Claimed by the Hellbound Rider

Champagne Smiles

Elena POV

Diamonds cascaded down the woman’s throat as she congratulated Luca and me on our engagement.

I smiled on instinct while Luca thanked her beside me, his hand warm against the bare skin at the small of my back.

We’d spent the last hour working our way through half of New York City’s elite—politicians, CEOs, socialites, and men powerful enough to make entire rooms shift when they entered them.

I expected nothing less from the heir of the Mancini Syndicate.

People watched Luca wherever he went. Some openly. Others with the careful subtlety of people who understood exactly how dangerous it was to stare too long at a Mancini. Politicians angled for his attention. Wealthy businessmen laughed a little too hard at his jokes. Women looked at him like temptation wrapped in an Italian suit.

And Luca handled it all effortlessly. Charming when he chose to be. Cold when he needed to be. Powerful without ever raising his voice.

It should have intimidated me. Maybe it would have, once upon a time. But after three years together, I’d grown used to the way rooms bent around him.

More than that, I’d grown used to the way he softened whenever his attention settled on me.

Still, I was exhausted. Empty platitudes and champagne smiles weren’t my favorite way to spend an evening.

If I was being honest, I’d rather be curled up in our penthouse with Luca, sharing a banana split while we laughed over old reruns of Coupling.

“Tired, tesoro?” Luca murmured close to my ear.

I smiled up at him, his attention fixed entirely on me despite the hundreds of people surrounding us. “I can think of so many things I’d rather be doing with you right now,” I teased.

Heat flared in his gaze, and he pulled me tighter against him. “Make a list. We’ll start on it as soon as we’re done here,” he whispered, brushing his lips along my neck.

The music changed, and he pulled me onto the dance floor. I melted against him as the slow strains of a Sinatra ballad drifted through the ballroom. Pressed against him like this, secure in his arms, it was as if we were the only two people in the room.

Luca had always been like this with me. Attentive in ways that felt almost unfair. He noticed everything—when my social battery was draining, when my anxiety started creeping up, when I needed rescuing from conversations I didn’t want to have.

He’d once slipped me out of a charity gala halfway through dessert because he realized I was close to a panic attack before I’d even fully recognized it myself.

Safe. That was the word that always came to mind when I thought about Luca Mancini. Safe and loved.

I had to stop myself from pouting when the song was over, and we separated.

He laced his fingers through mine and snagged a glass of bubbly from a passing server. He took a sip, nodded his approval, and handed the glass to me. “You’ll like this one, Elena. Crisp and dry, just the way you prefer.”

Dutifully, I brought the glass to my lips and let the bubbles tickle my nose. It smelled wonderful, and Luca was right. I did like it.

“You know me so well, my love. You spoil me.”

He grinned, the dimple in his left cheek flashing, as he brought my hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss there. “Not possible, tesoro.” He didn’t get to say more as one of his men stepped up to his other side.

Tattoos covered the guard’s hands and peeked out from his shirt collar. He had small, dark eyes that continually scanned the crowd as he leaned into Luca to speak in his ear. I couldn’t make out what he said, but by the way Luca’s mouth tightened, it wasn’t pleasant news.

I knew exactly who Luca was. Everyone in New York did. The Mancinis owned too much of the city for people not to know their names. But even with the dark side of the underworld, I never felt unsafe. Luca, my Luca, wouldn’t let anything happen to me. And that security meant almost as much to me as his love. When you grew up the way I did, how could it not?

Luca turned to me, apologetic. He cupped my face, lightly rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “I’m sorry, Elena. It seems my father needs me for some business. Apparently, there isn’t a better time for it.” Irritation laced the words. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get yourself some food, okay?” He pressed a kiss to my lips and followed the guard toward one of the side doors.

Conversations shifted subtly in his wake, men stepping aside without hesitation as he crossed the ballroom. I watched until I could no longer see him, then turned toward one of the small food stations set up throughout the room, more interested in escaping the crowd for a minute than the delicate hors d’oeuvres waiting there. At least food didn’t expect witty conversation or political charm.

The station overflowed with miniature pastries, carved meats, and expensive cheeses that probably cost more than my first apartment’s rent. I grabbed one of the small plates and started putting a little of everything on it. Whatever I didn’t eat, Luca would finish when he came back.

He was endlessly amused by the fact that I loaded my plate like I’d forgotten where I came from every time I saw free food. It didn’t matter that I lived in a penthouse now or wore dresses that cost more than a car. Some habits from childhood never fully disappeared.

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach, tesoro,” he always teased before stealing half of whatever I couldn’t finish.

Just as I turned to go, someone stepped into my path. The plate flipped, streaking soft cheese and balsamic glaze across the front of my dress. My ten-thousand-dollar dress—the one I’d argued Luca absolutely did not need to buy me—but he insisted on getting me, anyway. Now it was ruined.