SOLD TO THE MAFIA KING: THE DELUCA BRIDE

Sophia POV "Sign those papers and become a De Luca willingly, Sophia, because if you walk out of this room tonight without writing your name on that contract, your brother’s body will be floating somewhere near the Palermo docks before sunrise.” Gilbert De Luca said it calmly, like threatening people was normal for him. My hands tightened around the edge of the table while I stared at the marriage papers in front of me. Luca sat beside his father without saying a word, looking completely unaffected by what was happening. The room felt too quiet. Too cold. I could hear my heartbeat clearly and honestly, I hated that they could probably see how scared I was. “You people are insane,” I said quietly. Gilbert smiled a little. “And yet you’re still sitting here.” I looked at Luca again, waiting for him to stop this. To say something. Anything. But he just leaned back in his chair with that same unreadable expression on his face like none of this concerned him. That annoyed me more than the threat. “You can’t force me into marriage.” “Actually,” Gilbert said, sliding the papers closer to me, “I can.” I swallowed hard and looked down at my brother’s picture sitting on the table beside the contract. Matteo had probably been terrified when they took that picture. He hated Sicily even more than I did. Everything about this city felt cursed. I should have listened to my father years ago. I should have stayed far away from Palermo and the De Luca family exactly the way he warned me to before he died. But eight months earlier, returning to Sicily had seemed like a good idea. God, I was stupid. Eight months earlier. Coming back to Palermo after ten years felt strange the second I stepped out of the airport. The city still looked exactly the same. Narrow streets. Old buildings. Black cars moving around like they owned the roads. Even the air felt heavy here. Like Sicily remembered everything people tried to bury. Matteo complained the entire drive from the airport while I stared outside the taxi window pretending I wasn’t nervous. He hated the idea of coming back and honestly, he had every right to. Palermo had taken everything from us already. “I still think this is a terrible idea,” Matteo muttered beside me. “We could’ve stayed in Florence.” “We’re only here for a few weeks.” “That’s what you said before booking a six-month apartment.” I ignored him because he wasn’t completely wrong. Part of me knew coming back here wasn’t smart, but after years of hearing half-truths and rumors about our parents, I needed answers. I was tired of pretending the past didn’t exist. The moment the taxi stopped in front of my aunt Rosa’s house, I noticed the look on her face immediately. Fear. Actual fear. She hugged Matteo tightly first before pulling me inside the house quickly like somebody might’ve been watching us from outside. “You shouldn’t have come back,” she said immediately after locking the door. “Especially now.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” Rosa hesitated before lowering her voice. “Things are getting bad in Palermo again. Families are fighting. People are dying.” Matteo rolled his eyes. “That sounds like normal Sicily.” “This isn’t a joke,” she snapped. “Three people were killed last week.” The room became quiet after that. I exchanged a look with Matteo before turning back to her slowly. “Who killed them?” Nobody answered immediately. Then Rosa finally whispered the name I had spent years trying not to hear. “The De Lucas.” A cold feeling settled inside my chest immediately. Even after ten years, that name still carried the same fear. Rosa looked at me carefully before speaking again. “Sophia… if your father were alive right now, he would tell you to leave Palermo immediately.” I forced out a small laugh even though my stomach suddenly felt tight. “You’re acting like they’ll care that Adrian Rossi’s daughter came back to Sicily.” “You don’t understand these people.” “No,” I said quietly. “I understand them perfectly.” Or at least I thought I did. The next few months passed quietly, but something about Palermo kept putting me on edge. Men in black cars stayed parked outside certain buildings for hours. People lowered their voices anytime mafia families were mentioned. Even Matteo stopped joking around after noticing how tense everyone acted. I was already tired of staying inside Rosa’s house listening to warnings every five minutes. So when she mentioned the annual city gala happening that night, I immediately decided I was going. “No,” Rosa said instantly. “Absolutely not.” I frowned while fixing my earrings in the mirror. “It’s just a gala.” “It’s not just a gala. Important families will be there.” “I’m not a child anymore.” “That’s exactly why I’m worried.” I turned around to face her properly. “I came back to Palermo to stop being afraid of this city. I’m not hiding inside this house forever.” Rosa looked like she wanted to argue more, but Matteo suddenly walked past us eating chips like none of this concerned him. “She’s going anyway,” he said casually. “You know how stubborn she is.” I pointed at him immediately. “Exactly.” “You’re both disasters,” Rosa muttered. I had spent almost an hour choosing the dress only to end up wearing a black satin gown that hugged my body perfectly with thin straps resting on my shoulders and a slit running up one side of my leg. It wasn’t too revealing, but it was enough to make me feel confident for the first time since returning to Palermo. An hour later, I found myself standing inside the Palazzo Bellucci Hotel trying not to look overwhelmed. The gala was massive. Expensive dresses. Politicians. Rich businessmen. Security everywhere. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling while classical music played softly in the background. Everybody important in Sicily seemed to be there. I suddenly understood why Rosa didn’t want me coming. “Maybe we should leave after thirty minutes,” Matteo whispered beside me while staring around nervously. I laughed softly. “You’re the one acting scared now?” Before he could answer, movement near the entrance caught everyone’s attention immediately. The entire atmosphere changed. People straightened instantly. Some stepped aside. Others lowered their voices. That was when I saw him for the first time. I knew that face. I had seen his face too many times on news websites, business articles, and blurry CCTV footage connected to crimes nobody could ever prove against him. Luca De Luca. Tall. Calm. Cold. He walked into the gala surrounded by guards and men in black suits while people greeted him carefully like saying the wrong thing could get them killed. His expression never changed once. Not when women stared at him. Not when politicians shook his hand. Nothing. “You know,” Matteo muttered quietly, “he somehow looks worse in person.” I almost laughed. Almost. Because before I could respond properly, somebody suddenly bumped into me hard enough to make me lose balance. Wine spilled down the front of my dress instantly. Cold liquid soaked through the fabric while shocked gasps filled the area around us. I froze. Then slowly looked up. Luca De Luca stared down at me with the same calm expression like he hadn’t just ruined my dress in front of half the city. One of the men behind him immediately stepped forward. “We’ll pay for the dress.” I blinked slowly. “That’s it?” Luca reached into his pocket calmly before pulling out a black card and handing it toward me without even apologizing. The arrogance in that single movement annoyed me immediately. “You spilled wine on me.” “And you’ll be compensated for it.” His voice was deep. Calm. Unbothered. Like money solved everything. Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the attitude. Maybe it was the fact that everybody around us looked terrified to even breathe near him. Or maybe I was simply tired of people like Luca De Luca acting untouchable. Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the wine glass from a waiter passing beside me and poured the entire thing directly onto Luca’s white shirt. The entire ballroom went silent. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Luca looked down slowly at the wine staining his shirt before lifting his eyes back to mine. Dangerous. That was the first real emotion I saw on his face all night. “You should be compensated too,” I said sweetly before slapping him across the face. The sound echoed through the ballroom so loudly that even the musicians stopped playing. And that was the exact moment my life in Palermo officially ended.