Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 167: I Love You

Luca shook his head slightly. "That’s another conversation for a farther future. I am talking about now."

"Luca..." Don rose slowly from his chair. "I love you. You know that. But I will always be a Don first. Every time—every single time—I have to punish you for breaking the rules, it hurts me even more than it hurts you. But I cannot seem weak."

Luca could see the conflict etched in his father’s eyes—the tug-of-war between love and duty, between sentiment and tradition. Don had raised him to command, to calculate, to survive in a world that didn’t forgive mistakes. And yet, even now, he showed the faintest cracks of human frailty.

"And you have made me proud your entire life," Don continued. "You... if I could make things easier for you, I would."

Luca felt a twinge of warmth in his chest, a rare flicker of vulnerability in a man who had always seemed invincible. "I can take my punishment, Father. You don’t have to romance me into accepting it." There was a subtle humor in his tone.

Don’s lips curved into a small, approving smile. He reached out and patted Luca on the back. "I accept your claim. But you will still do right by Bianca. You will be seen in public as the perfect couple. You both will attend this wedding together tomorrow."

"No!" Luca snapped. His hand rose slightly in reflex, as if to gesture at the impossible demands of duty colliding with the stubborn pull of his heart.

"It’s an order," Don Genovese said. "We cannot have people lose faith in the familia. At least people have to know that marrying into our family is not fraught with disaster. You want to keep this mistress..."

Luca bristled immediately, his eyes flashing. "Don’t... don’t call her that," he argued. The label reduced her to something disposable, something fleeting—and she was neither.

"It is what she is. You want to keep her? You will maintain the social façade of your marriage for as long as you have it. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. Get some rest. Prepare for the ceremony," Don said before he turned and ascended the stairs.

Luca walked to the phone hanging on the wall. His fingers hovered for a moment before dialing Nonnina’s room. "Nonni... I’m home. Could you come down please?" He hung up and moved toward the bar. He poured himself a drink.

The sound of soft footsteps made him turn, just as Nonnina appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

She walked straight into his arms, wrapping herself around him. "Diavolino..." she murmured, her cheek pressing against his chest.

"Nonni..." Luca breathed, running a hand down her hair, feeling the familiar softness of her silver strands slip through his fingers. He kissed her forehead gently. "You good?" he asked.

She lifted her face slightly, eyes meeting his with a softness that belied the unyielding strength she always carried. "I’m always good when you come home," she replied.

Luca’s grip tightened slightly around her.

He held her a little longer.

"I am so sorry, Luciano," she said. "If I knew they were coming, I would have relocated Zuccherino."

Luca shook his head lightly. "It’s okay."

"How is she?" Nonnina asked.

"Still mouthy," he replied with a smirk.

"Oh, I thought that would be cured already," Nonnina said, the corners of her mouth tugging upward slightly.

Luca laughed. "Where is Bianca?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"In your bedroom," she said.

"Thought so," he muttered, turning to his drink. "Could you get me a change of clothes? I’ll take a shower in the annex and head back to the hospital. I have a wedding to go to tomorrow also. But whatever you do, keep me as far away from her as possible."

"Of course," Nonnina said immediately, nodding.

"You want some dinner?" she asked.

"Please..." Luca said, relief threading through his voice.

Nonnina smiled at him. "I’ll heat up something for you, and you can take some for Zuccherino too."

"Thank you, Nonni. Oh, uh... Mum says hi."

A beautiful, fragile smile spread across her face in joy. Her eyes glistened just enough that tears seemed poised to fall, but she blinked them back.

"She is fine?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Luca assured her.

"Good. I’m glad," she said, turning away before he could see the sting of tears threatening to break free. There was pride, there was relief, and there was memory in that glance.

Carol had always been the best thing that ever happened to Don Genovese, and Nonnina carried that memory.

*****

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds of the hospital room. Veronica picked at the breakfast tray in front of her, poking at the eggs with the tip of her fork, her nose turned slightly upward as though the meal offended her just by existing. The taste was bland, hospital-issue bland, and she could almost hear Nonnina’s voice in her head, reminding her that proper meals were meant to be savored, not tolerated.

The meal Nonnina had sent the night before had been heavenly in comparison. Freshly cooked, aromatic, filled with flavors that spoke of care, of home, of someone thinking of her. Veronica had eaten it greedily, the simple act of nourishment feeling like an indulgence she hadn’t realized she craved.

She would have asked for another portion now, but Luca had already told her he was attending a family event. He had explained it in painstaking detail—the who, the why, the what. She hadn’t liked it but she had accepted it. She trusted him.

He had promised to come directly to her after the event. She wanted to be there with him, but she also knew she couldn’t and not just because she was trapped in a hospital bed. She wanted to be by his side, everywhere, everyday, to be seen with him, to be envied because she belonged to him.

Her thigh throbbed softly, a dull reminder of the recent trauma. She could feel the heavy bandages around it, restricting movement and adding weight, but she tried anyway, lifting it slightly to see if the pain would let her forget for a moment. A small, proud smile tugged at her lips. Progress, she told herself.

(Brought to you by Jennifer Willard)