HIS FORBIDDEN BRIDE

CHAPTER 3

I didn’t sleep again.

At 10:58 PM I sat in my room waiting.

At 11:01, no one came.

At 11:30, I finally breathed.

Luca was a liar.

Or a man who kept promises in his own time.

The next morning, Ms. DeLuca knocked at 6:59.

“Family dinner tonight, Mrs. Romano. 8 PM. Black dress. No jewelry except your ring.”

“Whose family?”

“The Romano family,” she said, like I should know. “All of them.”

Of course. My public execution.

---

By 7:45 I was ready.

Black dress. Hair down. Red lip.

I looked like a warning.

Luca was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

Charcoal suit tonight. White shirt. No tie.

He looked at me once, and his jaw did that tight thing again.

“You look like trouble,” he said.

“Good,” I replied. “I am.”

He held out his arm. I took it.

His hand came down over mine. Possessive.

“The rules still apply tonight,” he murmured as we walked to the car. “Especially rule 5.”

“Play the role of your wife.”

“Exactly.”

“And what role is that?”

“Mine,” he said simply. “Adoring. Loyal. Untouchable.”

The car ride was 20 minutes of silence.

When we pulled up, it wasn’t a house.

It was a mansion. Bigger than Luca’s. More lights. More guns.

Valets. Guards. Cameras.

And at the top of the steps: _The Romano Family._

An older woman in diamonds. Luca’s mother.

A man in his 40s with Luca’s eyes but softer. His uncle.

And a woman my age in red. Curly hair. Wine in hand.

Sophia Romano. His sister.

She saw me and smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Brother,” she said, kissing Luca’s cheek. “And this must be the bride.”

Her eyes raked me. Head to toe. “Red suits you. Wait, no. Black’s better. Mourning?”

Luca’s arm tightened around me. “Lila, this is Sophia. My sister.”

“Welcome to the family,” Sophia said. “Try not to get killed.”

Charming.

Dinner was in a room that could seat 50. There were 14 of us.

Luca sat at the head. I sat to his right.

His mother to his left. Sophia across from me.

The first hour was politics. Business. Names I didn’t know.

I ate. I smiled when Luca’s hand touched my knee under the table.

I didn’t flinch when his thumb drew circles.

Rule 3. He was inviting it. In public.

Then dessert came. Tiramisu.

And Sophia leaned forward.

“So, Lila,” she said sweetly. “How did you and my brother meet?”

The table went quiet.

Luca answered before I could. “Business.”

“Right,” Sophia said. “Business. Your father’s debt.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.

Luca’s hand on my knee went still.

“What my sister means,” Luca said, voice dangerously soft, “is that the Moretti family is now family.”

“Of course,” Sophia said. “I’m just curious. Did you love him immediately? Or did it take the 40 million to grow on you?”

Someone coughed.

My face burned. But I didn’t look down.

I set my fork down. Met Sophia’s eyes.

“I met your brother when he was buying things,” I said. Clear. Calm. “Turns out, he’s very good at it.”

A few people laughed. Nervous.

Sophia’s smile sharpened. “And are you good at being bought?”

“Lila,” Luca warned. Low.

I ignored him. “I’m excellent at surviving,” I said. “Which is more than I can say for the last three women your brother dated.”

The table went dead silent.

Sophia’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said. “I did my homework. Carla. Died in a car crash. Maria. Moved to Europe after ‘an accident’. And what was the third one’s name? The model?”

“Enough,” Luca said. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Sophia.

Sophia stood. Wine sloshing. “You think you can come in here, with your debt and your red dress, and talk about—”

“I think,” I cut in, standing too, “that if you wanted to ask me questions, you could’ve done it privately. Instead you chose to humiliate me at dinner.”

I turned to Luca’s mother. “Signora Romano. Was this dinner to welcome me? Or to test me?”

The older woman blinked. Then, slowly, she smiled.

“Sit down, both of you,” she said. “Before you embarrass us further.”

I sat.

Sophia sat. But she was shaking.

Luca didn’t say anything. But under the table, his hand found mine.

Laced our fingers together. Squeezed.

_Good girl,_ that squeeze said.

Dinner ended 20 minutes later.

As we were leaving, Sophia caught my arm in the hallway.

Hard.

“Listen to me, you little gold-digging—”

I didn’t let her finish.

I twisted. Caught her wrist. And pushed her back against the wall.

Not hard. Just enough.

“Don’t touch me,” I said quietly. “Ever again.”

Sophia stared at me. Shock. Then fury.

Luca was there in 2 seconds. He pulled me back. Not rough. But firm.

“What the hell, Lila?”

“She grabbed me first,” I said. Steady. Even though my heart was racing.

Sophia smoothed her dress. “She attacked me.”

Luca looked between us. Then at me.

His eyes were dark. Unreadable.

“Car,” he said. To no one. To everyone.

The ride home was silent.

Tense. Angry. I couldn’t tell whose.

When we got to his house, he didn’t go to his office.

He went to my room.

Shut the door. Locked it.

“What was that?” he asked. No yelling. Worse.

“The truth,” I said.

“You embarrassed my sister in front of the entire family.”

“She started it.”

“I don’t care who started it,” he snapped. Then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“So could she.”

Luca stared at me. “You have no idea what you just did.”

“Then tell me.”

He crossed the room. Stopped in front of me.

“You just declared war on Sophia. And she doesn’t fight fair.”

“Good,” I said. “Neither do I.”

A long pause.

Then Luca laughed. Once. Sharp. Surprised.

“You’re insane,” he said.

“Maybe.”

He reached out. Tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered.

“You were perfect tonight,” he said quietly. “Until you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t going to let her talk to me like that.”

“I know.” His thumb brushed my cheekbone. “That’s why I’m not punishing you.”

My breath hitched. “What are you doing instead?”

“Rewarding you.”

He stepped back. Went to the door. Opened it.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“The west wing. Again. I’m inviting you.”

My stomach flipped.

I followed him.

His office was dark except for one lamp.

He poured whiskey. Handed me one.

“To surviving family dinner,” he said.

We drank.

Luca set his glass down. Came to stand in front of me.

“You broke rule 5 tonight,” he said. “You didn’t play the role.”

“I played my role,” I said. “The role of a woman who doesn’t get stepped on.”

His eyes darkened. “And rule 3?”

“What about it?”

“You touched me. Under the table.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.” His hand came up. Caught my wrist. Pulled my hand to his chest again. Over his heart. “Right here.”

My palm was flat against him. His heart was racing.

“Consequence,” he murmured.

My throat was dry. “What’s the consequence?”

Luca leaned in. His mouth was a breath from my ear.

“The consequence, Lila, is that starting now, I don’t care about rule 3 anymore.”

I froze. “What?”

He pulled back just enough to look at me.

“I don’t want a business arrangement. Not anymore. Not after tonight.”

“Luca—”

“Shh.” His other hand came up. Framed my face. “You were brave. You were mine. And anyone who tries to hurt you answers to me.”

Then he kissed me.

Not like in the church.

This was slow. Deep. Angry and careful at the same time.

His hand in my hair. Mine fisted in his shirt.

When we broke apart, both of us were breathing hard.

“Rule 3 is gone,” he said against my lips. “New rule. You can touch me whenever you want.”

“And if I do?”

“Then I’ll touch you back.”

The promise in his voice made my knees weak.

He pulled back. “Go to bed, Lila.”

“Are you coming?”

Luca smiled. That rare, dangerous smile.

“Not tonight. But soon.”

He walked me to my door. Kissed my forehead.

“Goodnight, wife.”

I went inside. Locked the door.

And pressed my fingers to my lips.

The Devil didn’t just want me.

He was choosing me.

And tomorrow, Sophia will know it too.