A Shared Battlefield

“Bella, may I?” Marco asked, bowing slightly with a teasing grin.

Bella glanced at him, her pulse still racing from the stolen moments with Luca, and she knew he could feel it too.

Luca’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, his lips twitching with a restrained smirk. He stepped back enough to give Marco space, though his gaze never left Bella.

Marco took her hand with practiced grace and led her onto the dance floor. He leaned in, voice light but sharp with amusement.

“Don’t worry. I see exactly what’s going on here. Try not to start a war before midnight, will you?”

Bella rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh, her cheeks still warm from Luca’s proximity. She allowed Marco to guide her through a few turns while Luca lingered nearby, leaning against the edge of the dance floor, watching with calm, controlled intensity.

After a few moments, Marco drifted closer to Luca.

“Both fathers are waiting for you,” he said under his breath. “Go talk business. And maybe catch your breath while you’re at it.”

Luca nodded, his eyes still following Bella. When she looked back at him, his gaze lingered, dark and deliberate, carrying a quiet, unspoken promise.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured, low enough that only she could feel it settle in the pit of her stomach.

Marco turned back to Bella, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“And you,” he added softly, “don’t forget to breathe. The night is long. It’s only just begun.”

Bella’s lips curved into a mischievous smile as she drew in a slow breath, letting the adrenaline ease just slightly. Still, her eyes flicked toward Luca one last time, catching the spark that promised their story—dangerous, thrilling, and utterly impossible—was far from over.

Luca stepped away from the dance floor, his stride controlled and measured as his eyes scanned the room. Marco’s words echoed in his mind: fathers waiting, business to discuss. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back.

Bella was spinning lightly with Marco now, laughing softly. Every time their eyes met, something unspoken pulsed between them.

I’m still here. I’m still yours. Don’t forget.

Luca’s jaw tightened with each look. He forced his focus forward, even as his thoughts drifted while he spoke with the two Dons. The arch of her eyebrow. The way her hair caught the chandelier light. The curve of her lips. He catalogued it all, quietly, and it sent his pulse skidding.

Bella, for her part, was acutely aware of him. Every time the fathers’ attention shifted elsewhere, her gaze found Luca. She saw the tension in his posture, the dark concentration in his eyes, and it stirred a dangerous mix of desire and unease in her chest.

Across the room, they both carried out their respective duties. But the stolen glances kept the air charged. Each nod, each fleeting look, each silent acknowledgment was another thread tightening the web between them.

Marco’s hand settled at Bella’s waist as the music slowed.

“I won’t forget what you did,” Bella said quietly, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

Marco arched a brow. “A threat, or a compliment?”

Her lips curved, small but sincere. “A little of both. But… thank you.”

That earned her a real smile. Brief. Honest.

“That’s what brothers are for.”

They turned with the music, her gown brushing the marble floor. Marco leaned in, lowering his voice.

“I don’t know why,” he said, “but Luca fits you better than Alessandro ever did.”

Bella didn’t answer right away. She didn’t need to. She met Marco’s eyes and smiled.

“You already know my answer.”

Marco exhaled, amused. “Yeah. I do.”

Across the room, Luca stood with Don Vittorio and Don Giovanni, the weight of two empires pressing in from either side. He looked composed now. The frozen stillness from earlier was gone. The man who had survived blood, gunfire, and betrayal was back in his skin.

“The marriage,” Don Vittorio said evenly, “was strategic.”

Luca inclined his head. He hadn’t expected anything else.

“And clearly,” Vittorio continued, his gaze sliding toward Bella mid-turn on the dance floor, “also effective.”

Luca smiled. Controlled. Dangerous.

Don Giovanni studied him for a long moment.

“Respect my daughter,” he said. “You’ve gotten under her skin. I don’t ignore that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Luca replied. “I’ll respect her. As promised. She’ll be my equal.”

No hesitation. No performance.

Both men nodded. Not approval. Recognition.

“It’s only a matter of time before Moretti finds out,” Vittorio added. “When he does, this stops being ceremony and becomes war.”

“I’m aware,” Luca said, his jaw tightening.

“Good,” Giovanni replied. “Because from now on, every move you make reflects on her.”

Luca’s eyes flicked back to Bella.

“Then I won’t make careless ones.”

On the dance floor, Marco guided Bella through a final slow turn, then deliberately released her hand.

“I think that’s my cue,” he murmured. “Before Luca stabs me.”

Bella scoffed softly. “He wouldn’t.”

Marco smiled. “He might. He’d apologize after.”

That made Bella laugh.

“I think you two will make very good partners.”

Marco tilted his head. “We’ll see.”

As Marco headed toward the billiard table, Luca approached. His presence shifted the air instantly. Bella felt it before she looked up.

Their eyes met. Luca nodded subtly toward the billiard room.

“Care to move somewhere quieter?”

Bella’s smile answered before her words did.

Marco leaned against the table, cue resting lazily in his hand. When he spotted them approaching, he straightened.

“Luca,” he said, “one game?”

Luca stepped beside Bella, relaxed but alert.

“Why not.”

Bella’s lips curved. “I’m in.”

Luca turned slowly, eyebrow lifting. Interest, not disbelief.

“Oh?”

“I win,” she said calmly.

Marco snorted. “She’s not joking.”

Luca glanced back at him. “Really.”

Bella reached for a cue, confident, familiar.

“You can still back out.”

Marco immediately shook his head. “No, no. I should stop this. For family harmony.”

“Too late,” Luca said, taking a cue anyway.

Marco laughed. “You have no idea what you just agreed to.”

They took their places. Marco broke cleanly. Balls scattered across the felt like muted gunfire. Bella studied the table, already calculating.

She didn’t rush. She never did.

Her first shot was precise. Controlled. Clean. Luca’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Oh,” he murmured. “That kind of play.”

“Told you,” Marco said. Then he added casually, “House rule.”

Luca arched an eyebrow. “Rule?”

“If she loses,” Marco said lightly, “you might be spending the wedding night on the hallway floor.”

The words hit harder than a threat.

Bella froze for half a second. Luca did too.

Not ceremony. Not strategy.

After.

The air shifted. Bella felt heat rise up her neck. Luca cleared his throat, grip tightening just enough to betray him.

Marco noticed everything. Of course he did.

“Now it’s real,” he said, pleased.

“Excuse me?” Bella whispered, half-laughing.

Marco shrugged. “You know how mad you get when you lose.”

Luca’s lips twitched as he looked at her.

“She gets mad?”

Bella huffed a frustrated laugh. “Marco!”

Luca leaned slightly toward her, voice low, teasing but steady. “Well… we’ll see where I end up.”

Bella blinked, caught off-guard. “We’ll… see?”

“Yes,” Luca said, voice steady, eyes locking on hers with a dangerous, controlled intensity. “I’m not losing. Or, let me say so, whatever happens,” he said quietly, “you’re not sleeping alone.”

Her breath caught. Not because of the words, but because he meant them in more ways than one.

Marco groaned. “I regret everything.”

Bella smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

“You started this.”

“I’m enjoying this far too much,” Marco replied. “Now play.”

The balls clicked again, tension thick as smoke. When Bella missed by a hair, Luca stepped in, sank two in a row, then paused. He looked at her, satisfied.

“And what about when you said you’d treat me like a woman?” she challenged softly. “Would you maybe ease up?”

Luca stepped closer. Not touching. Enough to be felt.

“I also said you’d be my equal,” he replied.

His voice dropped.

“And don’t worry. I know exactly when to treat you like a woman.”

The words slid under her skin.

Bella felt it instantly, heat rushing through her veins, her breath catching despite herself. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t step back. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

Luca noticed everything. The flicker in her eyes. The way her fingers curled slightly at her side. The way the air between them changed.

Across the table, Marco watched, amused. Two newlyweds, marble and power all around them, standing far too close for people pretending they hadn’t thought about what came next.

The final shot waited.

This wasn’t just a marriage.

It was a shared battlefield.

And neither of them was backing down.