“No,” Luca breathed, setting his drink down untouched. The last thing he needed right now was liquor clouding his mind. “The wedding is still on. You can name the date, time, and place for all I care, and I’ll be there. I’ve signed the contract, and I always live up to my word. I just want to know that you’ll do the same.”
“You don’t need to worry about my family,” he spat, “we always keep our word.” Luca wanted to laugh at that, but heknew that would only have the old man’s anger flare. He needed to finish what he came to say and leave before he lost his own temper.
“If you’re not here to call off the wedding, then why are you here?” he asked.
“I want to make it very clear that once I marry your princess, our war is over,” he said. “Got it, old man?” Romano’s smile was mean, and Luca knew that he had hit a nerve. That worked for him. If he couldn’t have his revenge for his uncle’s death, he’d spend the rest of his life pissing off his new father-in-law.
“You can call me every name in the book, Luca, but I’m the one in control here. I know that upsets you, but it’s just the way we’re going to play things.”
He didn’t want to burst the old man’s bubble, but he’d learn soon enough who was in control, even if Luca had to teach him that lesson the hard way.
“I hear that your princess wants to keep her last name, and I need you to make sure she changes her mind,” he said.
“You can’t expect her to take your name, can you?” Romano asked.
“I certainly will expect it,” Luca spat. “As her husband, she will take my name, and there will be no discussion.”
“Or what?” her father spat.
“Or I will tear down your family, Romano,” Luca spat. “I’ve already made a small dent by taking out a few of your enforcers. Do you really want to take the chance that I can’t make good on my threat?” he asked. He felt as though he was holding his breath, waiting for Romano to answer him.
“Fine,” he snapped, “I’ll talk to Isabella when I see her. I’m sure that I can convince her to take your name—for the family’s sake.” Luca was glad that the old guy saw things his way because, honestly, he was ready for the war to end. But he had no problem following through with his threats, if needed.
“Then it’s settled,” Luca said. He looked over at the bookshelves that lined the wall to his right and noticed some pictures. They were of a dark-haired girl with light eyes, and he walked across the room to look at them more closely.
“That’s my Isabella,” Romano said. “She’s a beautiful woman now. That was taken when she was only a teenager.” The old man’s voice sounded sorrowful, and Luca almost felt bad for him—almost. He needed to remember that the old man had his uncle killed, and that was unforgivable. Romano was paying a steep price, marrying his only daughter to Luca, but that was his punishment for killing his uncle and starting this damn war. The old saying, “War was hell,” was correct, and he planned on making sure that his father-in-law learned that lesson the hard way.
He picked up a photo of the woman that Isabella had grown into and looked her over. She resembled the description of the woman asking about him at his club. “I’m going to take this photo with me,” he said, not really asking permission.
“What for?” Romano asked.
He wasn’t about to tell him that he wanted to give her photo to his men, so they would know if the nosey woman in his club was Isabella. “I’d like to have a photo of my future wife,” he said. The old guy shook his head and looked at him as though he was disgusted by his request.
He started for the door and didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Luca,” the old man called. “Please treat my Isabella with kindness. She’s not a part of our world. I’ve made sure that she was sheltered from the nasty side of this life.” Luca didn’t bother to turn around or answer the man. He simply nodded and walked out of his office, Damion flanking his side immediately.
He handed the photo, still in its frame, to Damion. “This is Isabella. Ask around and find out if she’s the woman who wasasking about me at my club. And if she shows up again, I want to know immediately.”
“Of course, boss,” Damion agreed, taking Isabella’s photo. It was time that he met his new bride, and if she was asking around his club about him, he wanted to know why. He’d have a few questions of his own for the princess, and then, he planned on sealing the deal and marrying her because he was a man of his word, after all.
Isabella
Isabella knew she shouldn’t have come back. The thought looped through her mind as she stood across the street from the club, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her purse like it could shield her from the danger she was walking straight into. As though it could keep her from walking straight into something she might not survive. But being safe didn’t give her answers, and answers were the only thing she cared about.
The neon sign above the entrance flickered, casting a red glow across the pavement—like blood smeared across concrete. Two men in dark suits stood at the door, their posture rigid, eyes scanning everything with quiet authority. She could tell that they weren’t bouncers. They were guards. There was a difference, and Isabella had found that out the hard way.
She drew in a slow breath, steadying the chaos in her chest, and then she stepped off the curb. Each step toward the club felt heavier than the last, like the weight of what she was doing was finally catching up to her. But she didn’t stop, and she didn’t hesitate—because hesitation was weakness, and weakness didn’t survive in places like this. Hesitation could get her killed.
One of the guards stepped forward as she approached, his gaze sweeping over her—not with interest, but calculation. Hewas trying to decide if she belonged there. She didn’t, but there was no way that she’d tell him that.
“Private club,” he said. “Members only.”
Isabella lifted her chin slightly, meeting his stare without flinching. “I’m not here for the club.”
His expression hardened. “Then you’re in the wrong place, sweetheart.”
“No,” she said calmly. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his face. “Look, sweetheart?—”
