Chapter 8 - THE HEIRLOOM
Luca opened the velvet box.
Inside rested a breathtaking, vintage diamond ring. The band was gold, intricately carved with tiny vines, and the center diamond was flanked by two deep blue sapphires.
It was stunningly beautiful.
But it wasn't a newly purchased ring. It was old.
Teresa gasped softly.
“That was your grandmother’s engagement ring,” she whispered. “Giovanni’s mother. I thought it was lost decades ago.”
Luca pulled a small, folded note from beneath the ring cushion.
He read it silently.
His dark eyes slowly lifted from the paper and locked onto me.
My breath caught in my throat. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming.
“What does it say, sweetheart?” Teresa asked.
Luca didn't look away from me as he read his father’s final words aloud.
“Give this to the woman who loves this family for what it is, not for what she can take from it. Give it to the woman who protects your mother when you are not there to do it yourself.”
The vault was completely silent.
My heart hammered so loudly I thought they could hear it.
Luca closed the box.
He didn't walk over to me. He didn't drop to one knee. He was too smart, too respectful to overwhelm me in that moment.
Instead, he slipped the velvet box into his suit pocket.
“I think,” Luca said, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips, “I will hold onto this until the time is right.”
Teresa looked at Luca, then looked at me.
Her smile was as bright as the sun.
“I think that is a very wise decision, Luca,” she beamed.
We left the bank and stepped out into the crisp, bright Chicago morning.
The air felt clean. The weight of Vanessa’s manipulations, the fear of the Romano family, the anxiety of the upcoming fake wedding—it was all gone.
As we walked toward the waiting car, Luca fell into step beside me.
“Hannah,” he said quietly.
“Yes, Luca?”
“I need a new executive assistant. Someone who isn't afraid to tell me when I’m wrong. Someone I can trust with my life. And my mother’s.”
I looked up at him.
“Does it pay better than housekeeping?” I joked lightly, though my hands were shaking.
He laughed. A deep, rich sound that made my stomach flutter.
May you like
“It pays significantly better,” he promised. “And you get Sundays off. For family dinner.”
“I accept,” I smiled.
