Chapter 21 Carmela
CARMELA
Isabella and Sophia are by my side as we step into the bustling shopping mall.
There’s a ball being held tomorrow night, and Isabella suggested we all go and find new dresses for the occasion.
After last night’s intensity—the club, the rescue, the way Silvo claimed every part of me—today feels like a welcome return to something normal.
Isabella turns to me with a warm smile. “I’m so glad we could do this. After everything lately, we all needed a break.”
I nod, feeling grateful for this moment of peace. “Me too. It’s nice to just... be normal for a few hours.”
Sophia links her arm with mine, a mischievous glint in her eye. “And what better way to spend that time than by spending your husband’s money?”
I can’t help but laugh at her boldness. “Sophia, you’re terrible!”
As we weave in and out of stores, trying on dresses and shoes, I find myself opening up to Isabella in a way that feels natural now. We share stories, laugh freely, and for a while, I forget about the weight of my new world.
Isabella’s eyes soften as she listens to me talk about adjusting to life in Philly. “You’ve adapted better than anyone expected. You’re strong, and you have a fire in you that I admire.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. “Thank you, Isabella. That means more to me than you know.”
Sophia, sensing the emotional moment, breaks the tension with a playful nudge. “Okay, enough of the heavy stuff. Let’s go find some lingerie that’ll make Silvo’s jaw drop!”
Isabella makes a sound like she’s going to throw up. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
Sophia chuckles. “Sorry, I forgot.”
As we continue our shopping spree, I find myself genuinely enjoying myself.
We enter a high-end boutique, and Isabella immediately gravitates toward a stunning emerald green dress. She holds it up to her body, and I can’t help but admire how it complements her olive skin and dark hair.
“Isabella, that dress is absolutely perfect for you,” I encourage.
She smiles, a hint of shyness in her eyes. “You think so? I don’t usually splurge on myself like this.”
Sophia chimes in, “Girl, if you don’t buy that dress, I will. And trust me, it won’t look nearly as good on me.”
As Isabella disappears into the fitting room, Sophia turns to me with a knowing look. “So, how’s married life really treating you, Mrs. De Luca?”
I bite my lip, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Honestly? Better than I ever imagined it could be.”
“Oh my god, you’re glowing. What happened to the Carmela who was ready to murder her arranged husband?”
I laugh softly. “She fell in love with him. Hard.”
“I knew it!” Sophia squeals. “After what I saw at the club—the way he looked at you, the way he protected you—that man is head over heels.”
My cheeks heat at the memory. “He is. And so am I. It’s terrifying and amazing and completely unexpected.”
“But?” Sophia prompts, sensing there’s more.
“But this world...” I glance around to make sure no one’s listening. “Last night reminded me how dangerous it is. That man at the club, he could have—” I shudder. “And Silvo, the violence he’s capable of... I should be horrified, but instead...”
“Instead, it makes you feel safe,” Sophia finishes, understanding in her eyes.
I nod. “Is that crazy?”
“In your world? Probably the sanest thing I’ve heard,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You need someone strong to protect you. And from what I’ve seen, Silvo would burn down the world for you.”
Isabella emerges from the fitting room, the emerald dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Sophia and I both let out appreciative whistles.
“Damn, Isabella, you look hot!” Sophia exclaims.
Isabella blushes. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. You’re going to turn heads in that dress.”
She nods decisively and heads back into the dressing room. Once out, she looks radiant as she hands her credit card to the cashier, a satisfied smile on her face.
As we exit the boutique, Sophia suggests grabbing a bite to eat. “I’m starving,” she declares. “Shopping takes a lot out of a girl.”
We make our way to a chic little bistro, the aroma of freshly baked bread and savory dishes wafting through the air.
Our waiter approaches, a handsome young man with a charming smile. He takes our orders, his gaze lingering on Isabella for a moment longer than necessary. I raise an eyebrow, wondering if there might be a spark of attraction there.
Just as we’re about to dig into our meals, a shadow falls over our table. I look up, my heart skipping a beat as I take in the sight of a tall, muscular man with piercing eyes and a dangerous aura.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls. “If it isn’t the infamous De Luca ladies.”
Isabella tenses beside me, her eyes narrowing. “Maximo Moretti,” she says, her tone icy. “To what do we owe the displeasure?”
I glance between them, immediately sensing the charged atmosphere. This must be one of the Morettis that Silvo has mentioned—their rivals.
Maximo smirks, his gaze drifting to me. “And you must be the new Mrs. De Luca,” he says, his eyes raking over my form in a degrading way. “I must say, Silvo has excellent taste.”
I bristle at his words. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I say coolly.
“My apologies,” Maximo says, his tone anything but apologetic. “Maximo Moretti, at your service.” He extends a hand, and I reluctantly shake it, feeling the strength in his grip and returning it with my own firm pressure.
Isabella clears her throat. “What do you want, Maximo?” she asks.
Maximo shrugs, a picture of nonchalance. “Just wanted to say hi,” he says, his eyes flickering back to me before settling on Isabella with unmistakable heat. “And to remind you all that the Morettis are always watching.”
Maximo’s words send a chill down my spine, and I feel Sophia tense beside me. Isabella, however, remains unruffled, her gaze locked with Maximo’s in a silent battle of wills.
“The Morettis may be watching,” Isabella says, “but the De Luca women aren’t easily intimidated. Don’t forget that, Maximo.”
“Oh, Isabella,” he purrs, leaning in closer, “I could never forget you. Or how beautiful you look when you’re angry.”
The way he says it, with obvious desire beneath the threat, makes it clear that he’s not just talking about family rivalry. There’s an undercurrent of something that crackles between them like a live wire.
Isabella’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down. “Watch yourself, Moretti. You’re playing with fire.”
Maximo’s eyes glitter with amusement. “Maybe I like the heat,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping purposefully to her cleavage.
I shift uncomfortably, feeling like an intruder in a private moment.
Sophia clears her throat pointedly, breaking the spell between them. “As much as I hate to interrupt this little… whatever this is,” she says, waving her hand between Isabella and Maximo, “we’re kind of in the middle of lunch. So, if you don’t mind...”
Maximo straightens, his expression smoothing back into one of cool indifference. “Of course,” he says, nodding at Sophia and me. “Ladies, enjoy your meal.”
He turns to leave, but not before throwing one last smoldering look at Isabella over his shoulder. “Until next time, bella.”
Isabella watches him go, her expression unreadable.
I can practically feel the tension thrumming through her body, the unresolved heat between her and Maximo still hanging heavy in the air.
Sophia lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Isabella,” she says, fanning herself dramatically. “I thought you two were going to start ripping each other’s clothes off right here in the middle of the restaurant.”
Isabella shoots her a withering look. “That man is insufferable,” she mutters, picking up her fork and stabbing at her salad with a little more force than necessary.
“Was that Maximo Moretti?” I ask, recalling his name from the folder Silvo showed me.
Isabella takes a deep breath, her eyes flickering with a mix of anger and something else I can’t quite place. “Yes,” she begins, “the son of our biggest rivals. They’ve been a thorn in our family’s side for generations.”
I lean in, my curiosity piqued. “I’ve heard the name before. Back in LA, the Bianchi family knew to tread carefully around anything Moretti connected.” I pause. “But I never knew the full history. What actually started it?”
“It goes back to our grandfathers,” she explains. “They were once close friends, but a disagreement over territory turned them into bitter enemies. Since then, the De Lucas and the Morettis have been locked in a constant power struggle.”
I absorb this information, filing it away. Silvo has mentioned the Morettis as enemies, but he’s never told me the full story. “A friendship destroyed over business? That seems... tragic.”
“Most wars start with something personal,” Isabella says quietly. “Business is just the excuse we tell ourselves.”
“It’s hard to believe you’re so ingrained in this world, yet it feels so distant at the same time,” Sophia murmurs, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, knowing all this and trying to navigate it.”
I can’t help but smile. “Trust me, Soph, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. The glamour wears off when you’re constantly aware of the danger.”
Isabella nods in agreement. “It’s a life we were born into,” she says, her voice tinged with weariness. “But it’s not one I would choose for myself, given the chance.”
Sophia leans back in her chair, her eyes moving between us. “So what’s it really like? Being married to Silvo?”
I feel my cheeks heat up at the mention of Silvo. “Intense,” I admit honestly. “Silvo is passionate, possessive, fiercely protective. But he’s also shown me a side of himself that I don’t think many people get to see.”
Isabella raises an eyebrow. “My brother, vulnerable? That’s a first.”
“He is with me,” I say softly, surprised by my own defensiveness. “Beneath all that intensity, he’s... he cares deeply. About family, about loyalty, about—” I stop myself before admitting too much.
“About you,” Sophia finishes with a knowing smile.
I don’t deny it.
Isabella reaches over and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “I can see that he’s different with you. Softer, somehow. It’s good for him.”
I glance back toward where Maximo disappeared, then at Isabella’s flushed face. “And what about you and Maximo? That didn’t look like a simple family rivalry.”
Isabella’s expression closes off immediately. “There’s nothing between us. He’s arrogant, insufferable, and everything I can’t stand in a man.”
“Everything you can’t stop looking at, you mean,” Sophia teases gently.
“Can we please change the subject?” Isabella pleads, her discomfort evident.
I catch Sophia’s eye, and we both smile, but mercifully let it drop—for now. Whatever’s brewing between Isabella and Maximo Moretti is clearly complicated, and pushing won’t help.
Sophia clears her throat, breaking the moment. “Okay, enough heavy stuff,” she declares, picking up her menu. “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m ready for some serious dessert action.”
Isabella and I exchange amused glances, grateful for the change in subject. “Bring on the chocolate,” I agree, feeling a sense of lightness wash over me.
As we peruse the dessert menu, laughing and joking, I realize how much I’ve grown to appreciate these women. Despite the challenges and complications of my new life, I know that with the support of my friends and new family, I can face anything that comes my way.
Even dangerous Moretti heirs who look at Isabella like they want to devour her—and maybe get devoured in return.