Chapter 13 Gabriella
The dress Luca chose for the party tonight makes me look like a different person.
It's shimmery silver silk that hugs every curve. The neckline dips low enough to hint without giving away the game. A mafia wife’s version of a loaded weapon.
The fabric moves like water when I walk, and the heels he sent with it make my legs appear endless.
I barely recognize myself in the mirror. Sofia would never wear anything this bold. But apparently Luca likes his wife to make an impression.
“You look like trouble,” he says from the doorway, the sound curling down my spine like warm smoke. His eyes take their time traveling over me, slow and proprietary, lingering where the silk hugs tightest.
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s a warning.”
He's in a perfectly tailored black suit that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and the danger in his eyes. His hair is slicked back, and he smells delicious.
He looks like exactly what he is.
A dangerous man who owns the world and everyone in it.
"Ready?" he asks, offering his arm.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
***
The party is at a sprawling estate owned by one of his family's oldest allies. The driveway is lined with expensive cars. Inside, the mansion is filled with people who make their living in shadows – politicians, judges, and businessmen whose companies are fronts for less legal enterprises.
And their wives. Beautiful, polished women who smile with their mouths but not their eyes, who know exactly what their husbands do and have made peace with it.
I'm supposed to be one of them now.
"Stay close," Luca murmurs in my ear as we enter the main ballroom. "Smile, be polite, and don't ask too many questions."
"Got it. Be a good little wife. Seen and not heard."
"That's not what I meant."
Sure it is. I watch the other wives drift through conversations like silent ghosts, agreeing with whatever their husbands say, looking beautiful and saying nothing of substance.
The host, Don Medici, approaches with his arms wide. "Luca! And the beautiful bride. Sofia, you look radiant."
"Thank you. The villa is stunning."
He takes my hand and kisses it in the old-fashioned way. "I knew your father when he was young. A good man. You have his eyes."
Actually, I have our mother’s eyes, but close enough.
"Marriage suits you both," he continues, looking between us. "There's something different about you, Luca. You seem more settled."
"My wife has that effect on me," Luca says, and the way he says it makes me wonder if he actually means it.
We move through the party, making appropriate conversation with the right people. I smile and nod, and everyone seems satisfied that Luca Romano has married exactly the type of woman they expected.
Then I see her.
A redhead standing near the bar, wearing a daringly low-cut dress and watching us with predatory eyes. Even from across the room, I sense her hostility coming off in waves towards me.
"Who's that?" I ask Luca quietly.
He follows my gaze. "No one important. Excuse me, I need to speak with my uncle."
He leaves me with a group of wives who immediately start discussing jewelry and vacation homes with the enthusiasm of people who have nothing more interesting to talk about. I half-listen while keeping a cautious eye on the redhead, who's now making her way across the room.
Straight toward me.
"You must be Sofia," she says when she reaches our group. Her smile is bright and fake. "I'm Lucia, an old friend of Luca’s. We go way back."
The conversation goes quiet and the other wives suddenly find reasons to drift away, leaving us alone.
"Nice to meet you," I say carefully.
"Oh, don’t worry. We'll be seeing a lot of each other since we socialize in the same circles." She takes a sip of champagne, her eyes never leaving mine. "Luca and I have an understanding. I'm sure he's explained the arrangement to you?"
Arrangement?
"I'm sorry, I’m not sure what you mean."
"About the ongoing arrangement between Luca and I. Marriage is business, darling. Everyone knows that. What happens outside the marriage... well, that's personal." Her smile gets wider. "He called me yesterday, actually. To resume our usual schedule now that the wedding nonsense is over."
Luca called her? To what? Set up a fuck date?
After everything that's happened between us? After the way he's been looking at me, touching me?
I don't let it show. I've had years of practice keeping my face neutral when people try to hurt me. No way is this bitch going to see any reaction on my face.
"How nice for you," I say politely.
"I thought you should know. To avoid any awkward misunderstandings later." Lucia finishes her champagne. "You seem sweet. A bit sheltered, maybe, but that's what men like Luca prefer in wives. Quiet and easy to manage."
Every word is designed to hurt, and they're working. Not because I care about being called sheltered or easy to manage. I truly don’t give a shit, but because she's talking about Sofia. My sister, who would’ve been devastated if she were the one standing here, listening to this bitch talk about setting up fuck dates with her husband.
"I should get back to the party," I say. “Nice to meet you.”
"Of course. Enjoy your evening, Sofia. I know I'll enjoy mine."
She walks away, hips swaying, and I'm left standing there trying not to shake with rage.
Not at her.
She’s an idiot who isn’t worth my time worrying about.
I’m furious at him.
Because if Lucia's telling the truth, and her confidence suggests she is. Then Luca was planning to cheat on Sofia from day one. And was also planning to cheat on me, thinking I'm Sofia even now.
Bastard!
I glance across the room and find him deep in conversation with two men who look like they strangle people for a living. Probably do. He's nodding seriously, completely absorbed in whatever business they're discussing.
Suddenly I realize I can't do this anymore tonight.
I can't stand here smiling and playing the perfect wife while knowing he's planning to fuck other women the moment he can slip away from me.
I need air.
I need to get away from all of this before I do something that blows my cover completely.
I slip out of the ballroom and find a bathroom where I can think in peace.
But thinking just makes me angrier. Sofia deserved better than this.
Whatever her reasons for running, she was right to get away from a man who saw marriage as a business transaction and fidelity as optional.
How dare Luca treat my sweet sister in this way?
When I come out of the bathroom, I don't go back to the party.
Fuck him.
Instead, I find a side exit and walk out into the night air.
The streets are alive with people heading to clubs and bars, tourists and locals mixing in chaotic energy that's been calling to me for days.
I can hear music coming from a club a few blocks away, something with a bass line that vibrates through my chest.
I glance back at the villa, where Luca might be wondering where his wife disappeared to.
Then I start walking toward the music calling out to me.
The club is exactly what I need, dark and loud. The sort of place where I can disappear into the crowd and remember who I am when I'm not pretending to be someone else.
I order a shot of tequila at the bar and down it before asking for another. The alcohol burns, but it also loosens the knot of anger in my chest. I pull out double the amount owed from my dainty purse and slap it down on the bar before turning towards the dance floor.
The dance floor is packed with bodies moving to a beat that's probably too loud and definitely too sexy for a Romano wife.
But I'm not feeling like a Romano wife right now.
I'm feeling like Gabriella, who spent a year dancing in clubs across South America and knows exactly how to lose herself in music.
Whether in a packed crowd or all alone.