Chapter 16
1160 Words
Luca's POV
The dining room in Bianca’s family mansion was an immaculate display of wealth and excess: a long table adorned with crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and floral centerpieces that screamed pretentious overindulgence. But it wasn’t the décor testing my patience—it was the company.
Bianca’s father swirled his wine with an air of superiority, disdain practically radiating off him. Her mother, ever the drama queen, punctuated every word with exaggerated hand movements, complaining about how poorly I was treating their “precious” daughter. And then there was her brother, a football star who clearly enjoyed his self-appointed role as the family spokesperson.
“You don’t have the right to treat Bianca this way,” her father said, his tone laced with condescension. “She’s not just anyone. She’s our jewel.”
I forced a polite smile. “I wasn’t aware I’d mistreated her.”
“You don’t see?” her mother interjected, her thick Mexican accent heightening her indignation. “You’re giving her nothing, Luca! A woman of her caliber deserves the best—grandeur, celebrations, adoration. And what do you offer her? Private dinners and quiet gatherings? Shameful!”
Bianca’s brother leaned forward, a smug grin plastered on his face. “She has friends—important friends—and I have fans. A private wedding? That’s not just insulting; it’s a slap in the face to everyone who matters.”
The word "insult" grated against my nerves, but I bit my tongue. I reminded myself that I needed this arrangement—for now. Bianca’s father controlled one of the largest hotel chains in the country, and his connections kept my legitimate front afloat. It was a small price to pay for maintaining my empire's shadowy underbelly. Or so I thought.
Her mother leaned forward, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “We’ve already started making arrangements for a larger wedding. It’s what’s best for everyone.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A quick glance under the table revealed Mario’s frantic messages.
MARIO: Warehouse blown up. Everyone dead except one. At the hospital now. You need to hear this before he dies.
The room suddenly felt stifling. The betrayal burned at the edges of my mind, but I had to keep my focus on the circus playing out in front of me.
“And the reception,” Bianca’s brother continued, oblivious to my simmering rage. “It has to be at the Rivera Grand. I’ll make the calls.”
The Rivera Grand. Of course, they’d want to flaunt their wealth in one of their flagship properties.
“Luca,” her father drawled, as though addressing a child. “You need to understand something. A man in your position should know how to respect his future wife’s wishes.”
That was it. The last straw.
I slammed my hand on the table, the sharp crack silencing the room. Crystal glasses rattled, and all three of them gaped at me as though I’d just flipped the table.
“Well, that’s a deal breaker,” I said, my voice calm yet cold. I rose from my seat, straightening my jacket as I met their stunned gazes. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Bianca’s shrill voice echoed after me, but I didn’t look back. Mario stood by the door, his face a mix of urgency and relief. “We need to go,” I said curtly, brushing past him.
Scene Transition: The Hospital
The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air as I strode through the hospital corridors, Mario close behind. Antonio, the sole survivor of the warehouse explosion, lay on the gurney, his body barely recognizable beneath layers of bandages and tubes. Blood seeped through the fabric, a grim reminder of how close he was to death.
I leaned over him, my voice low. “Antonio. I’m here.”
His eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain. “Boss…” he rasped, the word barely audible. His chest heaved as he forced out his last message. “He said… he’s back… to take what is his.”
The words hung in the air like a death knell.
“Who?” I demanded, my voice sharp, but his eyes rolled back, and the monitor flatlined.
“Antonio!” Mario’s shout reverberated through the room as his frustration boiled over. He swiped everything off the bedside table, sending it crashing to the floor. “Useless!” he spat. “He couldn’t even give us a name! What good is this?”
“That’s enough.” My voice was low, dangerous.
Mario froze, his anger deflating as I reached out and closed Antonio’s lifeless eyes. “Rest in peace, Antonio,” I murmured, my chest tight. “Thank you for your service.”
As we walked out, Mario glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “Boss, you’re too quiet. What’s the plan?”
I met his gaze. “Take the day off. Tell the others to secure their families. No one panics yet.”
“And what about you?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.
“I’m going to see Gio.”
As I arrived at the club, the music pulsed through the building, a stark contrast to the events of the day. Gio was already at the bar, two glasses of whiskey waiting. He grinned as I approached, clapping me on the back. “Luca, you look like hell. What’s going on?”
“Too much,” I admitted, downing the drink in one go.
Gio’s face grew serious as he leaned closer. “I heard rumors. Tell me it’s not him.”
“It’s him.” My voice was a growl, the whiskey burning my throat.
He cursed under his breath, rubbing his temples. “Why now? Why, of all times, when I just got back from Spain?”
“Because chaos is his playground,” I said, motioning for another drink. “But I’ll handle it.”
Gio studied me for a moment. “And the wedding?”
“I’m thinking of calling it off,” I admitted, surprising even myself with the words.
Gio raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. “Because of Bianca? Or because of someone else?”
I didn’t respond immediately, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. The thought of Christine flashed briefly through my mind, but I shoved it down.
“Luca,” Gio pressed, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Are you in love with someone else?”
I smirked, shaking my head. “Love doesn’t factor into this.”
“Then why are you hesitating?”
I met his gaze, my resolve hardening. “Because Bianca’s family is becoming more trouble than they’re worth. And I don’t need liabilities.”
Gio didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide, raising his glass in a silent toast. “To old friends and bigger problems.”
I clinked my glass against his, the weight of everything unsaid settling heavily between us.
- Writer
