FOURTEEN

FOURTEEN

LUCA

As the guests begin to trickle back inside, my eyes catch on something small, but maddening—a flower arrangement askew on the far welcome table.

Sophia doesn’t see it. She’s too busy moving through the room like she belongs to it. Smiling, graceful, speaking with the kind of quiet charisma that makes people lean in.

Her nerves haven’t disappeared, but she’s not hiding behind them anymore. She’s owning them. I molded that strength in her. She’s standing tall because I taught her how.

But that damn centerpiece—it keeps pulling my gaze. Off by just a few inches, but enough to itch beneath the skin.

Then, out of nowhere, she breaks off from a conversation, glides toward the table, and—without hesitation—adjusts it with a flick of her wrist.

She looks over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Is that better?”

I nod, lips tugging upward. “Perfect.”

It’s a tiny moment, barely a breath between us. But it says everything.

I watch her as she drifts back into the crowd, and something swells in my chest. Not lust, not pride—something deeper. She doesn’t just fit into this world; she enhances it. And the secret thrill of knowing her underwear is folded neatly in my pocket? That only sweetens the view.

She glances back at me again, and this time I see something else flicker behind her smile—an ache, barely there, but unmistakable.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.

She hesitates. “I was just thinking about Pamela. She always said I’d end up marrying a guy who smells like old books.”

“She close to you?”

She nods once. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t want her here. Even if she could make it, I wouldn’t ask her to. I know you’ve got people watching every entrance. That kind of protection usually means there’s a threat.”

“You picked up on the security?” I ask, a little surprised.

“They’re good. But I grew up around paranoid people. You learn to notice the shadows.”

Before I can respond, Alex calls out from near the altar, tapping his watch. “Time to roll!”

I offer Sophia my hand and guide her toward the front.

As we approach, I make the introduction. “This is Alex. My second. He’s the reason I’m still alive, more times than I care to admit.”

Alex shakes her hand. “So you’re the woman who finally got him to stop being a cold bastard. Respect.”

Sophia laughs, clear and light, the sound cutting through the heaviness in the air. “He’s still got a little ice in him,” she teases, casting a warm glance my way.

Then Alex’s gaze lingers a second too long on her dress. “You look stunning, by the way.”

A hot flash of jealousy surges through me. Primitive. Immediate.

“Alex,” I say, voice low, threaded with warning. Just his name—but that’s all I need.

The message is crystal clear.

She's mine.

Alex picks up on the shift in my tone instantly, lifting his hands in a lazy mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just calling it like I see it, boss. No offense meant.”

We make our way to the altar, where the priest greets us with a kind smile that softens the formality of his collar. “Luca. Sophia. What a privilege to stand with you today, in this beautiful place, to mark the beginning of your life together.”

“Totally unrelated to that half-million we slid over for the church roof, I’m sure,” I say dryly.

He chuckles. “Well—it didn’t hurt.”

He turns serious then, voice steady as he looks at me. “Luca Morretti, do you take Sophia Graves to be your lawful wife? To walk beside her from this day on, through the good and the difficult, in health and illness, in wealth and in hardship, until the end of your days?”

My eyes find Sophia’s, and in them, I see a steadiness that mirrors my own. “I do,” I say, not just as a formality, but as a vow—one I mean, even if I don’t yet know what that means for us.

He turns to her next, his voice softening. “Sophia Graves, do you take Luca Morretti to be your lawful husband, to honor these same vows with your heart and your life?”

Her fingers grip mine a little tighter, her voice sure. “I do.”

The priest’s smile is genuine now, his satisfaction unmistakable. “Then by the authority granted to me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Luca, you may kiss your bride.”

When our lips meet, everything else disappears—the murmuring guests, the flickering candles, even the sharp edges of reality. All that remains is the feel of her yielding into me, and something wild and unfamiliar blooming in my chest.

The priest’s voice pulls me back, his words calm and full of grace.

“May your marriage be rooted in love and strengthened by the challenges you face together. It’s not the ceremony that sustains a union—it’s the choice to keep reaching for each other, again and again, no matter what comes.”

We turn toward the aisle, the room rising around us like a wave, but Sophia leans in close, her words meant only for me. “I thought weddings were supposed to take longer,” she murmurs. “That felt like it was over in five minutes.”

“When you’re the one footing the bill,” I say, “things move the way you want. I wanted quick.”

“To stay ahead of trouble?” she asks, eyes glittering. “Or in case I bolted?”

I glance at her. “You wouldn’t run.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure?”

“That little...conversation we had before the guests came back in.” I smirk. “You told me everything I needed to know.”

She laughs softly, shaking her head. “This all feels unreal. One minute, I’m living my quiet, routine life—and the next, I’m married to you.”

I stop walking and face her fully, the weight of her words sinking deeper than I expect. “This might not be how either of us pictured our future,” I admit, keeping my voice low. “But I swear, I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. That’s my promise.”

She chews on her lip, thoughtful, then meets my eyes. “And after?” she asks. “Once all this is over—once Briarwood is gone—what happens to us?”

It’s the question that’s been circling in my mind since the beginning.

“We figure it out when we get there,” I say. It’s not a perfect answer, but it’s the truth.

She watches me for a second longer, then her mouth curves into something soft—hopeful, hesitant. “What if... I want to stay married?” she asks, her voice barely more than a breath. “Would that even mean anything to you? Or is this just a power play?”

My chest tightens at the thought. A real marriage. Loyalty. Love built on something more than strategy. Could I actually give her that?

Before I can respond, a sharp sound echoes from the side of the chapel. I turn toward it, muscles tensing instinctively, just as Alex strides toward us—his usual calm traded for something far more urgent.

Alex approaches quickly, his usual calm swapped for something tighter, more alert. His eyes flick briefly to Sophia, then lock on mine.

“We’ve got movement near the outer perimeter. Briarwood’s crew, or at least men we think belong to him. Might be nothing—but you told me to keep you in the loop.”

The air around me sharpens, my thoughts slicing through every possible scenario. “Keep the guests protected. Quietly. I want security on alert, but no panic. No one even blinks wrong unless I say so.”

But his hesitation says there’s more. I can see it in the tightness of his jaw.

“What else?” I press. “You’re holding something.”

Alex exhales through his nose. “Didn’t want to ruin your day. But... Briarwood bought himself more time. Twisted arms on the appropriations board. Pushed the deadline back two weeks. He’s buying space to break the encryption.”

I clench my jaw, swearing under my breath. Of course he did.

Then Sophia slips her fingers into mine. Her voice is soft, but steady. “Is there anything I can do?” That quiet strength again—always surprising, always steady. “If you need to go deal with this—”

The way she steps aside without flinching, without resentment—it hits me harder than I expect. We just got married, and she’s already offering to move out of the way for me.

That kind of selflessness can be a gift... or a liability. Depending on how the next few weeks go, it might be both.

I look at her and make the decision, then and there.

“No,” I say, curling my fingers tighter around hers. “We’re married now. So we’re going on our honeymoon.”

And if the world wants to burn while we’re gone, let it try.