Chapter 5 – The Devil’s Table
745 Words
The car was sleek and black—Luca’s usual style. He opened the door for me himself, and I slid into the leather seat, nerves bunching in my stomach.
Tonight wasn’t just any night.
It was the first time he was truly letting me into his world.
I’d gotten dressed in something he left on my bed earlier—a fitted black dress, no frills, no distractions. Just clean lines and bold confidence. I looked like a mafia wife, but I didn’t feel like one.
Not yet.
We rode in silence through the city, the tension between us thick enough to choke on. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. Just stared straight ahead like a man preparing for war.
“You sure I should be there?” I finally asked, breaking the quiet.
“I wouldn’t bring you if I wasn’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glanced at me, jaw tight. “There are people who need to see who you are. That you’re mine. That you’re untouchable.”
I swallowed. “And if I don’t want to belong to anyone?”
He didn’t smile. But his voice was low when he said, “Too late.”
The place wasn’t some shady warehouse like I imagined—it was a private penthouse, guarded by men in tailored suits who all carried weapons like they were part of their skin.
Luca held my hand as we walked in, and I let him, mostly because I couldn’t stop my fingers from trembling.
Inside, the energy changed.
The room was filled with men in power. Silent conversations. Hidden threats. Deals being sealed without a single word.
All eyes turned to Luca.
And then to me.
He didn’t introduce me with words. Just pulled out a chair at a long marble table and nodded for me to sit beside him.
I took my seat, spine straight, heart hammering.
That’s when he spoke for the first time to the others.
“This is Eliana. My wife.”
A few exchanged glances. One of them, an older man with icy blue eyes and a scar across his cheek, leaned back in his chair and let out a slow, disbelieving laugh.
“I heard you married a waitress,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Didn’t think the rumors were true.”
Luca didn’t flinch. “She’s not just a waitress.”
His hand found mine under the table and squeezed—hard.
“She’s the reason you’re all still breathing.”
The man blinked.
“Explain,” he said, suddenly less amused.
“She’s connected to Arturo Cortez,” Luca said plainly. “Which means if any of you had touched her before I married her, this city would be burning. You’re welcome.”
They all went still.
My blood ran cold.
Wait—my father was Arturo Cortez?
That name was familiar. Too familiar. Like something whispered in every back alley of the Bronx.
But I’d never connected it to me.
Luca turned his head slightly. “I told you there were things I hadn’t shared yet.”
I couldn’t speak.
I couldn’t even breathe.
One of the other men leaned forward. “So she’s not just some girl off the street. She’s mafia blood?”
“Not just blood,” Luca said. “She’s leverage. And now that she’s mine, no one touches her. Ever.”
I sat frozen, fire crawling up my spine, a thousand questions choking me from the inside out.
Who was I?
Who was my father, really?
And why did Luca act like this was all some kind of master plan?
After the meeting, I stormed out to the balcony, lungs begging for air.
Luca followed quietly.
“You knew all along?” I snapped. “You knew who my father was, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I needed you safe before I told you everything.”
I shook my head. “You used me. You married me for protection. You made me a pawn in your game.”
“No,” he said, voice tight. “I married you to end the game.”
I turned on him. “And what if I didn’t want to play at all?”
He stepped forward, eyes burning. “But you did. You just didn’t know it yet.”
I backed up, heart hammering.
“I was never going to be normal, Eliana. Not with blood like
- Writer
