I hesitated at first, my thumb pressing hard against the silver rosary bracelet at my wrist. Then I opened the door and slid into the leather seat.
Behind me, Dante's voice cut through the night air like something edged. "Adriana! Get out of that car right now!"
I didn't move.
Luca leaned in close. He turned my face toward the glow of the dashboard with careful fingers, tilting my chin so the light caught the side of my cheek.
His brows drew together the moment he saw the mark. "He hit you?" His voice was quiet, but full of restrained anger. The kind that sat low in a man's chest and didn't need volume to be dangerous.
He unbuckled his seatbelt in one sharp motion, clearly ready to get out of the car.
I grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"
He turned back to look at me, his face tense, the lines of his jaw set hard enough to cut. "What do you think?"
God. Was he really going to confront Dante? The heir to the Falcone Family? For me?
I kept my voice low. "Just drive. I don't want to be here anymore."
And I really didn't want to see Dante again. Not standing in the courtyard of that guarded estate like he owned every stone, every shadow, every breath I took inside its walls.
Luca paused. His hand stayed on the door handle for a long beat, and I could feel the argument running through him, the way a man who has talked down capos and consiglieri weighs a decision in silence. But then he turned the key and pulled away from the curb.
In the rearview mirror, I saw Dante striding toward the car, the compound lights throwing his silhouette long across the gravel. "Adriana! If you leave now, don't bother coming back!"
His voice rang out behind us like a final warning, the kind of declaration men in this world didn't make lightly because it would be remembered by every soldier and gate guard who overheard it.
I turned in my seat and looked back at him. "Fine."
Not sure if he heard it, but I meant every word.
I had already made up my mind. I was going to dissolve this blood-bound union with Dante. I didn't plan on going back to that house ever again. Let the elders talk, let Carmela clutch her handkerchief and weep about disgrace. I was done.
Luca drove fast the entire way. His hands sat rigid on the wheel and there was a tension in his shoulders I wasn't used to seeing. He'd always been calm and collected, the kind of man whose composure made courtrooms fall quiet. This was the first time I'd seen him so on edge, and the fact that he didn't try to hide it unsettled me almost as much as what I'd left behind.
I pulled a cigarette from my bag and held it up toward him. "Mind if I smoke?"
Luca shook his head.
I lit it and rolled the window halfway down. As soon as I did, he eased off the gas. Cold wind rushed into the car and hit me square in the face, carrying with it the faint diesel scent of the waterfront district where Falcone shipping containers sat stacked like dark monuments.
I exhaled a long trail of smoke before speaking. "You got a place I can crash? I've just been kicked out and need somewhere to stay, for now."
He glanced over at me briefly. "Yeah."
Just one word. But from Luca, one word was a promise notarized.
By the time I finished my cigarette, Luca had already pulled over on a quiet side street lined with old brownstones, the kind of block that looked residential enough to stay off anyone's radar.
"I've got a small apartment," he said, cutting the engine. "I use it sometimes when work keeps me too busy to go home. Someone comes by to clean it regularly. You can stay there."
He led me upstairs.
On the way, I asked him, "Luca, why did you decide to become a lawyer?"
Considering his background, his ties to the Valente outfit, the connections that could have set him on an entirely different path, he should've been positioned to rise through the ranks, not sit for a bar exam.
He held the elevator for me, then stepped in and turned to face me. "Wasn't that your dream?"
His words froze the smile on my face. I looked down and let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. I almost forgot."
Besides being the Falcone bride, I was still Adriana.
