Chapter 10 – Gaspare
Power is a strange thing.
You can hold it in your hands and still not know what to do with it.
I thought I had everything under control. The marriage. The appearances. The carefully curated illusion of stability. Marrying Almeria was supposed to be about strategy—a move to outmaneuver my enemies, to make it known that she was under my protection, thus rendering her untouchable.
And yet, the longer I stand beside her, the more I realize I’m the one who feels vulnerable.
Not because I fear betrayal. Certainly not because I fear weakness.
But because I’m starting to feel something I haven’t felt in years.
Hope.
The event tonight is more than a formality.
It’s a declaration.
Tonight’s event is a gala hosted by one of the most powerful families in the region. Everyone who matters in the syndicate will be there. Businessmen, politicians, enforcers—the ones who operate in shadows, and the ones who pretend they don’t.
It’s the first time Almeria and I will appear in public as husband and wife. We haven’t been out together in public since we got married, except for the few times I showed up at the park or at the grocery stores to remind her that I’m just a call or text away.
I don’t want to portray us as a couple joined just on paper or only in headlines by gossip blogs and every other news outlet that carries the latest from our part of the world.
But together.
We are the Colosimos. The Spadaforas. The joined houses.
The message I want to pass daily is clear: she belongs to me.
But it’s more than that.
Because somewhere between all the calculated steps, I stopped thinking of her as a pawn.
And started seeing her as something else entirely.
She descends the staircase like a storm in silk and I feel a stab in my chest that I haven’t taken her anywhere that would make her dress up like this since the wedding.
Her dress is black and fitted. Long enough to brush the marble with every step she takes. It clings to her curves and catches the light in ways that make it hard to breathe. Her hair is pulled back, exposing the sharp angle of her jaw and the delicate line of her neck.
She’s not wearing much jewelry. Just a pair of diamond earrings and a bracelet I bought her last week.
But oh my, she glows.
Every eye in the room will be on her tonight.
And I don’t know whether to be proud or afraid.
"You're staring," she says when she reaches the bottom, snapping her fingers in my face.
"Can you blame me?" I chuckle, catching her hand and planting a kiss on it.
Her lips twitch. "Try not to look so smug. This was your idea."
"And a good one. I should have ideas like this more often."
She rolls her eyes but takes my arm when I offer it.
We’re about to walk out when she stops and calls for someone in the kitchen. The staff comes running out, greeting me politely before turning to face her.
“Luca goes to sleep by 8. No later, please. No matter what he says. No matter how adorable he sets his eyes,” she instructs.
I watch in adoration as she continues to issue instructions about the house to the housekeeper. I can’t believe she thought I’d interfere in her parenting.
What gave her that impression, I have no idea.
I haven’t fathered anyone before and I didn’t exactly have a wonderful example of a template. But Luca is her first child, born through the toughest time of her life and yet, she mothers him like I wish I was.
“That will be all now. Thank you so much for the work you do, Lisa,” she concludes, smiling at the woman.
Lisa grins back at her and I can tell that she enjoys working for and with Almeria.
“Shall we?” I ask, kissing her hand again.
She gives me a nod, trying to stop herself from smiling so she can act like she doesn’t like me kissing her hands.
We walk out together, the car waiting for us in the driveway.
We look the part.
But inside, everything feels like it’s shifting.
It takes an hour and a half to get to the event, since Almeria’s mansion is on the outskirts of town.
The venue is grand. Ornate ceilings, chandeliers that drip with crystal, golden accents in every corner. The kind of place meant to impress and intimidate.
As we walk in, heads turn.
The music dips. Whispers rise.
I feel her fingers tighten slightly on my arm. It’s subtle, but I notice.
"Ignore them," I murmur.
"Easy for you to say."
"They’re already beneath you. They just don’t know it yet."
Her eyes flash at that, and I feel a surge of something hot in my chest.
We make our way through the crowd.
I exchange greetings. Shake hands. Accept praise and calculated compliments. Almeria stays composed, poised, answering when spoken to but offering little else.
Until we reach the Don of the Bianchi family.
He looks at her like she’s meat.
"So this is the woman who turned the cold-blooded Colosimo into a husband," he says, eyes sweeping her frame.
I step in front of her slightly.
"She’s also the reason your men haven’t been wiped off the map."
His smirk fades.
Almeria leans in just enough to be heard.
"Careful, Don Bianchi. My husband doesn’t like to be mocked."
Her voice is sugar and venom.
I almost kiss her right there.
I like the face she’s wearing tonight. A fierce heroine, not a naive little maiden hiding in her husband’s shadow.
As the night goes on, the tension diffuses.
Almeria relaxes, getting comfortable with the crowd and the attention that shifts to us every once in a while.
She’s still guarded, no doubt. But she’s less tense now. Enough to sip wine and speak more openly. Enough to let me rest my hand against the small of her back without flinching.
But I feel it building.
The heat. The awareness.
Every time our eyes meet, something passes between us. Something unspoken. Heavy. Electric.
I’m losing the ability to pretend.
And so is she. I can tell.
As the night drags on, we find a quiet corner near the balcony.
The air outside is cooler, softer. The sounds of the party blur behind the glass.
"You were perfect tonight," I say.
She snorts. "That was all survival instinct."
"Still. I’m proud of you."
Her smile falters. She looks away.
"Don’t," she says.
"Don’t what?"
"Don’t say things like that unless you mean them."
I move closer.
"I do mean them. Every word."
She doesn’t step back.
"I don’t know what this is between us," she whispers.
"It doesn’t have to be anything right now. Just honest."
Her eyes find mine.
"And is it honest for you? This marriage? Me?"
"I thought it was strategy," I say. "But now? Now it’s the only part of my life that feels real."
She blinks.
And I see it—the exact moment she lets her guard down.
Just a little.
And it’s all I need.
The night ends finally and we say our goodbyes.
I’m surprised to find out Almeria has made a couple of friends that she leaves me to exchange kisses on the cheek with before we leave the hall.
Settled back in the car, we don’t speak, our social batteries worn out.
Well, hers more than mine. I can tell this is still new territory for her and I’m grateful she even agreed to come in the first place.
Her hand finds mine in the dark.
And for the first time since this began, I don’t feel like I’m pretending to be her husband.
I feel like I already am.
And I want it.
Not for power. Not for the syndicate. For us.
Because I’m falling for her. Faster than I thought I could or would.