PART 1: FATHER'S ORDERS
Leona is called into Don De Luca's study and told she's to marry Lucien Romano to end the brewing war. She thinks it's a joke until she sees the contract already signed.
The oak double doors loomed like a guillotine. Two guards flanked them, stiff-backed, eyes forward. Leona De Luca stood between them in silence, arms crossed, jaw tight. Her heels tapped once on the marble floor, a single note of impatience, before the doors groaned open.
Her father didn't look up when she stepped inside.
The study reeked of cigar smoke and old books. Oil portraits lined the deep green walls—ancestors staring down with cold, patrician disapproval. Don Emilio De Luca sat behind the massive desk carved from black walnut, fingers steepled, silver cufflinks glinting. His voice was calm.
"Sit."
Leona didn't move. "If this is about the docks again, I told Matteo not to.. "
"It's not about Matteo." He gestured at the chair across from him. "Sit, Leona."
She narrowed her eyes, then sank into the leather seat, legs crossed, spine straight. "Alright. What's this about, then?"
Her father exhaled slowly through his nose. "You're getting married."
She blinked. Then smiled faintly. "Funny. Try again."
"This isn't a joke."
The smile faded. "To who?"
Don De Luca leaned back, voice like stone. "Lucien Romano."
The name hit like a slap. Leona's fingers curled over the armrest. "Lucien Romano? The Romano Romano?"
"Yes."
"The one whose men ambushed three of ours last month? The one they call the Devil's Son? That Lucien?"
"The very one."
She laughed once, sharp and incredulous. "You want me to marry a psychopath to what? Seal a truce? Cement our alliance like it's the goddamn twelfth century?"
He didn't blink. "Yes."
Leona stood. "No."
"You don't have a choice."
"You think I'll just what put on a white dress and hand myself over like a shipment of wine?"
"You will," he said. "Because this is not about you. This is about ending bloodshed."
She stared at him, furious. "And you decided this without me?"
Her father reached into a drawer and pulled out a folded document. He placed it on the desk and opened it with slow, precise hands.
At the top, in bold ink: Marriage Contract.
Two signatures already marked the bottom. Hers was missing.
Leona's mouth went dry. "You already signed it."
Don De Luca's gaze was iron. "Lucien signed yesterday. I signed this morning. The only thing left is yours."
"You sold me," she whispered. "Like cattle."
His tone didn't change. "Like a De Luca. Like my daughter. And you'll do it because your brothers are not dying in a street war over ego. Not while I can still command peace."
"I'd rather die than marry that snake."
"Then I'll bury you in white."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Her father leaned forward, voice low, final. "You marry him, or your brothers start digging their own graves."
Leona said nothing. She stared down at the contract.
And hated every drop of blood in her veins that tied her to this name.
PART 2: FIGHT OR OBEY
Leona argues, rages, even threatens to run. Her father slaps her. He says her refusal means war and death for her brothers.
-
Leona's fingers trembled as they hovered above the contract. She didn't touch it. Didn't dare.
"Do you realize what you're doing?" she said, voice brittle. "Lucien Romano isn't a man—he's a threat with a pulse. People disappear around him. Even his own brother vanished, and nobody asks why."
Don De Luca's tone was flat. "We don't ask about family business."
"I'm family, and you're selling me to a devil with a knife fetish!"
"Enough." His voice cracked like a whip.
But Leona didn't flinch. "I won't do it."
"You will."
"No."
He stood. Slowly. Deliberately. "If you walk out that door if you even try to run Romano will take it as an insult. You think I'm hard on you? He'll tear this peace to pieces. He'll make examples."
"Let him," she snapped. "Let him see what happens when someone tries to put a leash on me."
"You think this is a game?" he barked, crossing the desk in a few steps. "You think your stubborn mouth is worth Matteo's life? Nico's?"
"You're bluffing."
He struck her.
It wasn't hard. Not enough to bruise. But enough to freeze her blood.
They stared at each other, both stunned by the silence that followed. Her cheek stung. His hand shook.
When he finally spoke, it wasn't anger that leaked through, it was something colder.
"You will wear the dress. You will sit beside him. You will smile. And when he puts a ring on your finger, you will not tremble. Because the only thing more dangerous than Lucien Romano is the war he will bring if you humiliate him."
Her voice broke. "I'm not ready for this."
"You're a De Luca. We were never raised for softness."
She looked at him, really looked, and saw a man who had already buried pieces of himself for this life. And was now burying her.
Leona turned away, chest rising and falling too fast.
"If you want me to be a bride," she said, "then don't expect a good one."
He didn't answer. Didn't need to.
She already knew the answer. The second Lucien signed that contract, she stopped being his daughter.
She became a transaction.
PART 3:DRESSING THE SACRIFICE
Her mother forces her into a formal dress for the engagement dinner that night. Leona watches herself in the mirror prettied up like a lamb for slaughter.
The bedroom door opened without a knock.
Elena De Luca entered like a shadow, graceful, restrained, the perfect mafia wife. In her hands, draped over one arm like a fallen angel, was a silver dress.
Leona sat at the edge of her bed, still in jeans and a black tank top, her face blank.
"You're late," Leona muttered.
Her mother laid the dress on the bed beside her. "He'll be expecting you by eight. The car is waiting."
Leona didn't look at the fabric. "Is it silk or chainmail?"
Elena didn't smile. "Both."
Silence stretched.
Leona finally asked, "Do you ever regret it?"
Her mother paused, brushing a wrinkle from the fabric. "Regret what?"
"Giving up who you were. Becoming a wife, a pawn, a symbol."
Elena smoothed the hem with sharp fingers. "We don't get to ask those questions. Not in this family."
Leona stood. "Well, maybe I want different answers."
Her mother met her gaze, expression unreadable. "Wanting something doesn't make it real. Put it on."
Leona stared at the dress. It shimmered like water and looked expensive enough to insult a small country.
In the end, she stripped and slipped into it without another word.
The bodice hugged her like a threat, tight, restrictive, designed to silence breath. The slit at her thigh was a promise no one had asked her permission to give.
When Elena fastened the clasp at her neck, Leona didn't flinch.
Her mother stepped back. "Look at yourself."
Leona turned toward the full-length mirror.
A stranger stared back.
Hair pinned in elegant waves. Makeup flawless. Silver against pale skin. Dangerous. Beautiful. Silent.
A perfect future Mrs. Romano.
"I look like a weapon," she whispered.
Her mother's voice was quiet. "That's the point."
The door opened again. A guard entered. "It's time."
Leona walked past him without a word.
Every step echoed like a countdown.
PART 4: DEVIL AT THE TABLE
At the Romano estate, Lucien enters the dining hall late. He's unreadable. Leona tries to provoke him. He barely looks at her.
The Romano estate rose out of the hills like a beast in slumber black marble, iron gates, tall windows with secrets behind every one. The De Luca car stopped at the entrance. A valet opened Leona's door before the engine cut.
She stepped out like a queen. Or a prisoner.
Inside, the air was cold and over-perfumed. Men in tailored suits nodded. Women in heels and diamonds whispered. Everyone here knew why she was present, and no one said a word about it.
A maid led her through velvet halls and into the dining room.
The table was long enough to seat twenty, but only three people sat at it now: Don Salvatore Romano, Lucien's father with a face carved from bitter marble, a man Leona didn't recognize, and an empty seat at the far end.
Her chair.
She sat without waiting to be told. Lifted her water glass. Didn't sip.
No one spoke.
The door opened five minutes later, and the room shifted.
Lucien Romano didn't walk, he prowled. Tall, black suit perfectly fitted, no tie, top buttons undone like even the fabric knew better than to challenge him. His eyes were unreadable, the color of thunderclouds before a storm. He moved like he owned the ground beneath every step.
He didn't acknowledge her as he passed. He didn't smile.
He sat opposite her, rested one arm across the back of his chair, and glanced at the wine.
Leona tilted her head. "You're late."
Lucien's eyes flicked to hers. "I'm always late. It's tradition."
"For insulting your guests?"
He finally looked at her. Really looked. And in that one heartbeat, she felt seen and dissected.
"I didn't ask for a guest," he said.
The words were a blade wrapped in silk.
Don Romano cleared his throat. "Shall we eat?"
Dinner was served. Leona barely tasted the food. Her gaze kept drifting back to Lucien how calm he was. How calculated. He said nothing unless directly spoken to, and even then, his answers were clipped, efficient, devoid of warmth.
The devil didn't need to raise his voice to be feared. He just had to sit still.
Leona stabbed a piece of lamb and said sweetly, "You don't talk much, fiancé."
Lucien didn't look up. "You talk enough for both of us."
The man next to Don Romano choked on his drink. No one else laughed.
She smiled tightly. "So this is how it'll be, then? Me playing wife while you play ghost?"
Lucien finally lifted his glass and met her eyes. "No. You'll play whatever role I give you. The question is whether you do it with style or scars."
Silence fell again.
Leona's fork clinked against her plate. "How charming."
Lucien drank. "I'm not here to charm you. I'm here to make sure you don't get us all killed."
The room felt colder after that.
And yet, somehow, she couldn't look away from him.
PART 5: THE WARNING
After dinner, Lucien corners her alone in the hallway. He doesn't touch her. Doesn't flatter her. Just gives her a quiet, dangerous warning about what life will be like as his wife.
The moment dessert was served, Lucien stood.
He didn't announce it. Didn't wait for the meal to end. He simply pushed his chair back, nodded once to his father, and walked out.
Two minutes later, Leona rose too. Her mother gave her a look, subtle and sharp. Follow him.
She did.
The hall outside was dim and endless. Marble floors reflected low chandeliers. Guards lined the corridors like statues. Leona moved fast, silver dress whispering as she walked.
She found him by the arched window overlooking the garden, sleeves rolled, cigarette burning between two fingers.
"Romantic," she said. "Are we starting the honeymoon early?"
Lucien didn't turn.
"You don't listen," he said.
"Oh, I listen," she replied, stepping closer. "I just prefer not to obey."
He exhaled smoke. The cherry at the end of the cigarette glowed like a warning light. "That'll get you hurt in this family."
"I'm used to pain."
He turned then. Slowly. His gaze was sharp but unhurried, like a blade being drawn just to make a point.
"I don't care what you're used to," he said, voice low. "You're in my world now. My name. My house. My rules."
"And if I break them?"
Lucien stepped closer. No contact. Just presence. Close enough for her to feel the chill behind his heat.
"Then you'll find out what happens to people who think a wedding band makes them untouchable."
Leona stared back, unflinching. "Is that a threat?"
"No." His lips curved barely. "That's a forecast."
They stood in silence, tension crackling like live wires. His scent smoke, citrus, steel invaded her space.
Then, in a whisper only she could hear:
"You play games, I bury bodies. Choose carefully, Mrs. Romano."
He stepped away, turning down the corridor, vanishing like smoke.
Leona didn't breathe until he was gone.
She wasn't sure if it was fear in her chest.
Or something worse.