Chapter 18 – Luca
LUCA
Icheck my watch for the third time in as many minutes. We’re going to be late.
Nico leans against the doorframe of my study, arms folded, watching me busy myself with paperwork with barely concealed amusement. "She'll be down when she's ready. Women take time with these things."
“And how would you know?” I shoot him a look that would send most men running. He simply grins as I stand and check my cufflinks before pouring myself a large drink and handing Nico another.
"I heard the meeting with the O’Sullivan’s went as well as could be expected," he says, wisely changing the subject.
Giving him a slow nod, I focus on the burn of the amber liquid as it slides down my throat, preparing me for the evening ahead.
I fully expect my appearance with Sienna at my side to bring some heat.
"Maeve wants blood, and Finn wants answers. I have neither. But they've agreed to give me time and some latitude to flush out the hitman. For now."
I stare out the window at the circular driveway where two black SUVs wait, engines idling.
Tony walks around them with a mirror on a long pole, checking the underside and behind the wheels for trackers and explosives. Given recent events, I appreciate his thoroughness while Sienna is otherwise occupied.
"Any luck with the pictures?" Nico swirls the whiskey around in his glass, not as big a fan as me. Finally, he knocks it back and sets the glass down with a soft thud, hissing at the sharp burn.
I blink slowly, despairing that he would treat my Macallan like that, and shake my head. "She went through them all. Twice. It wasn’t one of the Russians. Or the Irish. And this isn’t the kind of job they’d have given to an outsider."
Which confirms what we both already suspected: that it’s someone from our own community, and quite possibly, someone we’ll be breaking bread with tonight.
Nico pushes off the doorframe and paces. "So, we're back to square one."
I sigh. “Not quite."
Nico stops, hating not being in the loop on every aspect of the business, but before he can ask what I mean, movement at the top of the stairs catches my eye.
When I walk out into the hallway, watching Sienna pause at the mirror to fix her glossy chestnut hair, everything else falls away.
She descends slowly, one hand trailing along the bannister, and I can't look away.
The dress she chose from the options Carmella brought is midnight blue and floor-length, with a slit up one thigh that makes my mouth go dry.
It hugs every curve I had in my hands this morning.
Her hair is swept to one side, tumbling over her shoulder in soft waves.
Diamond earrings catch the light, and the delicate gold chain around her neck draws my eye to her collarbone, to the lightly tanned skin I was kissing just hours ago.
She looks like she belongs in this world, like she was made for it.
Like she was made for me.
"You are fucking insane." Nico's doubting voice cuts through my daze, but I couldn’t give a shit. Let him think that. Let everyone think that. The sooner they realize that this Luca Calvano does what he wants, the better.
Sienna reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops, an uncertainty there that she's trying to hide behind a carefully composed mask. "Will I do?"
"You'll more than do. You’re stunning." I close the distance between us in three strides, taking her hand and lifting it to my lips.
Her skin is soft and warm, and her eyes blaze when my mouth brushes her knuckles.
Behind me, Nico clears his throat, then bows his head to Sienna. “You look beautiful.” He says cautiously. "Can I borrow my brother for a moment?"
Sienna nods, glancing between us. "I'll just... wait by the door."
As she walks away, hips swaying, that dress makes it difficult to focus on anything else. Tony meets her, a broad smile on his face as he escorts her to our vehicle.
When I finally turn back to Nico, he’s shaking his head.
"Alfonso’s going to lose his shit when he sees her, Luca."
Which is why I’m taking a kind of perverse pleasure in springing this on him. He’s seen the news reports, but he’s too arrogant to think I’d dare go there again. Right now, he believes the story I’ve fed him, that she’s just helping us with our search.
And she was, at first, but things have changed.
I straighten the lapels of my jacket, checking to make sure my concealed weapon isn’t too obvious. "Who I choose as my wife is no longer his concern."
Nico’s eyes nearly bug out of his head when I drop that bombshell, his olive complexion turning ghostly white. “Oh fuck.”
“Indeed.” I smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “So, I need you to be my eyes and ears tonight, Nico. I’m about to cause a stir. Let’s see who’s the most upset about it.”
Eager to get moving, I stride toward the door, glaring at Sienna’s stuck-up fucking cat as he sits in the hallway, tail flicking from side to side. I swear, he’s looking me up and down, judging me, and apparently, finding me wanting as he gets up and walks away.
“That fucking cat,” I mutter.
"Has she actually agreed to marry you?" Nico asks.
I don't answer immediately, which is answer enough.
“She will.” I meant to sound confident, but it comes out defensive.
"Luca..."
"I want the helm," I bark, not shying away from voicing it out loud, letting him see the steel beneath the calm.
"And I'm going to get it, with or without his blessing.
With the support of the other families, with a new wife by my side, and soon, with the shooter buried in the fucking ground, nobody, not even Alfonso Calvano will be able to stop me. "
Nico sighs, knowing that it’s true. Even without my father’s blessing, most of the families want change. If he goes back on his assurances he’ll stand down willingly this year, they’ll force his hand anyway.
"Don't say I didn't warn you." He shrugs his shoulders, rolling them back to loosen them up. “If this gets us all killed, I’m blaming you.”
"Noted.”
Outside, I yank open the back door, nod at Tony over the roof of the car, and slide in, getting my game face on ahead of the party that might be the deciding factor whether this plan comes together or falls apart.
It’s a test for both of us.
The partition is up, giving us privacy. Sienna sits beside me, close enough that I can smell her perfume, the one I always loved, her hands folded gracefully in her lap. My gaze lands on her bare ring finger, something I plan to remedy very soon.
"Most of the people at this party will attend the wedding," I say, forcing myself to focus. "So think of it as a dry run."
She turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. "The wedding that may or may not be happening?"
"Oh, the wedding that is definitely happening." My reply is lighthearted but firm. "Three hundred guests. St. Michael's Cathedral for the ceremony, then the reception at the Langham."
Her eyes widen. "Three hundred people?"
"Give or take. Most of them are business associates, other Italian families, with whom we work together in various guises. My father is the head of all the families, leader of the commission, Capo dei Capi."
Twisting to face her, I give her the Idiot’s Guide to the Mafia, Italian version, in two minutes flat.
“I’m due to take over, but he’s been stalling because he’s a stubborn old prick who loves power too much to step back.
” He only agreed, making it sound like it was his idea all along, at the last meeting when he was put under pressure by the other families.
“I have no doubt he’ll backtrack now that Kate is gone. ”
The man has no honor, and his word is meaningless.
She's quiet for a moment, processing. “But he can’t if you marry me, and nobody else has a problem with it?”
“Exactly.” I take her hand in mine. “By bringing you here, I can introduce you to them before he can do anything to stop me.”
Sienna pales at that, knowing my father will almost certainly try. She pulls her hand back, turning to stare outside. “So if they don’t like me, the deal is off? You’ll have no use for me.”
I study her profile, her reflection ghosted in the glass. "They’ll like you," I state, with absolute certainty.
"How can you know that?"
"Because nobody would be stupid enough to say otherwise."
She sighs and laughs, thinking that I’m joking. "The big wedding… is that absolutely necessary? It’s not really my thing."
“Sienna, whatever is normal in this world is now your thing.” Seeing her disappointment, my irritation grows. Most women would love a big, fairytale wedding with no expense spared. "It's not even a real wedding anyway," I remind her, making the frown lines between her eyebrows deepen.
I shift in my seat, annoyed that her reaction matters so much to me.
"You used to talk about getting married in a barn. A bunch of wealthy old men won’t go for that," I snap, apparently deciding to worsen the mood between us by shoving my foot even further into my mouth. Knowing she’s probably unimpressed by my comment, I turn away to do my own glaring out the window.
"What did you say?" she whispers, resting on my knee as she leans forward. She’s gaping at me when I turn, surprised by her touch.
"A converted barn. Somewhere in the countryside," I scoff, waving my hand in the air as my confusion grows. Why does this matter? I’ve already said it’s not going to happen.
"You wanted white flowers everywhere, lots of candles, and just close friends and family. But that’s not an option, Sienna.
” I scoff. “They’d think we’re going broke. "
Her lips part, stunned. "You remember all that? After all this time?"
Oh.
I meet her gaze, needing to make sure she knows my next words are the truth. "I remember everything. I just can’t give it to you."
For a moment, neither of us moves, knowing I’m talking about more than her dream wedding day.
The city continues to slide past the windows, but inside the car, time seems to stop until Tony taps the glass to indicate we’re almost there. The venue, a sprawling mansion in the middle of the poshest part of Chicago, is lit up like a Christmas tree. Valets are already moving toward us.
“Listen to me, Sienna. These are not nice people. These are dangerous people.” I squeeze her knee once before pulling my hand away. "I need you to follow my lead. Stay close to Tony and Nico if I’m pulled away."
She nods, squaring her shoulders, and I watch the transformation happen in real time, her nerves disappearing behind a mask of composure.
I step out of the car first, then turn to offer her my hand. She takes it, her fingers warm in mine, and she rises elegantly from the back seat.
The valet's eyes linger a beat too long on the slit in her dress, and I fight back the urge to break his jaw.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” Tony warns him, and the valet rears back, stuttering out his apologies as Tony drops the keys into his palm. He’s lucky that look will only cost him his tip and not his life.
I pull Sienna close, my hand settling possessively on her waist. "Ready?" I murmur against her ear, loving how she melts into me as my lips brush her sensitive skin.
"No." But she’s doing it anyway.
I give her waist a reassuring squeeze then lead her to the entrance with Tony watching our backs.
The doors open before us, and it’s my turn to change, every trace of the softness I’ve let Sienna see disappearing in an instant.
The ballroom is already crowded when we enter, a sea of designer gowns and tailored suits, crystal chandeliers hanging from high vaulted ceilings. Heads turn as we enter. Conversations falter, and a hushed silence falls, every set of eyes tracking our progress across the marble floor.
They weren’t expecting me to come.
A waiter approaches with a tray of champagne. "Mr. Calvano. I know what you’d like, but may I take the lady's drink order? Champagne perhaps?"
She nods, but before he can offer the tray to Sienna, I take one and hand it to her myself. She notices but doesn’t get the chance to comment because we're immediately interrupted by a group of men, all eager to pay their respects.
I keep Sienna tucked against my side as I shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and field questions about the ‘incident’ at the restaurant and Kate with careful deflection.
"Terrible business," one of them says, a silver-haired man whose name I can't remember. He leers at Sienna, admiring her cleavage with thinly veiled envy as he commiserates my fiancé’s passing. "Such a tragedy. And so soon before the wedding."
I ignore his thinly veiled attempt to get more information from me.
"Yes," I agree flatly. "Terrible."
His eyes travel once more to Sienna, then back to me with a sleazy smile, the alcohol I can smell on his breath making him brave. "Though I see you haven't wasted any time moving on."
Sienna stiffens beside me, and I feel her embarrassment, the way her shoulders curl inward, how her elegant grip tightens on the stem of her champagne glass.
“I guess when you’re the future don, there’s always a beautiful woman ready to step up from the subs bench.” The man beside him laughs nervously and takes a half step back, wisely distancing himself from his friend.
A need to inflict violence on this man grips me.
"Allow me to introduce Sienna Fox." I keep my voice pleasant, my body language relaxed in spite of the myriad of inventive ways I could torture him scrolling through my mind.
The man's eyebrows rise. An introduction carries meaning in these circles. If she were just a date, there would be no need for anyone to know her name.
"We were engaged before, years ago." I let my hand slide from the back of Sienna’s neck, down the expanse of exposed skin to her waist, before pulling her closer. "But circumstances have changed, obviously, and I'm not foolish enough to let a woman like this slip away for a second time."
Sienna glances up at me, a warning in her eyes, a reminder that she hasn't actually agreed to marry me.
I ignore it. If she’s going to survive in my world, she needs to realize a play when she sees it.
The man coughs, uncertain whether I'm serious or fucking with him, but he knows I’m displeased either way. "Well. She's certainly lovely."
"She is," I agree, but there's no warmth to it.
The silence that follows is awkward—not for me, I’m enjoying myself—but for everyone else.
The man's face goes pale, his companions suddenly finding their drinks very interesting.
Sienna tugs at my arm, murmuring that she needs to powder her nose, and I let her pull me away, sparing the men more discomfort.
As we pass, I move close to the man, whispering so only he can hear, "Call my future wife a substitute, utter one negative word or even fucking look in her direction again, and I'll gut you like a fish. Capiche?"
He nods, frozen to the spot.
"Good.” I make eye contact with each man in the group, reveling at the fear I see reflected back at me. “Enjoy your evening."
Turning, I guide Sienna away, confident they’ll have spread the word about who Sienna is to me by the time the entrees are served.