Chapter 37 – Luca
LUCA
The gunshot echoes through the marquee ballroom.
My father's body crumples to the floor, his smug expression frozen in surprise, the neat hole in the middle of his forehead leaking red onto the white dancefloor. The handkerchief he was using to wipe away the blood from Sienna's blade work flutters down beside him.
There’s nothing but silence.
I feel nothing. No grief and certainly no regret, just a vast, hollow emptiness and the nagging feeling I should have done this a long time ago. In my hand, the sonogram, wrinkled now from how tightly I've been gripping it, is the only thing I care about.
That, and the woman currently staring at me, wide-eyed, with no idea what I’m about to do next.
From the corner of my eye, I see Fausto move, the old bulldog going for his gun, his loyalty to my father overriding every instinct of self-preservation.
Corso reaches for him, but Enzo is faster, firing off two shots in quick succession, center mass, and Fausto drops beside his master, his weapon clattering across the floor.
"Always wanted to do that." My brother steps over the body showing no remorse. "For what he did to you. Both of you."
Enraged, Ignacio roars, gun drawn, but before he can point it at Enzo, Mikhail steps forward, his hand slashing across Ignacio’s throat from behind, silver glinting under the lights.
A river of blood cascades down his front as he falls to his knees, hands going to his open neck, before he too keels over.
“Jesus Christ,” Nico mutters as he stands over the carnage. So much for not making a scene at the wedding.
For a moment, nobody dares move. The ballroom is frozen, a tableau of shock and horror. The small number of remaining guests are pressed against canvas walls, hands over mouths, stunned at what they’ve just seen. One woman retches into her purse.
Then the chaos starts.
Shouting. Weapons being drawn. The thunder of feet as guests who want nothing to do with this carnage head for the exits.
“Shit,” Enzo mutters.
I look toward Corso and nod. He knows what to do, turning and running toward the entrance, fast for a man of his build, his finger pressed to the radio at his ear. He’ll ensure nobody leaves the property until they’ve been reminded what will happen if word of this gets out.
“Oh my god…” Rebecca’s shaking her head, backing away from the sight of three dead bodies piled on the dancefloor. She looks up, spots us watching her, and runs.
“Go.”
Enzo doesn’t need to be told twice, catching up with her before she can leave the tent. Despite her furious protests and indignant shouts, he manages to grab her arm, then swings her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and takes her elsewhere.
Nico, taller than almost everyone, moves through the crowd, calming down the panic, and assuring everyone there’s nothing to worry about. People listen to him, following his instructions like he’s directing queues at the airport and not leading our guests away from a crime scene.
While all of this happens in the background, the only thing I see is Sienna.
She's standing frozen in the middle of the dance floor, her white dress splattered with blood, and the red-stained knife still dangling from her fingertips. She's staring at my father's body like she can't quite believe what’s just happened.
I cross to her in three strides and pull her into my arms.
She breaks, quiet sobs racking her small frame as years of fear find their release.
I hold her to me, one hand cradling the back of her head, and the other, still clutching the sonogram, pressing it between us. The knife clatters to the floor but neither of us moves to pick it up.
Inside, my heart feels like it’s been cleaved open.
My child. A future Calvano heir. Us. Gone, all because of that fucking monster’s need to control everything.
My fists shake, but with Sienna clinging to me, I fight back my own anger and focus on her and what she needs right now.
"It's over," I murmur into her hair. "He's gone. He can never hurt you again."
She clings to me, her fingers fisting in my jacket, as her whole body shakes.
Behind me, the chaos is starting to subside.
The guests have fled or been escorted out.
Now, only the family heads remain, standing in a loose semicircle around the carnage.
Conti. Marchetti. Fiorenza. Bianchi. Their faces are chillingly calm, unaffected by the unexpected turn the day has taken.
They came here tonight to attend a wedding. Instead, they got a coup.
I turn to face them, keeping Sienna tucked against my side.
"I am now the head of the Calvano family.
" My commanding voice carries through the sudden silence.
"My actions were justified and necessary. Alfonso Calvano ordered the hit on Kate O'Sullivan, using Fausto’s son, Ignacio, as the hitman. He was hoping we would blame the Russians, and my appointment would be derailed, along with the reconciliation with the Irish. With the Russians now our enemies, he could go after the prostitution business I refused to take on.”
Mikhail nods along, wiping his knife on his pants before resheathing it inside his jacket.
“The Russians and Irish are satisfied that the matter is over, and that I was not privy to my father’s scheming.” I meet each of their eyes in turn. "If anyone has a problem with what happened here tonight, now is the time to speak."
Nobody does, which thankfully, allows me to keep my personal issues with my father private, for Sienna’s sake.
Conti is the first to move. He steps forward and extends his hand.
"Congratulations," he says quietly. "On your wedding. And on claiming your rightful position as the head of the Calvano’s. I trust you’ll deal with your cousin in your own time."
I nod. I’m going to deal with Orlando personally.
One by one, the others follow, supporting the bloody transfer of power, not because of love or loyalty, but pragmatism.
They saw my father's grip slipping, saw Mikhail publicly challenge him about Orlando's brazen ambition, and knew that any objection to what I’ve done would be considered an insult by the Irish.
They're simply backing the winning side.
I'll take it.
When it's done, I turn, ready to whisk Sienna away, but she shakes her head, standing by my side, a mask of composure firmly in place as she accepts nods of respect and congratulations from the other heads.
Corso materializes at my side, his face grim but composed. “The guests are contained. I’ve confirmed there are no recording devices. Everyone is aware that the details of this private family disagreement are not to be discussed or shared.”
I nod. The people here, with the exception of Rebecca, are from Italian families; they understand how things work and the importance of keeping their mouths shut.
Nico reappears and stands, hands on hips, looking around the tipped over chairs, the abandoned drinks, shoes and forgotten clothing and purses strewn all over the floor.
“No more family events.”
Only Nico would make a joke at a time like this. I turn to tell him off, just in time to see him dip down and bow his head to Sienna.
“I’m sorry for what our father put you through, Sienna. Know that the rest of the Calvano family has your back.” He straightens and grips my shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Take your leave, Luca. Your bride deserves a honeymoon, and you need plausible deniability. We’ll handle the cleanup.”
“Thank you.”
Nico gives me a salute, the corner of his lip turning up in an almost smile.
“Nico?”
He stops and turns back to me, a question in his eye.
“Find Orlando and keep him somewhere safe for me until I get back.”
Now his smile turns to a broad, shit-eating grin. “With fucking pleasure.”
Sienna blinks, snapping out of her daze, and scans the tent, wondering where her friend has gone. “Rebecca…”
“Enzo has her. I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Corso offers, and I know that of everyone here, Sienna believes he’ll do exactly that.
“Come on.” Taking Sienna by the hand, I lead her away from the mess and out to where Roman is waiting to bring us to a small airstrip close by.
“But I can’t just leave her…”
Roman opens the car door, and Vito hops out, like he’s the VIP Roman’s been chauffeuring around. Instead of hissing at me like he normally does, the ginger prick winds his way between my ankles, rubbing himself against my leg.
“Rebecca’s going to stay here and… catsit… while we’re away,” I state, ignoring Roman’s raised eyebrow, pretending this was always the plan. “Carmella will spoil the two of them. She can rest and recover, lounge by the pool, and get a massage. You’ll see her when we get back.”
Sienna stares back at the mess we’re leaving behind. “It seems wrong to just go.”
Leaning down, I cup her face and press a kiss to her forehead.
“We have to. Any deviation from the plan will attract attention. It has to be business as usual.” Taking in her pale skin and still slightly shell-shocked expression, I pull her in for a long hug.
“My wife deserves a rest, and I would like a week without any drama.”
A guard comes out of the house with two suitcases and loads them into the trunk of the car. When I slam it shut, Sienna slips into the back seat, already fishing in her bag for the comfortable travel outfit she planned to change into on the plane.
"Let me help you," I say softly, kneeling before her to remove her shoes, running my hand over her slim calf, as I slide them off, one by one, then move around to open the tiny buttons at her back.
She doesn't speak and doesn't resist, just lets me mind her.
The drive is quiet. Once changed, Sienna curls against me in the back seat, her face buried in my neck, our fingers tangled together.
“Are you mad at me for not telling you sooner?” she whispers, and I shake my head.
“How could I be? You are so strong, my love, but I’m sorry you had to be.
” I hold her with one arm and smooth out the crumpled sonogram with my other hand, staring at the grainy image, and the tiny blur that was supposed to be our child.
“Now, though, you lean on me. And we’ll be stronger together. ”
While I was recovering, Sienna was facing her own battle, one I knew nothing of and was infinitely worse than the simple physical pain I endured.
“Are you sad?” Sienna asks. “I mean, he wasn’t a good man, but he was your father.”
“Sad? No, that’s definitely not what I am.”
The rage that rises in me is so vast that I can barely contain it. I want to bring him back just so I kill him again, and watch the light leave his eyes, only slowly this time. But the woman in my arms needs me more than I need to vent my fury.
And soon, I’ll get the chance to vent my anger on Orlando instead.
The airfield is quiet when we arrive, and I carry Sienna up the stairs to the family jet, setting her gently on the edge of one white leather seat.
“The one thing I am…” I cup Sienna’s face and kiss her lips gently, “is excited to be your husband and begin our new life together.”
She smiles, but I can see the questions lurking behind her exhaustion, and the things she's afraid to ask.
"You can say it." I settle into the seat beside her, pulling her legs across my lap before giving the co-pilot a nod when he pokes his head into the cabin, checking if we’re ready to go. "Whatever's going through your head, just say it."
Sienna is quiet for a long moment, her fingers twisting together in her lap. When she finally speaks, it’s so soft I have to lean in to hear it. "I saw you shoot someone."
I sit forward, pulling her hands into mine, staring down at them instead of at her to give her space to get her words out. "You did."
Finding the slim gold band that sits snugly behind her engagement ring, I spin it around and around, loving the sight of it there. What it means.
"Without hesitating. I mean, you barely blinked."
It hardly comes as a shock to her that this isn’t my first time ending a man’s life, but seeing it up close and personal is a different matter, I guess.
"Yes.” I run my hand over her legs, her presence, and the knowledge that my father can’t fuck with her or me anymore gives me a sense of calm I haven’t had in a decade. “Does that change how you see me?"
She looks up at me, searching mine for something I hope she finds.
"I really thought I'd feel different," she admits. "Watching someone die like that." She trails off, shaking her head. "But no, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. All I felt was relief. And safe, at last. Is that terrible?"
A knot loosens in my gut. I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been holding myself, waiting for her to recoil, to look at me differently, or to realize she'd bound herself to a killer.
"No." I lift her hand to my lips. "It's human."
The flight attendant appears with champagne and a tray of food that Sienna picks at without much enthusiasm, clueless about the devastation we’ve just left behind.
I don't push and give her the time to think.
She needs time to process, and I'm content to sit beside my bride, her legs warm across my lap, watching the clouds drift past the window.
As the landscape outside changes, she shifts closer, tucking herself against my side.
"Where are we going?" she asks, stifling a yawn. "You never actually told me."
"That would defeat the purpose of a surprise."
"Luca,” she moans.
"A private island." I press a kiss to her pillowy lips. "Just us for seven days, maybe longer, if I can swing it. Sun, sea, and sand."
Corso knows what I expect to happen while I’m gone, and my brother’s, well, they’ll keep everything else running smoothly.
"That sounds..." She sighs, her body growing heavy against mine. "Perfect."
"Get some rest." I adjust her so she's lying with her head in my lap, pulling a cashmere blanket over her. "I'll wake you when we land."
She's asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out, and the tension finally drains from her body. I stroke her hair, thinking about everything that's waiting for us back home, but for now, there's only this.
My wife, officially mine at last, is asleep in my lap. And whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
I pull the sonogram from my pocket and stare at it again. The family we almost had. And soon, hopefully, like the one we will have, and that my father can never touch.