Chapter 4 - The Gala Trap
The city excursion wasn't a relaxing trip; it was a high-stakes display of power.
Luca was hosting the annual Moretti Foundation gala at the Metropolitan Hotel—a high-society event meant to project legitimate wealth to the public while reinforcing his dominance over rival families behind closed doors.
Mateo had been left under heavy guard at the estate, but Luca insisted I attend with him. When I protested, he had a dark velvet gown and diamond earrings delivered to my room with a note: You walk by my side tonight. It is safer where I can see you.
The ballroom of the Metropolitan was a sea of tuxedos, champagne flutes, and glittering gowns. As I walked in beside Luca, I felt the weight of a hundred stares hitting us simultaneously. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through dry leaves.
"Is that the waitress from Bellamy House?"
"Moretti brought her?"
"He's keeping her close..."
Luca placed a gentle, commanding hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the sea of socialites and syndicate bosses. His touch was warm through the velvet of my dress, sending an unwanted spark running up my spine.
"Smile, Claire," he whispered near my ear, his breath brushing my skin. "They want to see if you're afraid. Don't give them the satisfaction."
"I am afraid," I admitted quietly, keeping my head high. "Just not of them."
Luca let out a low, dark chuckle. "Good."
Suddenly, the crowd parted. A young man with slicked-back hair, an expensive suit, and a bruised, arrogant face stepped into our path. Behind him stood four oversized men in dark overcoats.
It was Julian Vance—the man who had thrown the champagne glass at Bellamy House.
"Luca," Vance sneered, his eyes sliding over me with sickening disgust. "I see you've brought your new charity case. I didn't realize the great Moretti family was picking up domestic help from the trash."
Before I could speak, Luca stepped forward. The atmosphere in the room plummeted by twenty degrees. The surrounding guests scattered, leaving an open circle of deadly silence around us.
"Julian," Luca said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "You look remarkably well for someone who was given twenty-four hours to leave the state."
Vance’s jaw clenched. "My family built this city alongside yours, Moretti. You don't order me around. And you certainly don't banish me over a little spilled glass."
"You targeted my son," Luca said, taking a single step closer. Vance’s guards instinctively reached inside their jackets, but before their hands could find their holsters, six of Luca’s men had silently flanked them, guns drawn beneath their coats.
"I th-threw it at a waiter!" Vance stammered, his bravado instantly cracking under the weight of Luca’s murderous aura.
"And Miss Bennett bled so my son wouldn't," Luca growled softly, reaching out to gently adjust Vance’s silk lapel with terrifying precision. "If you ever breathe the same air as her or Mateo again, I won't banish you, Julian. I will bury you. Do you understand me?"
Vance swallowed hard, his face pale as paper. He gave a single, frantic nod.
"Now get out of my sight," Luca commanded.
As Vance and his men retreated in disgrace, the party slowly resumed its artificial murmur. Luca turned back to me, his dark eyes instantly searching my face for any sign of distress.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently.
I looked at him—this terrifying, lethal man who had just dismantled a rival crime boss without raising his voice, all to defend my dignity.
"I'm fine," I murmured, my hand instinctively resting against his arm. "Thank you, Luca."
For the first time since I met him, Luca’s eyes softened, a look of genuine tenderness breaking through his hardened facade. But before either of us could say another word, a frantic guard rushed up to us, leaning in to whisper in Luca's ear.
Luca’s expression instantly turned to absolute ice.
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"What is it?" I asked, a wave of panic crashing over me.
Luca looked at me, his jaw tight as iron. "The estate's security feed just went dark. Mateo is in danger."
