Chapter 5 - The Contract Signed and the Wolves Circle
The next morning, sunlight broke through the gray Seattle fog, illuminating the grand drawing room of the Castellano estate.
I stood before a gilded mirror, wearing a tailored ivory silk dress that Dr. Marchetti’s assistants had delivered alongside the medical supplies. The pneumatic cast on my left leg was hidden beneath the flowing, elegant drape of the fabric. My dark hair was swept up into an effortless chignon, and for the first time in years, the hollow, grayish shadows beneath my eyes were masked by healthy color.
Emma was sitting on a plush rug in the corner, happily playing with a set of wooden building blocks that Luca’s staff had brought up from storage. She was giggling, wearing a soft lavender dress, completely unaware that her mother was about to tie herself to the most dangerous syndicate in Washington State.
A knock sounded, and the grand mahogany double doors opened.
Luca walked in.
He wore an impeccably tailored three-piece charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and a deep burgundy silk tie. He looked lethal, aristocratic, and breathtakingly handsome. When his dark eyes caught mine, he stopped in his tracks, his gaze traveling from the crown of my head down to the hem of the ivory silk.
A subtle, raw hunger flashed in his eyes before he masked it with his trademark composure.
“You look stunning, Ava,” he said, his voice deep and smooth.
“Thank you,” I replied, my heart doing an erratic flutter against my ribs. “Is the officiant here?”
“Judge Vance is waiting in the library. He is an old family friend. The paperwork has already been processed with the state registrar under maximum security seal. No press, no public records leak.”
We walked down the grand marble hallway together, Luca matching his long stride to my slower, cast-assisted pace. Dante and Judge Vance were standing beside a massive mahogany desk covered in legal ledgers and heavy brass stamps.
“Don Luca,” Judge Vance nodded respectfully, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. “Ms. Carter. We can proceed whenever you are ready.”
The ceremony took less than seven minutes. There were no romantic vows, no choir, no flower petals—only the scratching of fountain pens against heavy parchment and the solemn declaration of legal unity.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Judge Vance declared.
Luca turned to me. The intensity in his dark brown eyes was dizzying.
“May I?” he murmured softly.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
He gently placed his hands on my waist, pulling me close against his chest. His lips met mine—not with brutal force, but with a slow, possessive, intoxicating warmth that made my breath catch in my throat. It wasn't a fake kiss for show; it was a brand, a promise carved in stone. When he pulled away, my lips were tingling, and my cheeks burned with crimson heat.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Castellano,” Luca murmured, his thumb lightly stroking my cheek.
Before I could respond, the heavy library doors burst open.
Dante stepped in, his face grim, clutching a secure satellite phone. “Boss. We have a situation at the Port of Tacoma. Terminal 4.”
Luca’s demeanor transformed in an instant. The warmth vanished, replaced by the lethal coldness of a warlord. “Report.”
“A cargo shipment of medical supplies and imported marble was intercepted twenty minutes ago,” Dante said, his voice tight. “A group of masked operatives using military-grade explosive charges breached the perimeter. They left four guards wounded and spray-painted a symbol on the container wall.”
“What symbol?” Luca growled.
“The double-headed eagle of the Volkov Syndicate,” Dante replied. “And they left a handwritten note addressed to you, Boss.”
Luca took the satellite phone, reading the digital scan of the note. His eyes narrowed into slits of pure, murderous rage.
May you like
“What does it say?” I asked, my voice shaking as I stepped toward him.
Luca looked at me, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles bulged. “Jake Martinez is working with Sergei Volkov. They believe they have leverage. The note says: Return the girl and the inheritance, or Seattle will burn to the ground during the Emerald Winter Gala tomorrow night.”
