CHAPTER 4

Dahlia’s POV

The sound ripped through the hall—loud, sharp, and terrifying. For a moment, no one moved. Then another shot followed, and another. Glass shattered, people screamed, and the whole room broke into chaos. Guests scattered in every direction, tables flipped, chairs crashed to the ground.

My heart stopped. My legs felt weak. I didn’t even know where to run.

Then I felt a strong hand grab my arm. I gasped as I was yanked down to the floor, my glass slipping from my fingers and shattering beside me.

“Lay low,” Luca growled, his voice deep and rough in my ear. His body pressed close, shielding me. The scent of gunpowder and cologne filled my nose, and my pulse pounded so hard it hurt.

I ducked my head, trembling as more shots echoed through the air. Screams bounced off the walls, and all I could see were flashes of movement—men in suits running, people crying, and Luca’s cold eyes scanning the room like he was ready to kill whoever came near us.

Somewhere deep inside me, one thought kept repeating over and over.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

From his waistband, Luca drew a sleek black gun. My breath caught. I couldn’t look away as he stood up, tall and steady, his body still between me and the chaos. The sound of his gun filled the air—sharp, deafening cracks that made my ears ring and my stomach twist.

All around us, his men moved fast, like they’d done this a hundred times before. They pulled out their weapons, shouting to each other as they returned fire. Tables flipped over, wood splintering as bullets tore through them. I pressed my face to the floor, shaking so badly my teeth chattered. My heart slammed against my ribs, too fast, too loud.

Then I looked up—and saw him.

Luca. My husband. The man I had just married.

He stood there like the world around him wasn’t falling apart. Calm. Cold. Completely in control. His hand didn’t even tremble as he fired another shot. And when one of the attackers fell, Luca didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. He just turned slightly, scanning for the next one.

It was like watching death itself move through the room.

His dark eyes moved around the room, checking everything like he was counting the danger one by one. He didn’t look scared at all. Not even a little. He just started giving orders, calm and serious, and his men listened to him immediately. They moved quickly, cleaning up the mess and securing the place like they had done this a hundred times before.

I stood there shaking. My hands were on my face and I could barely breathe. My heart was racing so fast it hurt. Everything felt unreal—the noise, the smell, the fear. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

Then he reached for me.

His hand wrapped around mine—warm and strong. I felt it right through me, like a small shock that made my breath catch. His grip wasn’t rough. It was firm, steady, like he was saying without words that I was safe now. I didn’t know why, but that made me want to cry.

He pulled me to my feet, slow but sure. I stumbled because the floor was slippery with broken candles and petals, but he didn’t let go. He held my arm and kept me close, guiding me through the mess like it was nothing. My wedding dress was heavy and tangled, brushing against my legs, and I could feel sweat sticking it to my skin.

The black Range Rover was parked just ahead, shining under the broken lights like something out of a different world.

Luca walked beside me, his steps long and confident. His men were all around us, their faces serious, holding guns and watching every corner. The air smelled like gunpowder and smoke, mixed with the faint scent of flowers that somehow survived all of it.

I didn’t say a word. I just followed him, trying not to think, trying not to fall apart.

After what felt like forever, even though it was probably just a few minutes, we got to his mansion. It was huge. The walls were dark, the gates tall and heavy, and the windows shone like mirrors in the sunlight. The driveway was long, with neat green bushes on both sides. I felt a shiver run through me as I looked at the house. This was where I was supposed to stay now. With him. Alone.

My stomach twisted just thinking about it. I had only just met this man. I had only said “yes” because I had to. And now I was supposed to live in his house, like his wife. What if he didn’t believe I was Denise? What if he found out the truth and decided to kill me?

When he opened the car door for me, I didn’t move right away. My legs felt weak. I looked around, scared, not sure what to do. Then Luca looked at me. His dark eyes were calm but serious, and when he said, “Come,” his voice was soft but firm. I couldn’t say no.

I stepped out of the car. The gravel made a crunching sound under my shoes. The air was cool and made me shiver again. Each step toward the house felt heavier than the last. I felt so small next to him, so scared and unsure.

Inside, the house was even bigger. The air felt cold and quiet. The floors were shiny, and the furniture looked really expensive. Everything looked perfect—too perfect. Like a place where I didn’t belong.

An older woman came out from one of the halls. Her hair was gray and tied up neatly. She wore a black dress that looked like a uniform. Her face was calm, but her eyes looked sharp, like she noticed everything.

“Mr. Romano,” she said in a soft voice, bowing her head.

Luca didn’t smile. He didn’t even nod. He just said, “Take her upstairs.”

The woman looked at me, waiting. I slowly started walking toward her, my heart beating fast.

Then, his hand closed over mine. Strong. Commanding. Warm. But when I looked at him, my chest froze.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften his gaze. He just leaned a fraction closer and said words that made my stomach twist painfully:

“Go upstairs and wait for me… naked.”