Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 8

ADRIAN

“Hey, I got this for you,” Damien said, handing me a flask.

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1 tugged my tie into place, feeling the knot tighten against my throat like a noose, before accepting the flask he offered. “I won’t be drinking hard liquor today.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “It’s not for drinking. It’s for bashing yourself over the head if you get another bright idea about refusing the bloody sheet tradition.”

I shoved the flask deep into the inner pocket of my jacket, suddenly feeling agitated. “Don’t start this again.”

Damien’s glare was hard and unflinching. “I’ll start it as many times as it takes. Just swear you won’t try any of that faking blood stains bullshit. You know Rico wasn’t offering you a way out right? He was baiting you. He wanted to see if you’d fall for it. Trust me, he took his on their wedding night. She cried, she whined about the pain, but he still had her. That’s the kind of man he is. And that’s the kind of man he expects you to be.”

Heat surged in my veins, and before I realized what I was doing, my hand was at Damien’s throat and my fingers were digging into his skin. “We’re friends,” I grounded out in a low voice. “but don’t forget I’m also your boss. Watch your tongue when you speak to me.”

His breath hitched, I saw his eyes watering, but he didn’t back down. He croaked out between clenched teeth, “I’m trying to keep you alive, Adrian. Valentina is a legal adult now. That’s all anyone cares about. Nobody’s asking whether she looks the part, or if she’s ready. The only thing that matters is that you fuck her and prove you’re the man Rico wants you to be.”

For a second, my grip tightened around his neck Then I forced myself to let go, shoving him back. “I’ll take her to bed,” I bit out. “So stop riding me about it.”

I hadn’t laid eyes on Valentina since our awkward meeting three months ago. But I could still picture her clearly: the soft, unlined face, and the wide, startled eyes, the way her youth clung to her like a second skin. She’d looked like a girl then, far younger than I preferred, and I doubted a handful of months had changed much. The thought sat like lead in my gut. All I could hope was that her mother had followed my orders and layered her in enough makeup and elegant clothing to mask the truth of her age.

Damien, of course, grinned like a wolf, shaking off my warning as if my hand hadn’t just been around his throat. “Then do me a favor,” he said, voice low and mocking. “Enjoy it. Tonight you’ll have a young, tight body wrapped around your cock. Try not to act like it’s a punishment.”

The smirk stayed plastered on his face as he headed for the door. I took a step forward, clenching my fists. I was tempted to drag him back and remind him again of the line between friend and subordinate. But the door clicked shut before I could move, leaving the sting of his words echoing in the silence.

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VALENTINA

Adrian was waiting at the front of the church when I arrived. Damien was by his side, and across from them was one of my friends. Adrian shot her a look, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was probably

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Chapter 8

judging everything about her too.

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When the music started, his eyes locked on mine as Dad led me forward. I was dressed in an elegant long white dress, and the lace long sleeves clung to my arm and were almost suffocating me. My hair had been tugged and pinned until it sat in a smooth twist at the back of my head, with only my bangs left to frame my face. I had begged mom to let me leave some softness, something of myself.

My mother had insisted on diamonds. I had chosen to have tiny flowers woven carefully into my updo and picked colorful ones for the bouquet in my hands. It was my own quiet act of rebellion.

I smiled because I had to, because I knew everyone was watching, but I couldn’t hide the stiffness in my shoulders or the way my palm sweated against my father’s arm. I wondered if Adrian noticed, and then I realized of course he did. He noticed everything.

When we reached the altar, my father’s grip tightened briefly on my hand before he let go, passing me to Adrian. For a heartbeat, I felt like an object being transferred from one owner to the next. My fingers slid into Adrian’s, cold and clammy. He barely moved, but the firmness of his hold reminded me how much stronger he was… how much older he was.

I forced my chin up. I wouldn’t bow my head, not today. Everyone already thought I was a child. I wouldn’t let them see me cower. And yet, Adrian’s closeness, the sheer gravity of him beside me, sent shivers through my body.

The vows blurred together in a haze. My lips formed the words, “I do,” with a conviction that didn’t belong to me. My voice came out steady, though inside I was unraveling. I told myself this was just a duty, nothing more. Still, when Adrian’s gaze held mine, I couldn’t shake the thought that he was searching for something in me, something I wasn’t sure I possessed.

When it came time for the rings, my hands shook as I slid his onto his finger. His hand was warm and solid and strong. When he returned the gesture, his touch lingered a fraction too long. I didn’t know if it was intentional, but it unsettled me.

Then the priest spoke the words I had been dreading: “You may kiss the bride.”

I froze. My eyes widened slightly before I could stop myself. Had I really thought we’d skip this part? How foolish. Every eye in the church was fixed on us… our families, our enemies, and our Don.

Adrian’s hand slid to the back of my head with a kind of expertise that I certainly didn’t possess. My pulse quickened. I couldn’t move or even dare breathe, until my lashes fluttered shut of their own accord. His lips pressed firmly against mine.

I’d expected the kiss to be rough and demanding, but to my surprise, it was nothing like that.

Adrian De Luca was kissing me with a gentleness that was rarely associated with a man like him.

And in that moment, something inside me shifted. I had expected to feel nothing but dread and revulsion the entire day. Instead, his mouth on mine awakened something else, something primal and frightening in my

chest… Desire.

It was a dangerous spark, one that came with shame.

When he pulled back, my cheeks were burning. My eyes met his again, and without meaning to, I smiled. It

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Chapter 8

was a small, nervous smile that I immediately wished I could take back.

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His expression gave nothing away. He looked past me, already guiding me back down the aisle with a hand at my back that felt strong but impersonal.

The congratulations began as soon as we stepped out of the church doors. People lined up to touch my arm, to offer smiles, to speak words I couldn’t process. It was all noise, a blur of faces and lips moving.

I was immediately separated from him and pulled away by a group of older women. But out of the corner of my eye, I could still see Adrian, and hear everything he was saying.

Damien was the first to approach him. He clasped his shoulder with a grin that looked almost teasing. His voice was low, but I still caught the words when he spoke. “How was the first taste of your young wife?”

I froze. The rosy tint on my cheeks immediately deepened. It was one thing to have my first kiss in front of the entire Chicago Mafia, but hearing Adrian discuss the details with someone else would be more than humiliating.

Adrian’s jaw tightened, and to my surprise, he didn’t answer, only scowled, but Damien didn’t need a reply. His amusement radiated off him. Then he turned his attention to me, bowing slightly with exaggerated politeness.

I smiled back automatically. It felt too wide and too honest. I regretted it the second I did it. But what else was I supposed to do? Pretend I was indifferent? Snarl? That wasn’t me.

As if on cue, one of the women touched my arm. “You can’t be so nice, honey.”

“Huh?” I asked before her words even completely registered.

“You can’t smile at other men like that,” she explained, and the others nodded. “You need to be more like Serena… God rest her soul. To be married to a man as powerful as Adrian means that you have to practice restraint. You must always be strong and poised and cunning… the perfect trophy wife. That’s what it means to be the wife of an underboss.”

Hearing them talk about Adrian’s dead wife made me a tad uncomfortable, but something else overpowered the feeling.

Trophy wife.

I didn’t want to be anyone’s trophy wife. I wanted to be an equal partner. I wanted to be loved and heard and respected, not just a fancy ornament on an underboss‘ arm.

I was nothing like Serena De Luca. I wasn’t polished, I wasn’t poised, I wasn’t good at hiding what I felt.

And Adrian knew it.

His gaze flicked to the flowers woven in my hair. A dark look passed over his face. His eyes traveled lower, catching on the small flower earrings dangling from my ears before he started walking toward me.

A prickle of unease ran down my spine.

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Chapter 8

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said to the women who immediately scampered away.

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He bent his head slightly, and lowered his voice so only I could hear him. “Why didn’t you wear the diamond earrings I sent you?”

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