Chapter Nine: The Real Deal
694 Words
The envelope lay between them like a live wire.
Emily watched as Luciano paced the salon, his movements sharp with barely leashed fury. The revelation about his father had shattered something inside him—she could see it in the tightness of his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed and unfurled at his sides.
"You knew," she said softly. "Some part of you had to suspect."
He stopped, his back to her. "I knew he wasn't a saint. But this?" He turned, his green eyes burning. "He died a martyr, and I spent years despising him for it."
Her heart ached for him. She crossed the room, stopping just short of touching him. "You couldn't have known."
His laugh was bitter. "I should have."
The weight of his guilt was palpable, pressing down on them both. Emily hesitated, then reached for the envelope. "What do we do with this?"
Luciano's gaze darkened. "We use it. Isabella wants to play games? Fine. But she won't win."
A knock at the door interrupted them. A staff member entered, bowing slightly. "*Signore*, the doctor is asking for you. Your grandfather—"
Luciano was moving before the man finished speaking. Emily followed, her stomach in knots.
Vittorio's room was quieter now, the medical team standing back as the old man struggled to sit up. His gaze locked onto Luciano, then Emily, and something like satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
"Good," he rasped. "You're both here."
Luciano stepped forward. "*Nonno*—"
"Enough." Vittorio waved a hand. "I don't have time for your dramatics." He coughed, then fixed Emily with a piercing stare. "You said you love him. Prove it."
Emily blinked. "What?"
Vittorio's lips curled into a smirk. "Marry him. Today. Right now."
Luciano stiffened. "*What?*"
"The priest is here," Vittorio said, as if discussing the weather. "The family is gathered. Do it."
Emily's pulse roared in her ears. This wasn't part of the plan. None of this was.
But Luciano was watching her, his expression unreadable.
Vittorio chuckled weakly. "What's the matter, boy? Scared she'll say no?"
Luciano's jaw clenched. Then, without breaking eye contact with Emily, he dropped to one knee.
The room gasped.
"Emily Carter," he said, his voice rough but steady. "Marry me. For real. No contracts, no lies. Just us."
Her breath caught. This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it. But looking into his eyes—seeing the vulnerability there, the hope—she knew her answer.
"Yes."
The word was barely a whisper, but it echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Vittorio grinned. "Good. Now get out. The priest will be waiting in the chapel."
As they turned to leave, Vittorio called out one last time—
"And Luciano? Don't screw this up."
---
### **The Chapel**
The small family chapel was packed. Every De Luca relative, every associate, every vulture waiting to see how this would play out.
Emily stood at the altar, her borrowed white dress shimmering under the candlelight. Luciano, dressed in a fresh suit, looked like he wanted to murder everyone in the room.
The priest began the ceremony.
"Do you, Luciano—"
"*Sì*," he growled.
The priest blinked. "And do you, Emily—"
"Yes."
The priest sighed. "Then I now pronounce you—"
The chapel doors burst open.
Isabella stood there, her face flushed with fury. "Stop this *farce*!"
The crowd erupted.
Luciano stepped in front of Emily, shielding her. "You're not welcome here."
Isabella's laugh was shrill. "No? Then maybe your *wife* would like to know about the *other* woman you've been keeping in Milan!"
The room went silent.
Emily's stomach dropped.
Luciano didn't move. "Get out."
Isabella smirked. "Or what? You'll have me thrown out? Like you did to *her*?"
Emily's hands clenched. She should have seen this coming. Should have known—
Then Luciano turned to her, his expression deadly serious. "There is no other woman."
Isabella scoffed. "Liar!"
"Enough!"
The voice came from the back of the chapel. A woman stepped forward—tall, elegant, with Luciano's same piercing green eyes.
Emily had never seen her before.
The woman smiled. "Hello, Emily. I'm Alessandra. Luciano's *sister*."
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