Chương 5 - The Snake in the Garden
Luca didn't flinch. He casually stepped in front of Luna, shielding her from the cold, calculating eyes of his father and Vincent.
“What kind of problem?” Luca asked, his voice flat.
“Yuri Vulov has left the estate,” Vincent said, crossing his thick arms. “He pulled his men, refused to shake hands, and took the Russian delegates with him. Word on the wire is that he’s already meeting with the Chicago syndicates at an off-grid warehouse in Queens.”
“Let him meet,” Luca replied coldly. “He’s been looking for an excuse to break the treaty for two years. Now he shows his hand.”
Don Salvatore slowly raised his head, his sharp, rheumy eyes fixing on Luna standing behind his son.
“Girl,” the old Don said, his voice echoing with fifty years of undisputed command. “Step out.”
Luna’s stomach dropped. She hesitated, but Luca remained an unmoving wall in front of her.
“Speak to her with respect, Father,” Luca warned, his tone dangerously low. “She is going to be the Don’s wife.”
“She is an undocumented girl from Mexico who scrubbed my foyer yesterday!” Salvatore barked, his face flushing red as he took a step forward, his cane slamming the floor. “Do you think I kept this family alive through three mob wars by playing fairy tales, Luca?! You need a dowry! You need political leverage! Chicago is breathing down our necks, and you bring home a maid?!”
“I brought home someone who isn't trying to slip arsenic into your pasta, old man,” Luca countered fiercely. “You think Vulov was going to let you retire to Sicily? He already bought off two of your harbor masters. Vincent knows it too, don't you, Vincent?”
Vincent Torino’s eyes shifted, a micro-expression of tension flitting across his scarred face before vanishing behind a wall of stone.
“We have rumors, Luca,” Vincent said carefully. “Nothing confirmed.”
“I confirmed it yesterday,” Luca said. “Vulov was going to use the wedding to stage a coup. By marrying Luna, I broke his leverage. Now, if he attacks, he is the aggressor. The Commission will sanction us if we retaliate.”
Don Salvatore stared at his son for a long, agonizing minute. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Slowly, the old man’s shoulders dropped slightly. A heavy, begrudging sigh escaped his lips.
“You have your grandfather’s madness,” Salvatore muttered. He looked past Luca’s shoulder, his gaze landing squarely on Luna. “Can you shoot, girl?”
Luna blinked, completely caught off guard. “What?”
“I asked if you can shoot a gun,” Salvatore repeated impatiently.
“No, señor,” Luna admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I have never held a weapon.”
Salvatore scoffed, shaking his head. “By tomorrow night, you will learn. Vincent, call the tailor. Call the jeweler. If my son insists on presenting this girl as the future matriarch of the Moretti family, she cannot look like she crawled out of the pantry. She needs to look like an empress.”
The old man turned on his heel and began walking toward the door, leaning heavily on his cane. Before stepping out, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
“And Luca?”
“Yes, Father?”
“Sleep with one eye open. The wedding is in five days. If she dies before the vows are spoken, you will marry Katarina Vulov, or I will strip you of your title myself.”
The doors slid shut, leaving only Vincent behind.
The enforcer stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes boring into Luna with an intensity that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
“Congratulations, Luna,” Vincent said, his voice devoid of warmth. “You just won the most dangerous lottery in the world.”
He turned and left, the mechanical locks sealing the penthouse once more.
Luna collapsed onto the nearest sofa, burying her face in her trembling hands. The weight of what had just occurred crashed over her like a tidal wave. In less than two hours, she had gone from an invisible cleaner to the most hated woman in the American mafia.
A gentle weight settled on her shoulders. Luca sat beside her, draping his warm tuxedo jacket over her trembling frame.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice infinitely gentle. He reached down, peeling her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. “Look at me, Luna.”
Her eyes were red, filled with tears she refused to let fall. “They are going to kill me, Luca. Your father’s man... Vincent... he looks at me like I’m already dead.”
Luca’s expression darkened, an icy ruthlessness chilling his features.
“Vincent works for my father,” Luca said quietly. “He doesn't work for me. Tomorrow, I am assigning my two most trusted personal lieutenants to you: Marco and Matteo. They don't leave your side. If you sneeze, they hand you a handkerchief. If someone draws a gun, they take the bullet. Understand?”
“And what about you?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Who protects you?”
Luca looked at her, a faint, devastatingly handsome smirk touching his lips despite the darkness closing in around them.
May you like
“You do, little bird,” he murmured, leaning down until his forehead rested against hers. “You keep me human.”
***
