Chapter 55: VOWS AND VENDETTAS
The DeLuca estate had been turned upside down.Florists marched through the halls like soldiers, carrying armfuls of roses and lilies. Seamstresses darted in and out of rooms with pins clutched between their lips. Security teams drilled new protocols around the property while the kitchen staff argued over hors d’oeuvres in rapid Italian. It was beautiful chaos and Aria was at the center of it.
"Do we really need twenty-seven chandeliers?" she asked, staring at the ballroom ceiling where workers were hoisting the glittering fixtures into place.
"Yes," Luca replied from behind her without hesitation.
She turned to glare at him. "Twenty-seven?"
He shrugged, all smug composure in his tailored black shirt. "It’s symbolic."
"Of what? Bankruptcy?"
"Power, amore. Splendor. Wealth." He stepped closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Besides, you deserve to shine under every light in Italy."
She tried and failed to hide the smile tugging at her lips. "You’re ridiculous."
"And yet, you love me," he murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth.
"Unfortunately," she teased, but her cheeks betrayed her warmth.
Luca chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they watched the organized madness unfold. "It’s strange," he murmured. "I’ve organized entire wars with less chaos than this wedding."
"That’s comforting," she deadpanned. "Do you ever stop thinking like a mafia boss?"
"Only when I look at you," he whispered. "Then I’m just a man about to marry the woman who ruined him."
Her heart fluttered. "You keep saying that, that I ruined you."
"You did," he said simply, spinning her gently to face him. "I was unshakable. Unreachable. Then you showed up with your fire and your sarcasm and your maddening stubbornness... and suddenly, everything I thought I needed became irrelevant."
Her breath caught. "Luca..."
He kissed her forehead softly. "And now, I’d burn the whole empire if it meant keeping you."
"Let’s not burn anything before the wedding," she whispered, smiling against his chest.
Later that afternoon, Matteo sauntered into the parlor where Aria was trying to finalize the seating arrangements.
"You look stressed, bella," he drawled, tossing himself onto the couch like he owned it.
"Because your brother invited half of Europe," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
Matteo peeked at her chart and grinned. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
"It’s a disaster," she corrected. "I have rival families sitting within stabbing distance of each other."
"That’s half the entertainment," he quipped.
"Matteo!"
"Relax." He leaned forward, grinning. "Luca’s got security so tight, not even a mosquito’s getting through without clearance."
"That’s not the point," she sighed. "I want this day to be... peaceful. Beautiful. Ours."
Matteo’s grin softened slightly. "You know... I didn’t think you’d last."
She raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
"When this whole thing started, I figured you’d run the first chance you got." His tone was oddly gentle. "But here you are taming the Don."
"Taming him is a stretch," she said, smiling despite herself.
"Maybe. But you changed him," Matteo said quietly. "And that’s no small feat."
There was something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite name. A flicker of longing. Regret. Before she could ask, Luca strode in, exuding the usual command that made the air shift around him.
"Matteo, go bother someone else," he said without looking at his brother.
"Always a pleasure," Matteo muttered, rising with a mock salute before disappearing.
Luca’s gaze softened when it landed on her. "How’s the war map?"
"It’s still a war map," she sighed. "And I think Matteo was flirting with me again."
He froze mid-step. "What?"
She laughed. "Relax. He was being nice. Mostly."
Luca muttered something in Italian under his breath and crossed the room, lifting her chin gently. "If he even looks at you the wrong way, I’ll break his legs."
"Very romantic," she teased. "Should we put that in the vows?"
"Don’t tempt me," he growled, and she laughed harder.
Days melted into nights, and with each passing hour, the wedding became more real. Dresses were fitted. Invitations sent. Security tripled. But amid the frenzy, small, intimate moments stitched themselves into Aria’s heart, quiet breakfasts on the terrace, Luca stealing kisses between meetings, and midnight dances in the empty ballroom where they practiced their first dance under the stars.
One night, a week before the wedding, Aria found Luca on the balcony, staring at the city lights below.
"You’re thinking too much," she said softly, stepping beside him.
"I always think too much," he replied without turning.
"What’s on your mind?"
He exhaled slowly. "The guest list. The alliances. The enemies who will be watching. I can feel the vultures circling, even now."
She touched his hand gently. "We’ll be fine."
His lips twitched into a smile. "How are you so sure?"
"Because we’ve survived worse," she said simply. "And because you’re Luca DeLuca. The man who terrifies half of Europe."
He chuckled at that, finally looking at her. "And the man who is terrified of losing one woman."
Her breath caught. "You’re not going to lose me."
"Promise me," he whispered, his voice suddenly raw. "Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter how dangerous it gets, you’ll stay."
She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I’m not going anywhere, Luca. Not now. Not ever."
He kissed her then, slow and deep, as if sealing that promise in the night air. And for a moment, there was no mafia, no enemies, no looming shadows, just them, wrapped in something that felt stronger than fate.
The next morning brought a new level of chaos: the menu tasting.
"Who knew pasta could cause a war?" Aria muttered as three chefs argued loudly in Italian over sauces.
"Welcome to my world," Luca said dryly, sipping his espresso.
"Okay," Aria said, trying another bite of gnocchi. "This one’s amazing."
Luca tasted it and made a face. "Too much garlic."
"It’s perfect."
"Too much."
"You’re impossible."
"And yet you love me," he said, smirking.
She groaned. "We’re not doing this again."
"Oh, we are."
By the time they settled on a menu after three hours of arguing and two broken plates, Aria collapsed into a chair and laughed until her sides hurt.
"What’s funny?" Luca asked, amused.
"This," she gasped between giggles. "All of it. The chandeliers, the flowers, the garlic. I never imagined I’d be doing this with you."
"Regretting it?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. "Not for a second."
He leaned down, brushing a kiss over her lips. "Neither do I."
That night, lying tangled in each other beneath the silk sheets, Luca traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder. "Do you ever think about the beginning?" he asked quietly.
"All the time," she admitted. "I hated you."
"You still do sometimes."
"Only when you deserve it."
He chuckled. "I remember thinking you were the most infuriating woman I’d ever met."
"And now?"
"Now you’re the air I breathe," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "And I don’t know how I ever lived without you."
Her chest ached at the softness in his voice. "Luca..."
"Marry me quickly," he murmured. "Before I go mad."
She smiled. "We’re almost there."
And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t terrify her. It glowed, bright and terrifying and beautiful, and she couldn’t wait to step into it with him.
But outside the estate walls, in the dark corners of the city, shadows stirred. Invitations to the DeLuca wedding had been received by more than allies. Rivals whispered in alleyways, plans unfolding beneath the moonlight.
And though Aria and Luca didn’t know it yet, their wedding would not only unite two hearts, it would ignite a storm.