Chapter 10 - THE BLOODLINE REQUIREMENT
Six weeks later.
The Chicago winter had set in, covering the Moretti estate in a blanket of pristine white snow.
The carriage house had been cleared away, the ashes replaced by a beautiful memorial garden for Luca’s parents. The massive wedding portrait, which had survived the ordeal, now hung proudly above the fireplace in our shared living room.
Toby was thriving, attending an elite private school, completely unaware of the dark reality we had narrowly escaped.
I sat by the fire, drinking tea, my shoulder finally fully healed.
But the peace was fragile.
Luca walked into the living room. He wore his tailored suits again, but the lines of stress around his eyes had returned over the past few days.
"They called another meeting," Luca said, pouring a glass of scotch and staring into the flames.
"The Commission?" I asked, my stomach tightening.
He nodded. "Falcone. They accept me as the Don. They accept that Vanessa was a traitor. But they have a new demand to maintain the fragile peace."
He turned to look at me, his dark eyes filled with torment.
"They require a blood-oath marriage. They want me to marry Falcone’s eldest daughter to merge the territories and prevent the Bellini remnants from starting a civil war."
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Over the past six weeks, Luca and I had grown incredibly close. The shared trauma had forged a bond that neither of us had explicitly named, but we both felt it in every look, every touch. He had become a father figure to Toby, and the only man I had ever truly trusted.
"You have to do it," I forced myself to say, though the words tasted like ash. "It's your duty to the family. To keep the city safe."
Luca set his glass down so hard the crystal nearly shattered.
"My duty is to the people I love," he growled, closing the distance between us in three long strides.
He pulled me into his arms, kissing me with a fierce, desperate passion that took my breath away. It was everything I had been craving since the night he carried me out of the fire.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine.
"I am not marrying a Mafia princess, Claire. I am marrying you. Or I am walking away from the empire entirely."
"Luca, you can't walk away," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. "They won't let you just retire. They'll kill you."
"Let them try."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brand-new photograph.
It was a picture of the three of us—Luca, me, and Toby—building a snowman in the courtyard last week. We looked like a normal, happy family.
"This is my empire now," he said, pressing the photo into my palm.
Before I could argue, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion groaned open.
May you like
Daniel rushed into the living room, looking paler than I had ever seen him.
"Boss," Daniel breathed heavily. "Falcone is here. And he didn't come alone. He brought the entire Commission to your doorstep."
