Chapter Eighteen
Belle
I smoothed my hands over the deep green silk of my gown, the gold embroidery catching the light as I stepped through the doors of The Gray.
My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape, but I kept my chin up, shoulders back.
This wasn't the same club where I'd mixed drinks and dodged wandering hands.
Tonight, I was entering as Dario Luca's wife, and the weight of that title pressed on me.
The Gray had transformed for Christmas Eve, nearly unrecognizable from the sleek, modern club it usually was.
Pine garlands wove through the crystal chandeliers, their fresh scent mingling with expensive perfume and aged whiskey.
White lights reflected off every polished surface turning the whole place into something from a winter fairy tale.
The main floor glittered with subtle touches of silver and gold, elegant rather than gaudy.
I couldn't help but smile, remembering how I used to hurry through this space with trays of drinks, head down, trying to be invisible. Now people stepped aside as I passed, their gazes lingering on my gown, my jewelry, all Dario's gifts, all worth more than everything I'd owned before him combined.
I scanned the room out of habit, locating the security detail almost immediately.
After my abduction, Dario and Marcus had made sure to teach me to immediately spot my security in the crowd and to always know where they were.
Marcus stood near the main bar, his back to the wall, gaze constantly roaming across the crowd.
He caught my eye and gave an imperceptible nod, the closest thing to warmth I'd ever get from him.
Two more men I recognized from Dario's security team flanked the entrance to the VIP area, their dark suits and earpieces subtle but unmistakable.
Another positioned near the emergency exit, another by the stairs.
The Christmas celebration didn't mean a lapse in vigilance.
If anything, the higher profile event had doubled the security presence.
"Mrs. Luca," a silver-haired man approached, his smile practiced but his eyes calculating as they swept over me. "Carlo Venucci. A pleasure to finally meet you."
I extended my hand the way Alessandro had taught me, not too eager, not too hesitant. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Venucci."
His grin seemed oily somehow. This was the part of Dario’s life I hated.
I didn’t like playing games and everyone here insisted on them.
"Once Dario Luca claims something as his, we all respect that claim immediately. But should you decide you’d rather move on to someone higher up in the food chain, I’m always looking for… new blood."
My smile didn't falter, though something in me bristled at being referred to as a "something" rather than a "someone.
" To say nothing of the implication my relationship with Dario was anything but genuine. The callous attitude shouldn’t have surprised me, but I wanted everyone to know how much in love I was with Dario Luca.
I wanted them to know how much he was in love with me.
Six months ago, I might have stammered or blushed.
Tonight, I merely tilted my head. "How fortunate that what Dario claims, I gave him freely.
" I leaned in closer to the asshole. “And, in the spirit of Christmas, I promise to wait until after the holiday before I tell Dario that you implied I was a whore who could be bought by the highest bidder.”
Venucci's eyebrows lifted slightly, approval flashing in his eyes. "Beautiful and vicious. I think Dario chose well." He gave me a contemplative look. “He's been different since you came into his life. Less... severe. It suits him."
Before I could respond, we were joined by a couple.
The man in an impeccable tuxedo, the woman draped in diamonds that caught every glimmer of light.
Though my engagement ring was almost ostentatious in its size, I doubted it cost as much as the fortune this woman had clinging to her in the form of jewelry.
"Belle, darling!" The woman air-kissed near my cheeks. "That color is divine with your complexion."
I smiled, grateful for Alessandro's crash course in designer names. "Versache. Dario’s idea." Because, honestly, I was more of a thrift store kind of gal. I knew dick all about fashion.
I wasn’t going to say I knew dick all about fashion.
"Of course he did," her husband chuckled. "When Dario Luca wants something, he goes all out."
It was still surreal sometimes, this new life.
Three months ago, I'd been mixing drinks behind that very bar, counting tips and worrying about making rent.
Now I lived in a mansion filled with Christmas decorations I'd put up myself, wore dresses that cost more than a year's salary at my old jobs, and shared a bed with the most powerful man in the city.
The transition hadn't been seamless. Vincent Rossi's kidnapping attempt had made sure to put a huge-ass crease in the transition.
But each day at Villa Luca had strengthened something in me I hadn't known existed.
I felt his gaze before I saw him. A warmth spread across my skin, raising goosebumps despite the heat of the crowded room.
I turned, finding Dario immediately across the sea of bodies.
He stood near the raised VIP section, one hand in the pocket of his perfectly tailored tuxedo, the other holding a crystal tumbler of amber liquid.
His gaze locked on mine, dark and possessive, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
The look scorched through me, intimate despite the distance.
I excused myself from the conversation, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter as I made my way toward another group.
Matteo caught my eye as I passed, giving me a quick wink before returning to his vigilant scan of the crowd.
The youngest Luca had become something of an ally in the household, his irreverence a welcome break from the intensity of his brothers.
"...and then she transformed the entire place," I overheard as I approached a small gathering that included Gabriel and several associates I recognized. "Villa Luca looks like something from a Christmas movie. Even Vittorio was caught humming carols."
Gabriel's eyes lit up when he spotted me. "Belle! We were just talking about your Christmas miracle. These cynics don't believe Vittorio participated in decorating the tree."
I laughed, the sound natural and relaxed in a way I wouldn't have thought possible in this setting months ago. "He didn't just participate. He decorated like a boss." Yeah. When Dario or his brothers were around, I felt free to let the rebel inside me slip the leash from time to time.
The group around us murmured in surprise, and I found myself the center of a circle of curious questions about how I'd managed to bring Christmas back to the infamous Luca family.
My answers came easily, stories of Matteo stealing cookies and Alessandro's picky ornament placement drawing genuine laughter from people I'd once watched through the barrier of a bar counter.
As I spoke, I felt a sense of belonging that had nothing to do with the expensive dress or jewelry.
These people were listening to me, not just because I was Dario's, but because they found me interesting in my own right. The realization settled in my chest, warm and certain. It was a very small group, but one that seemed central to the Luca’s circle. Close friends and allies.
I glanced across the room again, finding Dario's eyes still on me.
He hadn't moved, but something in his expression had changed.
There was heat, a hunger that made my skin flush despite the distance between us.
I watched as he set down his glass and began making his way through the crowd toward me, his movements deliberate, predatory.
My pulse quickened as he approached, anticipation curling through me like smoke.
The Christmas Eve gala stretched before us, full of potential and promise.
Whatever happened next, I would meet it standing tall, no longer the girl who hid behind the bar, but the woman who had captured Dario Luca's heart.
Dario moved through the crowd like a shark through water, people instinctively shifting out of his path without breaking their conversations.
His focus never leaving me as he approached, and I felt the familiar flutter in my stomach, part nervousness, part desire, he always provoked.
When he reached me, he took my hand without a word, leading me away from Gabriel and the others toward an archway I hadn't noticed before.
Looking up, I saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the center, its white berries gleaming against dark leaves.
"You planned this," I whispered as he positioned us precisely beneath the holiday tradition.
His lips curved into that rare smile few people ever witnessed. "I plan everything, Belle." His voice dropped lower. "You look breathtaking tonight. Every man in this room wants you. Every woman wants to be you."
I shook my head slightly. "I doubt that."
"Don't," he said, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "I can read a room. I've built my life on it." His eyes darkened as they swept over me. "But what matters is that you're mine."
Before I could respond, his hand slid to the small of my back, pressing me firmly against him.
His other hand cupped my face as his mouth descended on mine.
This wasn't a polite, public kiss. This was possession, declaration, a claiming.
His lips moved over mine with deliberate intensity, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth when I gasped.
I forgot where we were, my hands clutching at his shoulders as I melted into him.