His Ruthless Claim (Devils in Armani Suits #2)

35. Skye

35

SKYE

T he bell chimes as Maria sweeps into my boutique, her curls bouncing with each step. She's carrying an armload of wedding magazines, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. The space has transformed into wedding headquarters over the past few weeks, with fabric swatches and flower samples covering every surface.

"I found the perfect shade." Maria spreads a length of champagne silk across the counter. "What do you think?"

"It's gorgeous." I run my fingers over the fabric. "And it'll complement the bridesmaids' dresses perfectly."

Jazz strides in, bringing her signature confidence and a burst of energy. "Please tell me we're not doing another round of color comparisons." She drops onto the velvet settee, crossing her legs. "I swear if I have to look at one more shade of beige?—"

"They're called neutrals," Maria corrects, but her warm eyes sparkle with amusement.

Kendra follows, already shaking her head. "Girl, you know damn well Jazz wouldn't know a neutral if it slapped her in the face." She perches on the arm of the settee. "Remember when she tried to convince us hot pink was appropriate for a funeral?"

"It was a celebration of life," Jazz protests.

Mikayla emerges from the dressing room in a half-pinned bridesmaid dress, careful not to disturb the delicate beadwork. "I think it's romantic." She twirls, the fabric swishing around her ankles. "Though maybe we should add more security for the actual wedding? Given everything that's been happening..."

The room goes quiet. Even in these lighter moments, we can't escape the shadow of what's brewing in Chicago. Maria's smile falters for a split second before she recovers.

"Don't worry about security." I keep my voice steady, remembering the way Luca's jaw had tightened when discussing wedding preparations. "Everything's been arranged."

"Speaking of arrangements." Kendra leans forward, her eyes sharp. "Any word on which of our lovely crime families might try to crash the party?"

"Kendra," Jazz warns.

"What? We're all thinking it." Kendra shrugs. "Might as well address the elephant wearing Valentino in the room."

I shake my head. "Let's focus on what we can control." I pull out the seating chart I've been working on. "The Romanos want to be closer to the dance floor, but I've arranged them near the garden entrance instead. Better sightlines to the exits, plus it keeps them away from the Vitales."

Maria's shoulders relax. "That's... actually perfect. Lorenzo will feel like he has the advantage without realizing you've essentially contained his whole crew to one section."

"And the Mantiones?" Jazz arches an eyebrow.

"Head table, naturally. Though I've made sure to separate certain... volatile elements." I tap different spots on the chart. "Your father's crew gets prime position, Maria. But notice how I've scattered the younger members throughout? Keeps anyone from getting too comfortable."

Kendra whistles low. "Damn, girl. You're playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers."

I send the four of them off to change then, and I'm grinning when they come back.

"The old guard appreciates tradition." I adjust a pin on Mikayla's dress. I wanted to do all my bridesmaid's dresses. "So we're keeping all the classic elements – the church ceremony, the formal procession, the blessing. But we're adding modern touches that make strategic sense. Like having the cocktail hour in the conservatory instead of the main hall."

"Where there's better security coverage," Maria notes with approval. "And multiple exit points."

"Plus it lets us control the flow of guests." I smooth down the fabric at Mikayla's waist. "Everyone feels respected, but we maintain oversight of who mingles with whom."

Jazz leans back, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Look at you, running this shit like a military operation in Louboutins."

"The families respect strength," I say, meeting her gaze. "But they also respect someone who knows how to show proper deference. It's about balance."

Maria squeezes my hand. "You're good at this. Better than I could've hoped for." The gratitude in her eyes speaks volumes about the pressure she's under.

"That's because she understands both sides of the coin," Kendra observes. "Glamorous enough to charm the old ladies, sharp enough to see through the politics."

I catch my reflection in the mirror – perfectly styled hair, designer dress, manicured nails. The polished exterior that lets me navigate their world while orchestrating every detail from the shadows. Just like Luca taught me, though I'd never admit that to him.

The boutique's bell chimes again, and Enzo's tall frame fills the doorway. His presence shifts the energy in the room – there's always something dangerous about Luca's men, even when they're just doing routine checks. And he likes to come check on Maria, make sure no Cappallettis are sniffing around.

"Everything good here?" His gray eyes scan the space before landing on Maria. The tattoos on his forearms ripple as he crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

But before Maria can answer, Kendra rounds the corner from the back room, arms full of garment bags. She freezes mid-step, her eyes locking with Enzo's. The garment bags slip, and he moves with startling speed to catch them before they hit the floor.

"I got it," Kendra says, but her voice lacks its usual sass. Their fingers brush as she tries to take the bags back.

"Let me help." Enzo's voice drops lower, rougher. He doesn't release the bags, instead using them as an excuse to step closer.

I watch the interaction with interest. Kendra, who never backs down from anyone, seems caught between wanting to maintain her usual attitude and being drawn into Enzo's orbit. The tension between them crackles like electricity.

"You always manhandle other people's property?" Kendra finds her voice, arching an eyebrow.

"Only when it's falling." A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "You could try saying thank you."

"I could…" Her eyes drag up and down her frame. "But you should know I'm the kind of girl that does what I want, not what I should .

Jazz shoots me a look that says she's caught the double meaning too. Maria watches the exchange with poorly concealed delight, while Mikayla pretends to be very interested in her phone.

Kendra and Enzo move to hang the garment bags, and I notice how he positions himself to keep her in his line of sight. His usual predatory grace has shifted into something more... intentional. Every movement seems calculated to bring him closer to her.

"I haven't seen you here before." It's not a question. Enzo's eyes track Kendra's movements as she organizes the dresses.

She shrugs, but I see the way Kendra is eyeing him. "I come and go. Maybe you have."

"No, I'd remember you." The words come out like a growl, low and promising.

The air in the boutique feels charged, heavy with possibility. I recognize that look in Enzo's eyes – it's the same way Luca looks at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention. Like he's found something unexpected and fascinating, something he wants to claim.

Well, that is going to be interesting.

Jazz and Kendra wave Maria and Mikayla over to us in the VIP section of The Vault. The club pulses with energy, but Luca's men keep a careful perimeter, ensuring our privacy. Maria loops her arm through mine, leading me to a velvet booth where bottles of champagne wait in crystal buckets.

"To the woman who's managed to do the impossible." Jazz raises her glass. "Not only did you tame the most dangerous man in Chicago, but you've got every family eating out of your hand with this wedding planning."

"I wouldn't say tamed." I take a sip, the bubbles dancing on my tongue. The truth is more complicated – Luca isn't something to be tamed. He's like a force of nature, controlled but deadly. And somehow, I've learned to dance in the storm.

"Please." Kendra snorts. "That man would burn down half the city if you asked him to. Though he'd probably do it in the most efficient way possible."

Maria laughs, but there's understanding in her eyes. She's known Luca longer than any of us, seen the emptiness that used to define him. "You've changed him, you know. Not completely – God knows that's impossible – but enough that he actually shows up to family dinners now."

"Speaking of family." Mikayla leans in, her eyes sparkling from champagne. "Did you ever think you'd end up here? Running your boutique, planning mafia weddings, engaged to?—"

"The scariest motherfucker in Chicago?" Kendra finishes with a grin.

I trace the rim of my glass, thinking of the way Luca looked at me this morning before leaving for business. That intensity that used to unnerve me now feels like home. "I always knew I wanted more than just a normal life. But this?" I gesture to the club, to the guards, to my friends. "This is better than anything I could have imagined."

"Because you built it yourself," Kendra says firmly. "Every connection, every alliance, every decision – that was all you."

She's right. In Luca's world of power and control, I've carved out my own space. Not as his shadow, but as his equal. Different, but just as formidable in my own way.

"To building our own empires," Maria raises her glass again, and I catch the gleam in her eye that reminds me she's every bit a Mantione, despite her gentle nature.

"To making them remember our names," Jazz adds.

The music thrums through my bones as I clink my glass against theirs, surrounded by women who understand both the darkness and the light of the life we've chosen. Tomorrow I'll marry a man who terrifies most of Chicago, but tonight, I celebrate the power I've built for myself.