Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 10

By the time dinner ended, I was wound so tightly I thought I might throw up. When Adrian rose and offered his hand for the first dance, my body moved on instinct, but inside, I was hollow. The eyes of the guests followed us as he led me to the center of the ballroom. A hundred faces, all waiting to see how the new bride and groom would perform.

My smile was in place, fake and perfect like my mother had drilled into me since I was a child. Smile, no matter what. Smile, even if your world is collapsing.

Adrian’s hand settled firmly on my waist, guiding me with effortless control across the floor. He was taller, broader, and more powerful than me in every possible way, and the difference showed even in the dance. If we’d been a real couple, maybe I could have relaxed, leaned into him, and let my cheek rest against his chest. But we weren’t. We were strangers bound by vows, moving in unison for the benefit of everyone else.

“Why are you trembling?” Adrian’s voice rumbled low, startling me out of my thoughts.

I lifted my gaze to his face, searching his emotionless eyes. Did he truly not know? Or did he just not care? My lips curved in the same brittle smile, but my voice was laced with sharpness I couldn’t quite hold back. “Why don’t you order me to stop? Maybe my body would obey your command.”

His expression darkened, and his jaw tightening. “Choose your words more carefully in public,” he said, each syllable edged with steel. “I am your husband. You will respect me.”

My eyes dropped to his chest, where his crisp white shirt stretched perfectly across muscle, refusing to meet his stare. Still, the smile stayed frozen on my face because it had to.

As the song ended, Adrian bent his head until his mouth brushed my ear. His grip tightened on me like a warning. “Understood?”

The word tasted like ash on my tongue. “Understood, sir.”

For a second, his hold lingered, as if he wanted to add something else. But then my father appeared, stepping in for his turn to dance with me, and Adrian released me without another word.

Dad’s arms wrapped around me, gentler and familiar. His lips brushed my temple as we moved together. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he murmured. He asked it more than once, his worry written all over his face.

But I didn’t answer. What could I say? There was nothing he could do, and if I was honest with myself, there was nothing he would do.

When Mom’s turn came, she practically glowed. Her chattering about Adrian was nonstop. Her voice was animated, and her smile radiant. She looked up at him with such delight, you’d think she was the one who had just married him.

“It’s my turn,” Marco said, appearing at my side.

Relief coursed through me as he took my hand. My smile, stiff and strained all evening, finally softened a little for the first time. He gave me a quick, almost reluctant smile of his own as we began to move.

Marco was like my brother in so many ways. I’d known him since I was just five. We’d been neighbors all our

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lives, and when his family tragically died in a fire one night, my parents decided to legally take him in. We practically grew up together.

I hadn’t seen much of him these last few years. He’d moved out when he was barely eighteen, determined not to spend his youth waiting around to inherit Dad’s position in Illinois. Most sons in our world fell into line, working under their fathers until it was their turn to take over. Not Marco. He’d gone straight to the De Lucas, eager to prove himself without Dad’s shadow over him.

“It’s so good to see you,” I murmured, hugging him tighter as we turned. For a moment, I let myself pretend we were just brother and sister at someone else’s wedding, sharing a dance and nothing more.

His answer was clipped. “It is.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten. “You don’t look very happy that I’ll be living in the same city as you.”

Marco’s jaw clenched. “Not at this price.”

I swallowed. “You mean me being married to Adrian.”

He gave the room a quick scan, his eyes automatically finding Adrian. My new husband was across the floor, dancing with his sister. His face was as composed and unreadable as always. Marco leaned in and lowered his voice. “He’s not the right man for you.”

“Because he’s too old?” I asked, almost hoping that was all.

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. “That’s only a small part of it.”

I hesitated, then forced the question that had haunted me for months. “Do you know what really happened to Serena?”

I hadn’t dared ask before. Certainly not over the phone, where anyone could be listening. The FBI, rivals, even our own people. But now, with Marco’s hand firm on my waist and the music drowning out our words, it felt like the only chance I’d get.

His mouth tightened. “Only Rico, Adrian’s father Ernest, and Adrian know the truth.” He hesitated, as if even admitting that much was dangerous.

“And?” My voice was barely audible.

“The clean up crew. Both of them died not long after, in a car accident.”

For a second, the world tumbled. My vision tunneled and the chandeliers above blurred. I clutched at Marco’s arm. “No… Dad told me Adrian had nothing to do with her death.”

Marco’s expression darkened, and anger flared hot in his eyes. “Dad needs Adrian. That’s the truth. He’s a weak boss, Valentina. Everyone knows it. It’s only a matter of time before someone tries to push him out. But with Adrian tied to the family, especially by marriage, people will hesitate.”

My heart dropped. I suddenly felt like I was standing on quicksand.

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“If I were already in power,” Marco went on in a low and fierce voice, “I never would have agreed to give you to him. I’d have kept control of our men myself.”

His words sent a chill through me. Power, politics, and alliances- it was all a game of survival, and I had been moved across the board without a say. I was just a pawn, dressed in lace and flowers, handed over to a man I didn’t trust.

And there was no undoing it.

“You’ve worked under Adrian these past few years,” I pressed, my voice tight. “Tell me the truth. Is he really that bad?”

Marco’s eyes softened, and a flicker of regret passed through them. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I tightened my grip on his arm. My desperation was evident in the way I whispered. “Don’t shut me out. Please. I need to know. I need to prepare myself.” Even as I said the words, I knew how ridiculous it sounded. How could anyone prepare for a man like Adrian De Luca?

Marco exhaled slowly, and his expression hardened into something grim. “He’s… effective. He’s brutal when he needs to be. He doesn’t tolerate disobedience, not from his men, not from anyone. And because of that, he has them under control in a way few Underbosses ever manage. People respect him, they fear him, too. He’s the best the Brotherhood has right now. That’s why Rico values him so much.” He shook his head. “I should talk to him. Maybe I can-”

“No.” Panic shot through me, and I clutched his arm harder. “Don’t. Please. If everything you’re saying is true, he won’t allow you to get involved. He’ll see it as interference.” My throat tightened as I looked at my brother, the one person who had always felt like a safe home to me. “Marco, you’re brave, and you’ll make a great Underboss one day. But risking your life for me? I won’t let that happen.”

His eyes softened just slightly, but his mouth stayed hard.

“Promise me,” I begged. “Swear you won’t say anything to him.”

“I want to help you,” he said.

“Then help me by telling me how to survive this. Tell me what I should do to make this marriage work.”

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. “How the hell would I know?”

The music swelled around us as our dance came to its end, but the weight of his words was heavier than anything. He released me, though his face was filled with hurt, and just before he stepped back, he muttered the only advice he could give.

“Obey him, Valentina.”

Everything shattered.

Obey.

As if I were a child, a servant, or a possession. Maybe that was what I was now.

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Despair pressed down on my chest until I could barely breathe. Only a few months ago, my biggest worries had been whether I could fit in a top I wanted to wear to college or if I’d have time to finish a painting. Normal things. Small things. But that version of me was gone. Now, on my wedding night, I was being told the only way to survive was to please a man who might have murdered his wife, and probably the men who had cleaned up the scene afterward.

I had neve

felt further from the life I thought I’d have.