Page 3 of Luca
My phone buzzes. Paolo, my lieutenant, texting about tonight's shipment. Business doesn't stop for weddings. Tomorrow's ceremony is providing cover for moving three containers of very expensive, very illegal cargo through the port.
"I need to handle some things," I say, standing.
“The bachelor party is at nine,” he says without looking up. It’s not a request
“I’ll be there."
The “party” will be a pack of drunk men pretending to enjoy overpriced whiskey and bored dancers. I’ll show my face, drink just enough to look like I’m celebrating, and then disappear into the VIP room to settle disputes over territory while the music keeps curious ears away.
I leave the study, the portraits of dead Romanos glaring down at me as I pass. They all look like they died angry. Probably did.
This life doesn’t breed happiness, it breeds survivors.
Paolo buzzes my phone again. “Everything’s in place,” he says. “Shipment hits the docks at eleven. And the Mancini problem is handled. The word’s spread. No one else is going to get ideas.”
That’s how you run a business. Make an example once, and ten other problems disappear.
When I hang up, my thoughts drift to tomorrow. Sofia Arcari becomes Sofia Romano. Two families tie themselves together with vows no one means but everyone will enforce. She’ll smile when told, keep her opinions to herself, and look pretty on my arm when the occasion calls for it.
I’ll keep running the empire and expanding our reach. Making decisions that keep our family feared and respected from Naples to Milan.
The only difference is a gold band on my finger.
I walk out onto the terrace. Rome spreads below like a kingdom, all ancient stones and modern corruption. My kingdom, or it will be when my father steps down soon. Every politician in the city owes us favors. Half the police force is on our payroll. The other half knows better than to ask too many questions.
This is what Sofia's marrying into. Not a man, but an empire.
She has no idea what she's in for.
In those awkward dinners, she asked me once about my “work.” I told her importing. She nodded as if that explained everything, probably picturing crates of wine and olive oil instead of the real contents.
My phone buzzes again. It’s Lucia this time. Red hair, warm mouth. We’ve been fucking for two months, and her message is explicit.
After tomorrow, I'll need to be more discreet. Married men have reputations to maintain. But marriage won't change my appetites. Sofia can have the title and the ring. Other women can have everything else.
I text Lucia back, suggesting she find new entertainment. By tomorrow night, I'll be a married man. Time to clean house.
She responds with a string of angry emojis and a threat to tell my new wife.
Let her try. Men in my world are expected to have affairs. Discretion is the only requirement.
The sun burns the last of the morning haze off the city. In twenty-four hours, I’ll stand at an altar, promising to honor a woman I barely know.
The words will be lies. But they’ll hold weight.
Because marriage isn’t about love.
It’s about ownership.
And tomorrow, Sofia Arcari will be mine.
Whether she’s ready or not.
Chapter 3: Gabriella
I arrive at the villa before dawn after twelve hours on crowded trains. The backdoor is unlocked the way Sofia said it would be. I quickly sneak upstairs to her bedroom before anyone sees me.
The house is too quiet for a wedding day. No bustling staff or delivery trucks. Just dead silence as if this is a day for a funeral instead of a wedding.
