Chapter 35 – Luca
LUCA
The morning of my wedding, I wake alone.
Sienna was taken from our bed at some ungodly hour by Carmella, furious that we didn’t sleep in separate rooms, and an army of stylists who descended upon the house and took over every spare inch of space.
I haven't seen her since, banished to the guest wing to prepare separately, because apparently, it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony, and we’re already in enough trouble—Carmella’s words, not mine.
"You're sulking." Nico appears in the doorway, already dressed in his suit, looking annoyingly well-rested and dapper. "It's your wedding day. You're supposed to be happy."
Glaring at him, I redo my cufflinks and yank at my sleeve, my blood pressure rising when I can’t get them to sit right.
"I am happy," I growl, cursing and tipping my head back, praying for patience.
"You look like you're planning a murder," he observes, stepping inside, taking my arm, and shoving up my sleeve to take over.
"The day is young."
A photographer already came close when he tried telling me that it was obligatory to get a picture of the groom and his groomsmen lounging around, smiling and chatting, smoking cigars.
One look at my face told him that would not be happening, and if he didn’t get out of my sight immediately, he’d be thrown out.
Nico laughs and crosses to the window, looking out at the grounds where the ceremony will take place in a few hours.
White chairs are arranged in perfect rows in front of an arch that’s dripping with pale pink flowers.
The kind of romantic spectacle I never imagined for myself, but Sienna deserves nothing less.
"Security's in place," Nico says, shifting straight back to business. "Corso has men at every entrance. We've vetted the guest list three times, and we know who to watch out for. Sienna will be protected at all times."
Good. I trust Corso to make it happen. Even if I don’t see him all day, I know he’ll be there.
"And Mikhail?"
Nico grimaces, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Confirmed. He'll be here."
Enzo strolls in without knocking, a glass of champagne already in his hand, not caring about the early hour. "Are we discussing Mikhail? I have thoughts."
I inhale to prepare. Enzo always has thoughts, although not always constructive ones.
“A bit late but go on then.”
Nothing he can say will be new to me. I’ve gone through every possible situation and scenario, trying to ensure nothing can harm my bride. Corso and I have spent night after night running through all contingencies, trying to eliminate as much risk as we can of something going wrong.
"If you’re going to tell us there’s a chance another family occasion will be ruined by an assassination attempt, we already know," Nico drawls, pulling a hip flask out and taking a long pull.
Enzo drops onto the sofa, sprawling with casual disregard for his freshly pressed expensive suit. "It certainly keeps things interesting. What's a Calvano party without a little bloodshed?"
Biting back the urge to punch him in the face, knowing my bride would prefer him not to be bleeding in the pictures, I point a finger at him. "You're not helping. And if you’re not helping, you can get the fuck out."
Enzo holds his hands up. "I'm providing levity. It's a gift and badly needed around here."
I turn back to the mirror, adjusting my bow tie for the umpteenth time. "If either of you does anything to ruin this day for Sienna, I will personally ensure you regret it for the rest of your very short lives."
Enzo raises his glass in a mock toast. "Understood. We’re on our best behaviors. There will be no brawls and no seducing the bridesmaids." He pauses. "Actually, can we roll back on that last one? Rebecca's going to be here, and I feel like we have unfinished business."
Give me patience.
"Leave her alone, or Sienna will kill you herself."
"Fair enough." Enzo’s easy agreement is concerning in itself. It normally means he plans to do the exact opposite, but I’ve got bigger concerns today.
The hours pass in a blur of final preparations, last-minute adjustments, and the steady stream of guests arriving.
I station myself near the front, greeting the family heads as they file in with their wives and entourages.
Conti. Marchetti. Fiorenza. Bianchi. All of them are here to witness my union with Sienna, to see the new order taking shape.
My father arrives last, Orlando’s mother on his arm, both of them dressed to impress but wearing matching expressions of displeasure. He nods to me curtly as he passes, no words of congratulations, not even a smile, taking his seat in the front row.
Let him sulk. After today, his opinion matters to me even less than it did before.
The music shifts, signaling the start of the ceremony, and I take my place at the altar. Nico stands at my shoulder, and Enzo beside him, both of them unusually solemn for once. The guests fall silent, turning in their seats to watch the procession begin.
And then, I see her.
Sienna appears at the end of the aisle, her hand tucked into Corso's arm since she has no father to give her away.
I guess that’s one way of staying at her side.
She's wearing white silk and delicate lace, the gown hugging her curves before flowing to the ground in an elegant train. Her hair is swept up, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and her bright eyes find mine immediately, a huge smile on her pretty face that makes my chest ache.
She's beautiful. She's always been beautiful, but today, walking toward me with flowers in her hands, she takes my breath away.
Corso delivers her to me with a small nod before stepping back to take his place amongst the guards stationed discreetly close by. I take her hands in mine, feeling the tremble of her fingers, and give them a gentle squeeze to let her know everything is going to be okay.
"Hi," she whispers.
"Hi yourself." I steal a kiss because I can’t help myself. “You look beautiful.”
She beams at me, and the nerves inside me settles. She’s going to be mine. We won. We’ll get our life together, our family, and all the things we should have gotten the first time around.
The ceremony passes in a blur. The priest's words float around me, familiar phrases about love and honor that barely register, because all I can see is her. All I can think about is the fact that after today, she's mine, just as I always wanted.
When it comes time for the vows, I speak them without hesitation.
I promise to love her, to protect her, to stand beside her through whatever darkness the future might bring.
I speak the words I mulled over ten years ago and locked away, along with the ring I never thought would see the light of day.
She repeats the words back to me confidently, tears brightening her eyes, and as she does so, the scars my father inflicted upon me, the wounds he left behind, fade into insignificance.
This is right. This is where we were always meant to end up.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
The words snap me back to the present, and I kiss her fiercely, pulling her to me, before the priest even finishes speaking. I claim her mouth with a passion that makes the guests laugh and cheer, a rare show of real emotion from me before my colleagues in arms.
She melts against me, her fingers curling into my lapels, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.
“Mine,” I whisper against her hair as I hold her close, reluctant to end this moment and get pulled into the crowd once more, swept up in the madness and noise.
The reception is a whirlwind of champagne and congratulations.
We make the rounds together, accepting well-wishes from people whose names I barely remember, and posing for photographs that will document this day for posterity.
Through it all, I keep Sienna close, my hand on her back, her waist, her shoulder, wanting to touch her at all times.
It's during one of the later dances, when most of the older guests have departed and the younger crowd has loosened up with alcohol and celebration, that I feel her stiffening beside me.
"What is it?"
When she doesn't answer immediately, I track her gaze, studying the crowd where she was looking, but see nothing unusual.
"Sienna."
"That man." She hisses, clinging to me. "By the bar. Dark hair, standing with the group from the Fiorenza table."
I find him. Mid-thirties, slim, and handsome face. He’s nursing a drink and making conversation. He looks like any other guest until he lifts his chin, and his startling blue eyes catch the light.
"Is that him?" I remain calm, but scan the crowd, finding the other man I’m looking for. "Sienna, is he the shooter?"
She presses closer, her lips moving against my tuxedo jacket as we continue to glide across the floor. "Yes. Those eyes. I'd know them anywhere."
Ignacio.
My hand tightens on her waist, but I force myself to relax, knowing she’s scared and needs me to help calm her nerves. "Mikhail has been tracking him, awaiting your confirmation."
I nod toward the far corner of the room, where a tall figure stands near the side door. Mikhail is dressed in an immaculate suit, already stalking his target.
She turns to look at me, confusion and fear warring on her beautiful face. "You knew the shooter would be here?"
Kissing her cheek, I brush a strand of hair from her face, keeping the gesture casual for any observers. "He's not going to hurt anyone. Not today. But I needed to be sure, for you to see him up close, before..."
I don’t need to explain the rest. Sienna watches as Mikhail moves through the crowd, unhurried but purposeful, taking up a position close to Ignacio where he can observe him carefully. He doesn't look at us, doesn't acknowledge anyone, just stares at his beloved Kate’s attacker with pure hatred.
I can’t say I’ll be disappointed to see Ignacio go.
“Mikhail won’t do anything here to ruin our day,” I whisper. “He’s been warned. He’ll make sure he doesn’t get up to anything and tail him home.”