She Took My Wedding, So I Married the Don Chapter 04

The police were already there when Luca’s car pulled into the garage lot.

Two cruisers. Red and blue lights painting my mother’s face as she pointed straight at me.

“That’s her. That’s the thief.”

An officer stepped forward, hand moving toward his cuffs.

And Luca Moretti stepped between us.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. He simply stood there-six-foot-six of black suit and silence-and the officer’s hand stopped in midair.

“Detective Harris,” Luca said pleasantly. “How’s your daughter? Still at Stanford?”

The detective swallowed hard. “Mr. Moretti. I-didn’t know this was your property.”

“Now you do.”

Mom’s face went from furious to confused. She’d heard the name. Everyone had.

“Officer, my daughter broke into our home and stole-”

“I didn’t steal anything.” My voice shook, but I pulled the folded bank slip from my wallet. I’d kept it, the way Grandpa taught me to keep every receipt. “Forty thousand, withdrawn from my account, in my name, two months ago. I gave it to my father to hold for my wedding vendors. The wedding they gave to my sister.”

Detective Harris read it. Read it again.

“And the pearls,” I said, “were left to me in my grandmother’s will. I have a copy.”

“Ma’am,” the detective said to Mom, carefully, “this is a civil family matter. Nothing was stolen.”

“She is my daughter! I decide what-”

“I’m not your daughter,” I said. “You made that clear when you poured champagne over my life.”

The word daughter hung in the cold air. For a second, something flickered in Mom’s eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by the look she’d given me my whole life-the look that said why can’t you be easier, like Bianca?

She dropped her voice. “People are talking, Sloane. Ethan’s mother heard the rumors. You will come to the wedding Saturday. You’ll smile, and you’ll hug your sister, so everyone knows we did nothing wrong.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Two days ago you told me not to come.”

“Things have changed.”

“Yeah,” I said. “They have.”

Her gaze slid to Luca. Up and up. “And who’s this? Your next mistake?”

Luca smiled at her.

I’d seen him smile at Nonna-warm, soft. This smile was nothing like that. This smile made the detective take a step

back.

“Mrs. Avery,” he said. “Go home.”

She went.

Upstairs, I sat on the kitchen counter while Luca made coffee in my tiny kitchen like he owned it. Which, technically, he

did.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked.

He set a mug in my hands. Then he told me two things.

The first: Ethan’s father’s construction firm was drowning in debt. And the people holding that debt were the Castellanos-the family that had been trying to bury the Morettis for thirty years.

“Your sister’s wedding,” Luca said, “will be full of Castellanos.”

The second thing came slower.

“The Commission wants peace. They’ve proposed an alliance. Me-married to Valentina Castellano.” His jaw tightened. “Her family planted the bomb that killed Sofia. I can’t prove it. And I can’t refuse a marriage without a reason

they’ll respect.”

“What reason would they respect?”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“A wife.”

My coffee froze halfway to my mouth.

Luca Moretti set his mug down, stepped between my knees, and braced his huge hands on either side of me on the

counter. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.

“Marry me, Sloane,” he said quietly. “Before Saturday.”

“You’re insane.”

“Then walk into that wedding,” he murmured, “as Mrs. Moretti. And watch every single one of them choke on it.”