Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 33

Father had asked me for a meeting, so I headed to my parents house after checking on my newest drug lab and one of my underground casinos.

1 had a feeling I knew exactly what the meeting would be about.

Valentina

I sent Elia a text before I got out of the car, and he called me shortly after.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“She’s a little insecure around me,” he admitted into the phone. “She can tell something’s off, but I don’t think she knows what to make of me yet. Still… she’s good with the kids. And even the damn dog.”

I paused. “She is?”

“She’s very patient. Just… really lovely.”

Lovely. That word again. Everyone seemed to use it when talking about my wife, and I couldn’t even argue. She was lovely- inside and out. Too lovely for me, maybe.

“Hmm. Don’t come on too strong,” I warned. “You’ll only make her suspicious.”

“All right, Boss.”

I ended the call and stepped out of the car. The evening air was cool, heavy with the familiar smell of the gardens around my parents‘ house. Before I even reached the doorbell, the front door swung open.

My mother stood there, lips curved in a knowing smile.

I arched a brow. “Were you watching me from the window?”

She lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug. “I was just curious what you were doing sitting out there for so long.”

“Working, Mother. I’m always working.”

“Even right after marrying that girl? You should be spending time with her.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “Her name is Valentina. And stop calling her ‘that girl. It makes me sound really old.”

Her eyes twinkled, pleased she’d gotten a rise out of me. Still, she touched my cheek tenderly. “You’re not

old.”

I sidestepped my mother’s attempt to fuss with my collar. “Where’s Father?”

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Chapter 33

“In the cigar lounge, of course.” Her voice carried that familiar note of irritation. “He won’t listen to me Can’t you talk to him about giving up that dreadful habit? After three heart attacks, you’d think he’d have learned. The smoking only makes it worse.”

Father won’t listen to me any more than he listens to you,” I said flatly.

The heavy scent of Cuban cigars hit me the moment I opened the door to the lounge. It was thick in the air, sweet and cloying. Father sat in his favorite armchair before the fireplace with a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigar smoldering in the other. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes took in everything the moment I stepped inside.

“Adrian,” he greeted warmly, his lined face folding into a smile. “Good to see you, son. Sit down.”

I lowered myself into the armchair beside his, waving away the cigar he offered. “You know I’ve never cared for them.”

“More for me, then.” He chuckled and drew in a slow puff.

I leaned back, fixing him with a knowing look. “All right. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

His brows lifted in mild amusement. “Straight to business, as always. Tell me how are things at home with Valentina?”

I gave him an exasperated look. “Is that why you called me here? For marriage counseling?”

Father leaned forward, carefully setting his cigar down in the ashtray. The lines of his face deepened as he fixed me with that piercing look of his. “Our men admire you, Adrian. They fear you too. Some even resent you, though they’ll never admit it to your face. If this marriage ends as tragically as the last, admiration won’t be enough. Fear and hate will take over- and that balance is dangerous.”

I pushed up from my chair, but before I could turn away, Father laid a wrinkled hand on my arm. His grip was light, but firm. “Stay. I’m an old man, son. I’ve earned the right to speak the truth to you, whether you like it or not.”

I met his eyes. “It’s the truth as you see it, Father. Nothing more.”

He didn’t argue. He just waited, letting the silence press between us the way it always had when I was a boy and he wanted me to confess something.

I exhaled slowly, giving in, and lowered myself back into the chair. Leaning back, I crossed one ankle over my knee. “Things are as good as they can be. Valentina is young, the circumstances are… less than ideal. I’m doing what I can. Right now, it’s just damage control.”

“Damage control,” he repeated, scoffing as if the words tasted bitter. “Marriage isn’t a business deal, Adrian. It’s not a ledger you can balance or a problem you can manage into submission. Marriage is built on emotion. Expect the worst, and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

I shook my head, pressing my lips in a hard line. “If you expect the worst, you’re ready when it comes. You don’t get blindsided. I won’t make that mistake again. Not ever.”

His gaze softened slightly. “Maybe you should consider giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s not Serena, Adrian. She’s nothing like her. She’s a lovely girl- and if you don’t let her, she’ll never have the chance to

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Chapter 33

show you that.”

“I don’t know what kind of woman Valentina is.”

Father’s brows lifted. “And whose fault is that?”

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My jaw tightened. I shook my head slowly. “Is this conversation meant to serve any purpose other than criticizing how I manage my marriage?”

“I’m worried about you, Adrian,” Father said quietly, and for a moment his age showed in every crease of his face. His eyes held sorrow, not reproach. “You are everything I ever hoped for in a son. You are strong, you are just, you never shy away from the hard decisions. I never once doubted you had the strength to rule Chicago.”

A bitter edge slipped into my voice. “But now you do?”

His shoulders sagged, and though his skin was pale beneath the firelight, he still reached for his cigar as if it gave him strength. “Even the grandest temple will collapse if it rests on a single pillar. A man needs more than power and work to hold him upright. You need balance, Adrian.”

I stared into the flames of the fireplace, their restless crackle filling the silence. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Work is the only constant in my life right now.” The moment I admitted it, I regretted the weakness in my voice.

Father leaned forward, his hand briefly pressing against my leg in a rare, almost tender gesture. “Then change it, son. Don’t let the walls close in on you before you even realize they’re crumbling.”

I glanced at my watch. “I need to go now. I’m meeting Marco to discuss his findings about that new chapter of the Motorcycle Club. They’re popping up like weeds and disrupting the city.”

I stood and this time, Father didn’t try to stop me.

Mother followed me to the door, trying to convince me to stay for lunch, but I wasn’t in the mood for their meddling anymore. I kissed her cheek then hurried to my car.

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Chapter 34