Page 15 of Marcello DeLuca

A year had passed since that unforgettable opening night for Romeo and Juliet. Now, Marcello was set to graduate high school, and my uncle had agreed to let me attend the ceremony and a celebratory dinner with his family. However, before agreeing, he had insisted on talking to Marcello’s father, Ramiri, to ensure my safety.

After much deliberation during our ensuing nightly sparring matches, he gave his blessing for me to spend my first unchaperoned night with Marcello as long as I was home by eleven p.m. I thanked him profusely and spent the entire day finding the perfect dress to wear, finally deciding on a turquoise off shoulder summer dress.

Marcello had mentally prepared me for my time with his family, letting me know they were an offspring of a powerful Italian family known as the Savage Bloodline. Sensing my unease, he assured me that I would be safe around them, and quite frankly, that the DeLuca home was one of the safest places to be in the entire state.

As I sat in the auditorium where the graduation was held, the anticipation buzzing in the air was contagious. The graduates were a sea of black caps and gowns, but my eyes were fixed on just one figure. When Marcello’s name was called, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I screamed his name, the sound echoing in the hall. I watched eagerly as he crossed the stage, his confident stride carrying him toward his diploma. His father beamed with pride beside me, clapping and whistling.

The moment the ceremony ended, I bolted from my seat, weaving through the throngs of people to reach him. With yellow roses clutched in my hand, I threw myself into his arms, feeling his strength envelop me as he lifted me off the ground. Laughter came easily as I held on tight. “You made it out of high school! You’re a grown man now,” I teased as he eased me back onto my feet.

Marcello’s face lit up with that irresistible smile of his, and he scattered kisses all over my cheeks, each one sending a flutter through my heart. “Thanks so much for coming, baby! I’m your grown man now and forever.”

I gazed into his piercing brown eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Congratulations! You’ve worked so hard for this.”

He held my gaze as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment. “Thanks, but today wouldn't have been the same without you being here with me.”

We stood there oblivious to the crowd bustling around us. Once again, it felt like the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of us. Then, a gentle throat-clearing pulled us back to reality. We turned to see Marcello's father, Ramiri, standing a few steps away with a proud smile on his face.

“Congratulations, son,” Ramiri said, his deep voice filled with warmth and pride. He clapped Marcello on the back, his eyes gleaming with approval. “You’ve made us all very proud today.”

Marcello’s smile widened as he turned to embrace his father. “Thanks, Dad. But you would have killed me if I hadn’t made it to graduation.”

“I wouldn’t say kill, but maybe I would have done something a little lighter,” Ramiri joked before his gaze shifted to me. “Your beautiful friend here wouldn’t have allowed me to kill you.”

I nodded in agreement and replied, “No, I couldn’t allow that.”

“Thanks for having my back.” Marcello chuckled, his hand slightly tightening around mine. “Are you ready to meet the rest of my family? You’re going to love them.”

I nodded, and Ramiri led the way to the car.

As we drove towards their home, the drive was filled with animated conversation, and I couldn’t help but admire the close bond between Marcello and his father. Their relationship was one of mutual respect and deep affection, and while it made me long for just one more day with my father, it warmed my heart to witness it.

When we arrived at the house, which looked more like a compound, my breath caught in my throat. The estate was more than beautiful. It was exquisite. The grand entrance, flanked by lush gardens and towering trees, led to a mansion that seemed to glow under the setting sun. I knew the DeLucas were rich, based on what Marcello told me of his family’s business, but their home was grander than anyplace I had ever been.

As we entered the house, I was struck by the luxury of the grand, inviting foyer and living room. Soft light filtered through crystal chandeliers, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floors. Rich paintings decorated the walls, their intricate designs telling stories of the DeLuca legacy.

Marcello squeezed my hand, a proud smile playing on his lips. “Welcome to our home.”

“Wow,” I breathed, unable to contain my amazement. “This is... breathtaking.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Ramiri responded, guiding us to the dining room where a huge feast fit for an army awaited.

The sprawling table was set with exquisite china and sparkling crystal. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of delicious dishes. It was a celebration befitting a king.

Throughout the evening, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Marcello. Seeing him in this opulent setting, surrounded by his family, gave me a different view of his world. However, somehow and remarkably, he remained the same Marcello I had fallen in love with at the theater. He laughed, talked, and enjoyed the finer things in life with the same candor he enjoyed a cheap cup of coffee on the impoverished Hanover Street.

Sure, I found myself occasionally marveling at the beauty and grace of the home, but more than that, I was struck by the warmth and openness of the DeLuca family. They welcomed me into their world with open arms, making me feel like I truly belonged.

After dinner, I found myself standing near the grand fireplace, admiring a painting that hung above it, when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

“You must be the stunning Lanay that has captured my friend’s attention,” a young man said, his tone casual yet tinged with curiosity. He was tall and striking, with a playful glint in his eye. “I’m Romeo. Marcello’s talked about you a lot, and I have caught glimpses of you from across the street.”

I smiled politely, extending my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Romeo. Marcello has told me about his friends too.”

Romeo took my hand in his gentle grip. “Only good things, I hope?” he asked, his voice dropping into a smooth, almost flirtatious murmur.

“Mostly,” I replied, laughing softly. “He did mention you have a bit of a reputation with the ladies.”

Romeo grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Ah, don’t believe everything you hear. I’m much more loyal than my charm allows people to believe.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “And I must say, you’re even more stunning than Marcello described.”

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