“Take that disgusting thing off my table.”

The grand ballroom of the Moretti estate had not seen this many high-ranking syndicate bosses in over a decade. The crystal chandeliers overhead cast a brilliant, blinding light across the polished marble floor, reflecting off the expensive tuxedos of visiting capos and the sleek, dark suits of Luca’s elite security detail. I stood at the top of the sweeping double staircase, wearing a sleek, floor-length midnight-blue evening gown that Luca had personally selected for me. Every eye in the room turned upward as I descended the stairs, my hand resting securely in the crook of Luca’s arm. The murmurs and whispers of the old-guard mobsters from New York died down instantly, replaced by a tense, suffocating silence.

At the center of the room stood Don Salvatore Rossi, the aging, silver-haired patriarch of the New York Commission, flanked by two towering bodyguards who looked like they had been carved out of granite. Rossi’s cold, calculating eyes swept over me with undisguised disdain before locking onto Luca.

"Luca, my boy," Rossi said, his voice smooth and dripping with false warmth as he raised a glass of amber whiskey. "We expected a business meeting tonight, not a royal court. Who is this young lady? I hear whispers that your kitchen staff has undergone a rather... dramatic promotion."

The air in the room grew so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Several of Luca’s capos shifted their weight, their hands instinctively dropping toward the concealed weapons beneath their jackets.

Luca didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me infinitesimally closer so that our bodies formed a single, unbroken wall against Rossi’s condescending gaze. "Emma Carter is my executive partner, Salvatore," Luca said, his voice ringing out crystal clear across the silent ballroom. "And unlike the mercenaries you brought with you from New York, she stood by my side when this house was burning. If you have something to say about my household, you can say it directly to me."

Rossi’s smile vanished, his weathered face hardening into a mask of calculated fury. He took a slow step forward, setting his glass down on a nearby silver tray with a sharp *clink*. "You’re young, Luca, and you’re letting sentimentality cloud your judgment. A woman from the working class—a servant—has no place at the head of the Moretti syndicate. The Commission demands stability. We demand tribute from your Chicago shipping lanes to make up for the losses Consiglio caused."

"Tribute?" Luca let out a dark, dangerous laugh that echoed off the marble walls. "The only thing this family owes New York is a reminder of who controls the Midwest. My shipping lanes are mine. My house is mine. And if you ever speak to my partner with disrespect again, you won't make it out of Illinois alive."

The tension reached a boiling point. Rossi’s bodyguards tensed, their shoulders hunching as they prepared to draw. But before a single shot could be fired, the heavy oak doors at the end of the ballroom swung open with a resounding bang.

Rocco stepped inside, flanked by four heavily armed enforcers, holding a secured satellite phone in his hand. He walked straight up to Luca, whispering something urgently into his ear.

Luca’s expression didn't change, but the dark fire in his eyes flared with terrifying intensity. He looked back down at Rossi, a grim, humorless smirk playing on his lips. "It seems, Salvatore, that your little tactical team parked outside just tried to breach our northern perimeter. My men have already disarmed them. You have five minutes to get in your car and drive back to New York before my enforcers finish what Consiglio started."

Rossi’s face drained of all color. He realized, with sudden, terrifying clarity, that he had walked right into a trap. Without another word, the aging patriarch turned on his heel, gesturing frantically for his bodyguards to follow as they retreated hastily through the double doors.

As the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, the ballroom erupted into quiet cheers from Luca’s loyal capos. Luca turned to me, wrapping both arms around me and burying his face in my neck, letting out a long, shuddering breath of relief.

"You handled them like a true queen," Luca whispered against my skin.