But today, that all changed. Today was his wedding day, and even though he knew that weddings were negotiations dressed up as tradition, power wrapped in vows, and control sealed with witnesses, he was still going through with the wedding. He didn’t need to have a piece of paper telling him that Isabella was his—he already knew that. But the rest of the world needed to see that they were legally married—that she belonged to him, and that no one else would ever be able to touch her again. A piece of paper would give him that peace of mind. He’d finally stake his claim, telling everyone that Isabella was his, and then, he’d finally carry her to his room and officially make sure that she understood that too.
Luca stood at the front of the room, hands clasped loosely in front of him, gaze steady on the doors as men filled the spacebehind him—his men, allies, and even enemies—all pretending to be neither. They were all watching and all waiting to make sure that he kept his word and married Isabella. That worked for him because this wasn’t just a ceremony; it was his way of sending a message to the families.
The room itself was deliberate—private, heavily guarded, and stripped of anything unnecessary. There was no excess and no softness. Just clean lines, dark wood, and enough space to hold the weight of what this meant. Because everyone here understood it—this marriage wasn’t about love. It was about survival, about territory, and about drawing a line so deep in the ground that crossing it meant war. Luca Camorra had just made that line a woman.
His jaw tightened slightly as he heard Dante step up beside him. “She’s ready,” he whispered.
Luca didn’t look at him. “Good,” he breathed.
“You sure about this?” Dante asked quietly.
That almost made Luca smile—almost. “I don’t do things I’m not sure about.”
Dante huffed out his breath. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
The doors opened, and everything in the room shifted. Luca’s gaze lifted as his eyes locked with Isabella’s. She held his gaze as she stepped inside the room like she belonged there. There was no hesitation on her part, and she showed no weakness. She was controlled, composed, and dangerous in a way most of the men in this room wouldn’t understand until it was too late. That was exactly what she needed to be.
Her dress was simple—nothing soft or delicate about it. It had clean lines with no excess frills. It didn’t make her look like a bride. It made her look like a statement, and God, she was beautiful. She looked like something no one in this room should even think about touching. No one in the room would everquestion his claim to her, and Luca felt something tighten in his chest. But he ignored it and filed it away for later.
She walked toward him without faltering, her gaze lifting to meet his again when she was halfway down the aisle. He saw no fear or hesitation in her eyes—just the same steady fire he’d seen from the beginning. It hadn’t burned out, even with everything that she had been through.
The room went quiet as she reached him. No one spoke. No one moved because this was the moment that she was going to become his. “There’s still time to walk away,” she said quietly.
Luca’s mouth curved faintly. “No, there’s not.”
Her lips pressed together. “Good,” she said. “That was a test, and you passed.”
Luca’s gaze held hers. “Ready?” he asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” The officiant stepped forward. Luca had chosen him because he had always been loyal to his family. He wasn’t religious or sentimental, but he wanted to make sure that everything was official enough to make it binding. That was all that mattered.
He started speaking, and every one of his words sounded like they were entering into a legal contract. They were direct and meaningless to anyone who didn’t understand what was really happening here. Luca barely listened, but he didn’t need to. The only part that mattered was her.
He watched her as the vows were spoken, measured her breathing, and the tension in her shoulders. He noticed the way her hands stayed steady at her sides. She wasn’t breaking down or second-guessing her choice to be with him. Even if she’d never say that she wanted to be with him, it still mattered—more than it should have.
“And do you take—” the officiant asked Luca.
“Yes,” he breathed, cutting him off before he could finish the question. The room shifted again. It was subtle, but he could feel it. They had all heard his answer.
Luca’s gaze darkened slightly when the officiant turned to Isabella, asking her the same question. She didn’t wait for him to finish asking the question either. “Yes,” she said. There was no hesitation, and the rest of the ceremony seemed to move at lightning speed. There were signatures of witnesses—all formalities. None of it mattered, not really. Because the second it was done, everything seemed to change around them. Now it was real. Isabella Romano wasn’t a Romano anymore—she was his.
Luca reached for her without thinking, his hand closing around hers—firm and possessive. He made no apologies as he pulled her against his body. Her breath caught, just for a second, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers tightened slightly in his, and that hit harder than anything else.
The officiant said something, but again, it didn’t matter. The room started to move again—low voices, shifting bodies, men recalculating what this meant for them now. Luca didn’t look at any of them, because his focus stayed exactly where it belonged—on her.
“You good?” he asked quietly. Her eyes met his, steady and controlled.
“Yeah,” she said. “Are you?”
Luca’s mouth curved slightly. “Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie—not entirely. He was exactly where he needed to be. And this was exactly what needed to happen. Even if something about it felt different now. He tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her closer. Things felt more permanent and a whole lot more dangerous than anything that had come before it.
Luca leaned in just enough that only she could hear him. “You’re officially mine now.” The words were low, rough, andpossessive, but he didn’t care. He was making a promise, and maybe even warning her about what was about to happen.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t argue, and she didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked up at him and said, just as quietly, “I know.”
That was the moment Luca realized that this wasn’t just a move to end a war anymore. This wasn’t just strategy or survival. This was something else—something deeper. It was something that didn’t follow rules and didn’t care about control. And for the first time in a long time, that made him dangerous in a way he hadn’t planned for. Because Luca Camorra had just bound himself to something he couldn’t fully control, and that was the one thing in his world that had the power to break him.
The second the door shut behind them, the noise from the rest of the house disappeared. They were finally alone with no witnesses, no expectations, and no more waiting. Two fucking weeks. Two weeks of keeping his hands off her. Two weeks of kissing her just enough to take the edge off—but never enough to finish it. Two weeks of watching her look at him like she wanted the same damn thing, and still having to walk away, because he’d made a promise. And Luca Camorra didn’t break his word.
