Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 11

After my dance with Marco, I wanted nothing more than to disappear into some quiet corner where no one would notice me. My head was spinning, my chest was too tight, and the smile on my face felt like it was carved in place. But before I could slip away, Adrian’s father limped toward me, leaning heavily on his cane.

I pasted on another polite smile as Marco gave me a final squeeze of the hand and slipped back into the crowd.

“Will you give this old man the honor of dancing with the bride?” Mr. De Luca asked, his deep voice carrying both authority and warmth.

I dipped into a small curtsy, lowering my eyes respectfully. “Of course, Mr. De Luca.”

“Ernesto,” he corrected gently with a faint smile tugging at his lips. “We’re family now, Valentina. Call me Ernesto.”

The word family caught me off guard. I nodded quickly, though my throat felt tight, and slipped my hand into his. He passed his cane to a waiting attendant, then placed a surprisingly light hand against my back.

“We’ll have to dance in place, if you don’t mind,” he said with a chuckle that was equal parts self–deprecating and proud.

I shook my head quickly. “That’s perfectly fine,” I assured him, even though my nerves had already knotted my stomach.

We began to sway gently, not really moving across the floor but still keeping with the music. For a man who looked so diminished by age and pain, he held himself with undeniable dignity. I supposed you couldn’t be the father of Adrian De Luca and not be dignified.

“You’re very quiet,” he observed after a moment, studying me with his sharp eyes. “And from what I’ve heard, you’re not usually a quiet girl.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. Who had told him that? Marco? My brother knew me too well, but I doubted he’d share that with Ernesto. It definitely couldn’t be my mother.

I gave a nervous little laugh, unsure what to say.

Ernesto’s smile was faint but knowing, and when he spoke again, his voice had that same uncanny weight that Adrian’s carried- the kind that made you feel as though he already knew what you were thinking. “My son’s reputation precedes him,” he said softly, and my stomach flipped. “It’s a reputation that makes me proud. I’ve always known he would be capable, that he could lead Chicago without faltering. When I’m gone, he’ll be more than able to hold what is his.”

His eyes flicked down to me briefly, then back up again, sharp despite the years clouding them. “But I know that same reputation might unsettle a young bride. Especially one as young as you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Part of me felt like I should deny it and reassure him that I wasn’t unsettled by my husband, because tradition dictated that a good wife- especially a new bride- pretend everything was fine. But saying that would’ve been a lie, and if there was one thing I’d never been good at, it was lying. Much to my mother’s endless frustration, my face always gave me away.

18:44 Thu, Nov 6

Chapter 11

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Ernesto’s hand rested lightly against my back as we swayed. His posture was regal despite the limp, and his expression remained unreadable. “My wife and I raised our son to respect women,” he said after a moment. His voice was calm but heavy with meaning. “And from what I know, he does.”

I forced a small smile, though the words did little to soothe me.

Respect.

That wasn’t what I’d heard from people. The rumors painted Adrian as a ruthless man, the kind of man who could tear a room apart with his bare hands if he lost his temper. Bets had been placed on whether he’d killed his wife in cold blood. Marco’s warnings still echoed in my head, confirming what I already feared. Adrian didn’t look like someone who snapped uncontrollably, but he had earned his reputation as one of the most merciless men in our world for a reason.

“Thank you for telling me,” I managed, because politeness demanded I say something. Inside, though, I didn’t feel reassured. If anything, I felt the opposite, more keenly aware of the walls closing in on me.

The music slowed and finally drifted to an end. Ernesto released me with care, steadying himself as he took back his cane. To our left, I caught sight of Damien, standing with his latest dance partner. I hesitated, assuming as best man, and as Adrian’s adviser, he’d step forward next.

But when my eyes met his, Damien gave a little shake of his head. His lips curled into an apologetic smile. “If I ever get tired of living, I’ll ask for that dance,” he said lightly, already turning to another woman.

I froze, utterly flabbergasted, staring after him as though I’d misheard. My mouth parted, but no words came.

Beside me, Ernesto chuckled at my expression. “Don’t mind him. Come, let’s head back to the table,” he said, tilting his head toward where the rest of the family waited.

“What was that about?” I asked, keeping my voice low as I trailed behind him. He moved carefully, tapping his cane with every step, while Adrian sat at the table with Rico, leaning close as though they were discussing a deal instead of celebrating a wedding.

Ernesto didn’t pause. “My son is… territorial. You may dance with family, of course, but I’d advise you to refrain from seeking the company of other men. I’d hate for there to be conflict at your own wedding.”

I waited for the punchline, a hint of humor that would make the warning less sharp. But he didn’t laugh. His tone was direct and serious, the kind that left no space

for

argument.

I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I stopped walking, and so did he, turning his gray eyes on me. “I think I’ll freshen up,” I murmured.

His knowing look made my skin prickle. He could see through me. I wasn’t going to touch up lipstick, I was going to flee. Still, he inclined his head with quiet dignity.

I forced a smile, spun on my heel, and hurried away.

My shoes clicked over marble as I rushed past the restrooms. My chest was tight, until I found myself in a deserted hallway. The silence felt like a gift. I leaned back against the cold wall, and then slowly slid down until I was sitting on the polished floor. My dress pooled around me in layers of ivory satin, ballooning into a perfect bubble that looked far too bridal for how I felt.

It wasn’t dignified. If someone found me like this, Mom would never forgive me- her perfect daughter, crumpled in a hallway like a child hiding from the world. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not tonight. Not when this was my life now, whether I wanted it or not.

I lost track of time sitting there, numb. My thoughts were looping through the same impossible choices. Then footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor, drawing closer. My heart jumped. But with the weight of my gown pressing down on me, I couldn’t scramble up quickly even if I wanted to. So I stayed where I was.

The figure turned the corner, and relief flooded me when I saw that it was Gemma. She moved toward me without hesitation, her expression soft with concern. To my surprise, she didn’t stand over me or make me get up. Instead, she lowered herself carefully to the ground beside me, her elegant dress spreading around her, and her hands braced on her rounded belly.

“My brother is a difficult man, Valentina,” she said gently, her voice carrying the weight of experience. “I won’t lie.”

A laugh slipped out of me, quiet and brittle. Difficult. That word sounded almost laughable in comparison to what really haunted me. I could deal with difficult. It was the qualities beyond that- the ruthlessness, the cruelty, the possibility that the rumors were true- that kept my pulse racing in fear.

Chapter 12