Chapter 7 - The Bride Wears Red, The Maid Wears Diamonds
“The police?” Luca snapped, snatching the phone from my hand.
He read the text.
His face hardened into stone. “That wasn’t the police. That was Aaron Pike’s men impersonating officers.”
My knees gave out. Luca caught me before I hit the floor.
“Leo,” I gasped, unable to pull air into my lungs. “They took my baby. They took my son.”
“Look at me,” Luca commanded, his hands gripping my shoulders. “Look at me, Claire.”
I forced my blurry eyes to meet his.
“I swear on my father’s soul,” Luca said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. “No one will hurt a hair on your son’s head. Daniel is already tracking them. Pike isn’t a professional; he’s a desperate gambler. We will find him.”
I sobbed, nodding frantically.
“Get dressed,” Luca ordered. “We are going to the wedding.”
Saturday afternoon.
The Moretti estate was transformed into a sickening display of Bellini triumph. White roses choked the archways. Champagne flowed like water.
Three hundred guests, including the most powerful syndicate bosses in Chicago, mingled in the grand ballroom.
I stood by the caterers' station in my black maid’s uniform, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in my teeth. My knee throbbed, but I barely felt it.
Vanessa descended the grand staircase.
She wore a custom white silk gown. She looked like an angel. She smiled warmly at the guests, playing the perfect, loving bride.
She caught my eye across the room.
Her smile widened.
She subtly tapped her index finger against her thigh—a mocking, rhythmic motion.
Tick. Tock.
She knew they had Leo. She was gloating. She thought she had me completely paralyzed, unable to warn Luca without risking my son’s life.
She didn’t know Luca already knew everything.
The music swelled. The priest took his place at the altar in the garden.
Luca stood there, wearing a sharp black tuxedo. He looked like royalty.
Vanessa’s father, Don Bellini, escorted her down the aisle. He beamed with pride, thinking he had finally consumed the Moretti empire.
When Vanessa reached the altar, she handed her bouquet to her maid of honor.
She took Luca’s hands.
“We are gathered here today,” the priest began.
Luca held up a hand.
The priest stopped. The music abruptly cut out.
Three hundred guests fell dead silent.
Luca turned to Vanessa. He didn’t drop her hands. He squeezed them, just tight enough to make her flinch.
“Before we take our vows,” Luca said, his voice amplified by the garden microphones, carrying over the manicured lawns. “I want to thank my beautiful bride for the incredible gift she prepared for me this week.”
Vanessa frowned, her perfect facade faltering for a microsecond. “Darling, what are you doing?”
Luca ignored her. He looked out at the crowd. He looked directly at Don Bellini.
“Vanessa went through great lengths to organize my father’s belongings,” Luca continued. “She even hired a special transport driver. A man named Aaron Pike.”
A murmur rippled through the front row.
Vanessa’s face went paper white.
“In fact,” Luca smiled, though his eyes were pure ice, “she was so fond of Mr. Pike, she married him in Las Vegas three years ago. A marriage that is still perfectly legal today.”
Chaos erupted in the garden.
Don Bellini shot up from his seat. “Moretti, what is this disrespect?!”
Luca reached into his tuxedo jacket.
He pulled out the yellowed envelopes tied with the blue ribbon.
“The disrespect, Don Bellini,” Luca roared, his voice shaking the glass of the chandeliers in the distance, “is that you sat at my father’s table for ten years, broke bread with him, and then paid a hitman to put three bullets in his chest!”
Vanessa screamed as Luca threw the ledgers and the confession directly at her father’s feet.
The paper scattered across the white rose petals.
“It’s a lie!” Vanessa shrieked, backing away. “He’s insane! Look at the dates—that’s David Dawson’s handwriting! He was a traitor!”
“David Dawson was a hero!” Luca fired back.
Suddenly, a set of heavy French doors slammed open.
Everyone turned.
Daniel walked out onto the patio.
Beside him, bleeding from a split lip and wearing zip-ties around his wrists, was Aaron Pike.
And holding Daniel’s hand, completely unharmed, was Leo.
“Mommy!”
I broke through the line of caterers, sprinting across the grass. I dropped to my knees, catching my son as he ran into my arms.
I buried my face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.
Luca turned back to the altar. Vanessa was shaking, looking wildly for an escape.
“Take them,” Luca ordered.
The Moretti guards swarmed the aisle. They grabbed Don Bellini, who was shouting obscenities, and they grabbed Vanessa by her white silk sleeves.
As they dragged her past me, Vanessa spat on the grass near my shoes. “You’re nothing but a maid!”
Luca stepped off the altar.
He walked directly to me.
He helped me stand up, brushing the dirt from my knees.
Then, in front of the remaining guests, the syndicate bosses, and the crying bride, Luca pulled the velvet box from his pocket.
He took out the diamond necklace.
He stepped behind me and fastened the cold, heavy diamonds around my neck.
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
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“You’re not a maid,” he whispered so the whole garden could hear. “You’re the woman who saved my family.”
TITLE: The Glovebox And The Girl In Sicily
