Chapter 4 - The Council's Shadow
By eight o’clock that evening, the smell of warm almond cake had completely conquered the cold, beeswax odor of the foyer.
I had changed into a simple dark green dress I’d packed in my duffel bag—nothing formal, but neat enough to sit at a table without looking like a runaway. My hair was tied back in a low knot, a few loose strands framing my neck.
When I stepped into the dining room, I realized the house was no longer empty.
Four men sat at the long mahogany table. They were all older than Luca, dressed in conservative dark suits that screamed old money and older power. At the head of the table sat Luca, his suit jacket back on, looking every bit the mob boss my father had warned me about.
The conversation died the second the door opened.
Eight eyes swung toward me—sharp, calculating, evaluating my posture, my shoes, and the slight flush still on my cheeks from the kitchen heat.
"Sophia," Luca said, standing up immediately. The heavy chair scraped against the floor, a sharp, sudden sound that made two of the older men glance up at him in surprise. "Come sit."
He walked to the chair at his right hand—a place reserved for family—and pulled it out for me.
I walked over, keeping my chin up, though every instinct I had was screaming at me to run back to the flour bins. As I sat, Luca pushed the chair in with meticulous care, his fingers hovering half an inch above my shoulders, never actually touching me without permission.
"Signor Moretti," one of the men at the far end spoke up, his voice raspy, like dry leaves scraping over pavement. "Is this the Bennett girl? Her father’s ledger is still open in Milano."
"The ledger is closed, Don Silvano," Luca replied, taking his seat. His voice was low, carrying that effortless weight that made the rest of the room feel small. "The debt was cleared twenty minutes ago when I signed the wire transfer."
Silvano’s eyes narrowed, his gaze drifting over me like cold oil. "You pay for a bride before the priest arrives? Five women have walked out of those iron gates, Luca. The council will not grant you the northern territories if this union fails before the month is out."
I felt a sudden, sharp prickle of anger at the back of my neck. I wasn't a piece of real estate, and despite what Elena had told me, watching these old men treat Luca like a failing business asset made my blood boil.
"He didn't pay for a bride," I said, my voice clear and loud enough to stop Silvano mid-sentence.
The room went dead silent.
Silvano looked at me like a house cat that had suddenly started speaking fluent Italian. "Excuse me?"
"Signor Moretti paid off a debt because he’s a man of his word," I said, setting my linen napkin across my lap with deliberate care. "As for the five women who left—maybe they just didn't like the weather near the lake. Personally, I find the air very clear."
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Luca didn't look at me, but I saw his fingers tighten against the silver rim of his wine glass, the knuckles turning white under the skin.
Silvano let out a dry, rattling laugh. "She has a tongue, Luca. Let’s see if she still has it when she learns why the others ran."
