
My father.
Standing beside Marco.
The date printed in the corner was seventeen years old.
On the back were six words.
May you like
ASK YOUR FATHER WHO LUCA REALLY IS.
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