45 | You didn't like her?
The black satin dress clings to my body like a second skin, its fabric pooling at my feet with every step I take. It's elegant, refined, and undeniably alluring, exactly what Luciano's family expects of me.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror one last time, smoothing down the fabric, before stepping out of the bedroom.
Luciano is waiting for me in the hallway, his broad frame draped in a perfectly tailored dark suit. His dark hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place, and his sharp features are a mask of control.
But his eyes,those deep brown eyes,betray him. There's stillfrustration there, simmering beneath the surface, lingering from our last conversation.
His gaze drags over me, slow and calculated. For a brief moment, I think I see something else flicker behind his eyes, something darker, something possessive.
"You always look beautiful, Aurelia," he says, his voice smooth but laced with restrained emotion.
I say nothing, my throat tightening at the way he looks at me, the way his words feel like both a compliment and a challenge.
Luciano extends his hand toward me, his fingers steady and expectant.
For a split second, I consider ignoring it like I always do. But I don't. I can't. Tonight is about survival. It's about playing my part, about ensuring I don't give his family any reason to think I don't belong at his side.
So, I take his hand.
His grip is firm, warm, yet controlled. He doesn't pull me closer, doesn't tighten his hold, but there's an unspoken dominance in the way he leads me down the grand staircase.
As we descend, I can already hear the low murmur of voices from the dining hall. Luciano's extended family has gathered tonight, a room full of dangerous men with power woven into their blood.
Gabriele, the underboss of Chicago.
Nico, the consigliere of the family.
Other uncles and distant relatives, all of whom hold influence in the underworld.
The moment we step into the room, all conversation halts for a fraction of a second. Eyes turn to us, assessing, scrutinizing.
Luciano doesn't hesitate as he leads me to the head of the table, pulling out the chair beside him before taking his own seat at the head.
I sit down gracefully, keeping my expression neutral. I know what's expected of me tonight, to be poised, to be quiet, to play the role of the perfect wife.
The conversations resume, the clinking of glasses filling the air. I can feel Luciano's presence beside me, the subtle tension in his posture.
He hasn't looked at me since we sat down, but I can tell he's aware of me, just as I am painfully aware of him.
From across the table, one of the underbosses, Gabriele, leans forward slightly, his dark eyes gleaming with interest.
"Mrs. Costa..." he says smoothly, lifting his wine glass. "What an honor it is to have you in our family."
I offer him a polite smile, though my stomach twists with unease. "The pleasure is all mine," I reply.
It isn't.
I know what's coming next. I can feel it in the way Gabriele watches me, in the way some of the others glance at me with veiled curiosity.
They're waiting for it.
The comparison.
The mention of her.
Ciara.
But Luciano's nonna smiles at me. "I'm so happy you married into this family, Aurelia. You are exactly what we need. I had always wished for you to be part of our family."
The genuine warmth in her voice catches me off guard.
I swallow, nodding slightly. "Thank you, Gia—"
She cuts me off with a slight shake of her head. "Call me Nonna."
My breath hitches for a moment.
Nonna.
It's such a simple word, yet it holds weight. It's acceptance, a silent declaration that I belong. A small warmth flickers in my chest, easing some of the tension coiled within me. I give her a grateful smile.
But before I can fully absorb the moment, Gabriele speaks again, his voice smooth and laced with something unreadable.
"You never allowed Ciara to call you Nonna," he muses, tilting his head. "You didn't like her?"
The table grows silent.
I grip the edge of my napkin, nails pressing into the delicate fabric. Of course. Of course, Ciara would be brought up. She always is. Even in death, she lingers.
I hate it.
Nonna's expression remains unreadable as she takes a sip of her wine.
"Ciara and I had our differences," she says simply, but there's an edge to her voice, a finality that suggests the conversation should end there.
Though Gabriele doesn't stop. He turns his attention back to me, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "Is that why you're getting cozy with your bodyguard, Aurelia? Luciano is making you feel lonely?"
The words slam into me like a physical blow.
Before I can even think of a response, before I can even open my mouth to snap back at him, Luciano moves.
The sound of his hand slamming against the table echoes through the room, rattling the plates and glasses.
"Get out."His voice is firm, and it's laced with something dark, something violent.
Gabriele stiffens, his smirk faltering.
Luciano's eyes are locked onto him, sharp and merciless. "And don't ever disrespect my wife again."
A tense beat of silence stretches between them, heavy with unsaid threats.
Gabriele's jaw clenches. "Aurelia is just a replacement."
Luciano's eyes lock onto mine, dark and unreadable, before he leans in and whispers, "Cover your ears."
A shiver runs down my spine. There's no hesitation in his voice, no room for argument. Something in my gut twists,something is about to go very, very wrong.
I do as he says, pressing my hands over my ears just as he rises from his seat with a calm, almost chilling precision. His movements are effortless, fluid, as he reaches beneath his suit jacket and pulls out a gun.
Before anyone can react, before Gabriele even registers what's happening,Luciano pulls the trigger.
The gunshot explodes through the room, deafening even through my hands.
A sharp, agonized scream rips from Gabriele's throat as he tumbles from his chair, crashing onto the cold marble floor. Blood spills from his shoulder, staining his crisp white shirt a deep crimson as he clutches the wound, his face contorted in pain.
Luciano doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink.
He simply lowers his gun, his expression as unreadable as ever, as if shooting a man in the middle of a family dinner was the most natural thing in the world.
Luciano doesn't sit back down. Instead, his gaze sweeps over the rest of the table, his expression cold, commanding.
"I thought I made it clear," he says, voice steady but edged with warning. "That I don't allow anyone to disrespect Aurelia because of my past choices. If you want to disrespect someone, then do it to me. Not her."
His voice lowers, darkens. "But if anyone here dares to disrespect her again, I will rip your tongues out and feed it to your wives. Understood?"
A heavy silence follows. Then, one by one, the underbosses nod. Their wives do the same.
Luciano slowly lowers himself back into his seat. The tension still lingers, thick and suffocating, but no one dares to speak ever again.