Page 38 of Luciano

“I don’t have vows prepared. But I’ll say this—I’m going to trust you. I don’t know what this is going to be, or if I’ll ever feel the way you do. But marriage is an experience, and I’ll let myself experience it.”

Slowly, he nodded.

The officiant cleared his throat and continued the ceremony.

Honestly, I zoned out again until he pulled me into him. His lips brushed against mine, he slid me just enough tongue to make me forget where we were. It wasn’t a messy or desperate kiss. It was control wrapped in heat, possession masked as restraint.

He tasted like mint, clean and cool.

When he finally let me go, I blinked up at him, my breath uneven.

Luciano was already watching me, eyes dark green behind his glasses, his smirk cocky, showing me he had layers.

A few seconds later, he slipped the ring he’d tried to give me the day before on my finger. And just like that, I became Ava Genovese.

Chapter 18

Ava

The reception was inside the house. I watched everybody through tipsy eyes. It was a spectacle of wealth and power, draped in white and gold—and something much darker.

The room was filled with criminals dressed as kings, men who had spilled blood sitting beside politicians who pretended their hands were clean. The women were dripped in diamonds, their gowns sweeping the marble floors as they laughed with lips painted red. The music made me feel sleepy. Business was still being conducted, but discreetly over champagne flutes. It reeked of danger.

I liked this. I couldn’t deny the pull to the dark side I was feeling. It felt better being on the inside than outside looking in.

Maybe it was the liquor that had me thinking like this. Maybe it had loosened my inhibitions—I’d drunk more than my fair share. Or maybe it was all the promises Luciano had made. Or maybe it was heredity. I was my daddy’s daughter, with his blood running thick in my veins. It was whispering to me in a voice I couldn’t ignore—didn’t want to ignore.

Just a glimpse of the power I could wield had me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself. Was I really so different from the people in this room? Had I been lying tomyself all along, pretending I could outrun the life that had shaped me? I had prayed for peace, for a life untouched by the chaos that had defined my childhood—but peace had never come. And it wouldn’t now that I had been pulled back in.

Maybe I belonged here. Not as a victim, not as a pawn, but as a player.

Luciano cleared his throat, drawing my attention. He was so handsome, with his crazy-ass. There was something innocent about him when you looked past the trauma though.

"What would it be like… to control a man like him? To have unwavering, unquestioning devotion? To know that with just a word, just a touch, I could direct that violence wherever I wanted? To have him ruin people for me."

He would probably do anything for me with the right motivation. But what motivated someone like him? I’d have to find out and use it to my advantage.

We sat at the head table, side by side, just the two of us, looking out into the crowd. His hand was resting on my thigh beneath the table, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the skin just below my hip. At some point, he had pushed the fabric of my dress higher—just enough to bare my thigh to him.

His touch was light, almost absentminded.

But it was driving me crazy when I paid too much attention to it. The pretty panties I was wearing were a mess.

I shifted slightly, pressing my legs together, trying to break the contact and ease the ache between my thighs. His fingers stilled for half a second. Then he spread his palm wider, pressing it into my thigh, pinning me in place.

I stole a glance at him and met his eyes.

Tilting his head slightly, his green eyes gleamed behind his glasses as he stared me down.

There was a challenge.

He was daring me to move away from his touch.

What had happened to the blushing man from hours earlier? I wasn’t tipsy enough to ask.

I turned away.

My eyes landed on his father, who sat nearby, his presence a black hole. I could feel his eyes on me even when I wasn’t looking. He wasn’t happy about this marriage, not really. Now he would have to deal with the daughter of the woman he’d murdered again. And that would always make me an inconvenience. A reminder of the woman who didn’t want him.

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