The chandelier glittered above like a thousand captured stars, music swirled through the grand ballroom, and laughter echoed around walls built for power. But beneath the shimmer of champagne glasses and designer gowns, danger pulsed like an invisible heartbeat.
I tugged uncomfortably at the silk gown Clara had forced me into. "Why am I even here?" I whispered.
Luca, immaculate in a tailored black suit, adjusted his cufflinks without looking at me. "Because appearances matter."
"To everyone watching," he said, eyes scanning the crowd. "They need to see you at my side."
"No," he said finally, gaze cutting to me, sharp and soft all at once. "You’re my shield. My anchor. The reason they think twice before crossing me."
I huffed, crossing my arms. "That sounds worse than being a prop."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "You make even that sound dangerous."
Before I could argue, a man with silver hair approached, his grin too wide to be friendly. "Don Luca, the man of the hour. And this must be the infamous wife we’ve all heard whispers about."
My stomach knotted. Luca’s arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer. "Whispers are dangerous things, Enzo. They tend to end with blood on the floor."
Enzo chuckled. "Still dramatic as ever. Relax. I only wanted to congratulate you... on both your empire and your bride." His gaze slid over me, lingering too long.
I stiffened. Luca’s grip tightened. "Look at her again like that, and I’ll rip your eyes out before dessert."
The air between them sparked. Guests turned discreetly to watch.
I whispered urgently, "Luca, stop. Everyone’s staring."
He didn’t blink. "Let them."
Enzo smirked. "Careful, Deluca. You’re slipping. Love makes men weak."
"And greed makes men stupid," Luca shot back.
Enzo tipped his glass, retreating into the crowd. But his words lingered like smoke.
I turned to Luca. "What was that?"
"A reminder," he muttered, scanning the room again. "That no one here is a friend."
I swallowed. "Then why throw this party?"
"Because enemies need to see the face of the man they’re planning to betray. Keeps them cautious."
His eyes flicked to mine, softer now. "You’re the only thing that keeps me sane in this circus."
The words lodged in my chest before I could answer.
A waiter passed, offering champagne. I took a glass with shaking hands, needing something to ground me. But when I sipped, bitterness coated my tongue. Too bitter. Wrong.
I froze. Updates are released by 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲·𝗻𝗲𝘁
"Luca," I whispered urgently. "Something’s wrong."
His gaze snapped to me, then to the glass. He grabbed it from my hand, sniffed it, and swore under his breath.
"Poison," he muttered, shoving the glass into his bodyguard’s hands. "Get it tested. Now."
The music played on, the guests oblivious. But suddenly the glittering ballroom felt like a trap.
"Everyone in this room has motive," Luca said, grabbing my hand firmly. "Stay with me."
Panic rose in my throat. "I could’ve died."
His voice softened for the briefest second. "Not while I’m here."
He pulled me through the crowd, past smiling strangers whose eyes glinted with hidden malice. Every step felt like walking a tightrope above fire.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
We ducked into a side corridor, the noise of the party fading behind heavy doors. My breath trembled out of me.
"Don’t." His hand slammed against the wall beside me, caging me in. His other hand gripped mine like he’d never let go. His eyes burned into mine. "You scared the hell out of me."
"I scared you?" I whispered. "I was the one almost poisoned."
"You think I don’t know that?" His voice cracked, raw. "One sip more, one second later, and you’d" He broke off, jaw tight, like the words themselves were unbearable.
Tears stung my eyes. "Why do you care so much?"
His breath was ragged. "Because I can’t lose you."
"No buts." His forehead pressed to mine, desperate, unyielding. "I’ve lost enough in my life. I won’t bury you too."
Silence pressed heavy between us.
"Luca..." My voice faltered.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. "You don’t understand. You’re not just my wife on paper. Not anymore. Tonight proved it."
My chest ached, confusion and longing tangling inside me. "You’re scaring me."
"Good," he whispered harshly. "Because I’m terrified too."
Before I could respond, voices echoed from the ballroom, footsteps, laughter. He straightened, every trace of vulnerability vanishing behind the steel mask of the Don.
"Stay close," he ordered, his arm sliding around me again. "They’ll try again. And when they do..."
"And when they do?" I pressed.
His eyes glinted like cold fire. "I’ll show them what it means to touch what’s mine."
We returned to the party, every glance from the crowd suddenly sharper, every smile laced with suspicion. And though Luca stood tall beside me, powerful and untouchable, I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.
Because tonight wasn’t just a celebration.
It was a declaration of war.
And somehow, I was at the center of it.
The ballroom’s golden light flickered as we reentered, the crowd parting subtly to let us pass. My heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the poison I’d nearly swallowed. Luca’s hand on my lower back was both a comfort and a chain, guiding me through a sea of faces that now seemed to hide daggers behind their smiles. I scanned the room, searching for clues, for any hint of who might have slipped death into my glass. Every guest was a suspect, every gesture a potential threat.
A woman in a sapphire gown caught my eye, her laughter too loud, her gaze too fleeting. Was she watching us? Or was I imagining it? Paranoia crept in, curling around my thoughts like ivy. Luca leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Stop looking for them. They’ll reveal themselves soon enough."
"How can you be so calm?" I hissed, my voice low to avoid prying ears.
"Calm?" His jaw tightened. "I’m a storm inside. But showing it gives them power."
I wanted to argue, to demand how he could stand there so composed when someone had just tried to kill me. But his eyes held mine, steady and fierce, and I saw the truth: he was anything but calm. He was a predator waiting, calculating, ready to strike.
Another man approached, younger than Enzo, with a nervous energy that set my nerves on edge. "Don Luca," he said, bowing slightly. "A word?"
Luca’s expression didn’t change, but his grip on me tightened briefly. "Speak, Marco."
Marco glanced at me, then back to Luca. "In private, perhaps?"
"Anything you say to me, you say in front of her," Luca said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Marco hesitated, then nodded. "There’s talk. About the shipment. Some say it never arrived."
Luca’s eyes narrowed. "And who says that?"
Marco shrugged, too casual. "Just rumors. You know how people talk."
"Rumors," Luca repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "Like whispers, they tend to end badly."
Marco paled but forced a smile. "Just thought you should know."
As he melted back into the crowd, I leaned into Luca. "What was that about?"
"A test," he murmured. "Someone’s fishing for cracks in our armor."
The weight of his world pressed down on me. This wasn’t just a party; it was a battlefield, every conversation a skirmish, every glance a potential ambush. I wasn’t just his wife; I was a piece in a game I barely understood. Yet, as his hand steadied me, I felt a spark of something new, resolve. If I was in this, I wouldn’t be a pawn. I’d learn the rules, and I’d fight.