Page 13 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
He lifts the veil slowly and gently, like he’s savoring the moment. Then his lips brush against mine before he goes in for the kill.
My breath catches, the intensity of it leaving no room for doubt. He isn’t just kissing me; he’s branding me.
When he pulls back, his lips curve into a faint, knowing smile. “My wife,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that only I can hear.
My stomach twists, and against every sane thought, a delicious shiver runs down my spine, curling and floating into my very heart.
The applause from the guests snaps me out of the moment, and I step back slightly, the heat of his presence still clinging to me.
Luca’s hand finds the small of my back as we turn to face the crowd. As we walk back down the aisle together, I glance at my mother and Sofia. Mom dabs at her eyes with a tissue, and Sofia gives me another small, hesitant smile.
We stop at the edge of the field, where a golf-cart waits to take us to the reception. Before I can step inside, Luca leans close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Tonight,” he says, his voice dark and smooth, “I’m going to enjoy making you mine.”
My pulse quickens, my body betraying me with the heat that flows through my core. I turn to look at him, my lips parting to respond, but no words come out.
His eyes glint with satisfaction as he gestures for me to step inside. And just like that, the cage closes around me.
5
VALENTINA
I’m not sure what stuns me more, the room I’m in or the man I’m going to marry. The chandeliers are real crystal, not that it matters. Everything here glows. The walls are gold-leafed, the floors polished so smooth I can see the hem of my dress in them. People move in quiet circles, sipping, watching, deciding who matters. Luca himself looks about a million dollars.
And then there’s me, feeling like a centerpiece, a fragile porcelain figure set out for admiration. Luca never strays far, his hand a constant weight on my lower back or resting lightly on my arm. It’s not exactly oppressive, but it’s a reminder. A signal to everyone watching that I’m his now, in every way that matters.
I try to focus on the champagne flute in my hand, its delicate stem cool against my palm. The bubbles fizz lazily, mocking my failed attempts to calm myself.
“You’re holding it too tightly,” Luca murmurs beside me, his voice soft enough that only I can hear.
I glance at him, startled. His lips quirk into a faint smile, and he leans in closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against my ear. “It’s just a party, Valentina. Try to enjoy yourself.”
Enjoy myself. The words feel almost cruel in their simplicity.
“Easy for you to say,” I whisper back, surprising even myself. “You’re not the one being paraded around like a prize.”
He pulls back slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. “You’re not a prize,” he says softly, his tone unreadable. “You’re my wife.”
Before I can respond, a voice interrupts us.
“Valentina! There you are.”
I turn to see my mother approaching, her face glowing with something I haven’t seen in years: peace. She looks radiant, her pale blue dress catching the light as she moves.
Luca steps forward to greet her, extending a hand. “Mrs. Russo,” he says, his voice smooth and respectful. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening.”
My mother hesitates for half a second before taking his hand. “I am, Mr. Salvatore. Thank you for everything.”
She glances at me as she says it, and there’s a look in her eyes I can’t quite decipher. Gratitude? Relief?
“What did you do?” I ask Luca softly as she walks away, her steps lighter than I’ve seen in years.
He shrugs, but there’s a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I moved her into a better place. A condo near the waterfront. It’s fully furnished, and there’s someone on staff to help her with anything she needs.”
My breath catches. “You didn’t have to?—”
“She’s your mother,” he interrupts. “And now she’s part of my family. I take care of my own, Valentina.”
