"Wedding?" His tone was sharp with surprise. "What wedding?"
He moved to peer over my shoulder at my screen, but I'd already tucked the phone against my chest. His hand reached for it—
Then his own phone rang.
The night was still, the kind of quiet that settles over the city after midnight when even the rats know to stay hidden. In that silence, I heard every word from the other end of the line.
A woman's voice, breathless and trembling with practiced fear.
"Luca, I just went downstairs to pick something up, and I think someone's following me! I'm so scared. I've circled the block twice and I still can't shake him!"
Luca's expression transformed instantly—concern flooding his features like water through a cracked dam.
"Celina, don't panic. Find somewhere well-lit. There should be soldiers stationed at the security post near the main gate. Stay there. I'm coming."
He ended the call without another glance in my direction.
The wedding, my phone, whatever secrets I might be keeping—all of it evaporated from his mind like morning frost under the sun.
He left me standing alone in the courtyard and disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps fading toward wherever Celina Vitale waited for her rescue.
I kept my face carefully blank until I could no longer hear him.
Then I called my aunt to say goodbye.
Ten years ago, my parents had relocated to expand the Caruso family's operations in another territory, and I'd been left in Mina's care. She was my father's sister, a woman who understood the weight of blood and the price of loyalty.
Luca Haskins had lived in the compound next door. That was how we'd first crossed paths—two young people from connected households, thrown together by geography and circumstance. When Mina married and sold her villa to move in with her husband, I hadn't wanted to burden her new life. I'd stayed at the Haskins estate as a temporary arrangement.
I never imagined "temporary" would stretch into eight years.
Aunt Mina's voice carried a note of shock when I told her the news. "Married? To Luca? Well, I suppose that's... appropriate. After eight years, it's time to formalize things."
I pressed my lips together and corrected her assumption.
"No. It's an arranged alliance. I don't know the man."
Silence stretched across the line.