The Fiancée He Thought Would Never Leave

A restrained round of applause greeted Luca and me as we entered the Commission’s annual alliance dinner.

The leaders and heirs of every major family on the East Coast had gathered in the Moretti estate’s ballroom. In five days, Luca would formally become underboss of the Moretti family. As his fiancée, I was expected to stand beside him tonight and share the opening dance.

We had known each other since childhood and had been engaged for three years.

Everyone assumed that after Luca’s appointment ceremony, we would begin planning our wedding and take control of the alliance’s legitimate operations along the Atlantic Coast.

Luca had checked his phone four times since we entered the ballroom.

I handed him a glass of champagne.

“Are you waiting for a message?”

“No.”

He accepted the glass without drinking. His attention moved past the crowd and returned to the entrance.

I knew he was waiting for Sofia Bellini.

She and Luca had grown up together. The Bellinis had once been among the Morettis’ closest allies, but a failed struggle for power had cost them most of their territory and influence.

After Sofia’s father died, she was sent to Europe. She remained there until one month ago, when she finally returned to New York.

Luca had immediately taken responsibility for helping her reenter the alliance’s social circle.

At first, he arranged repairs to the abandoned Bellini estate and helped settle the family’s remaining affairs. Soon, he began escorting her to private dinners and contacting older allies who had respected her father.

As the weeks passed, he also began missing more of our own plans.

People had warned me that Luca was devoting too much time to Sofia.

I had defended him. I believed he was honoring the old bond between our families and helping a woman who no longer had anyone powerful enough to stand behind her.

Ten minutes before the opening dance, Sofia finally arrived.

She wore a dark blue gown with a modest neckline. An old Bellini crest was pinned above her heart.

Several conversations stopped when she entered. Some guests looked at her with the quiet contempt reserved for members of a family that had lost its power.

Sofia slowed near the doorway.

Luca set down his champagne and went to her immediately.

The tension in Sofia’s face eased when she saw him.

“I thought you might not come,” Luca said.

“I almost changed my mind.”

She gave him an uncertain smile and removed a small black box from her purse.

“I heard that your appointment becomes official next week, so I brought your gift early.”

The box held a braided black leather cord. A small silver medallion of a saint had been set into the center. The workmanship was simple, and several unfinished threads remained visible near the clasp.

“It was made from one of my father’s old medals,” Sofia explained quietly. “I had it polished and set into the leather. I hope it keeps you safe.”

Luca’s expression softened.

“Thank you. I like it.”

He removed the platinum bracelet from his left wrist.

I had given him that bracelet.

For his twenty-fifth birthday, I had asked our family jeweler to engrave our initials on the inside. Luca had held my hand and promised that he would never take it off unless it broke.

Now he slipped it into his pocket and allowed Sofia to fasten the black leather cord around his wrist.

She lowered her head as she adjusted the knot. Luca stood patiently in front of her.

Their familiarity made the years they had spent apart seem meaningless.

I watched the platinum bracelet disappear into Luca’s pocket. A dull pressure formed inside my chest, but the pain was quieter than I had expected.

Mostly, I no longer wanted to keep watching.

The orchestra began tuning its instruments.

The master of ceremonies stepped onto the platform and announced that the opening dance would begin in a few minutes.

Guests moved toward the edges of the dance floor. The official photographers turned their cameras toward Luca and me.

By tradition, the first dance belonged to the man who was about to assume authority and the woman expected to rule at his side.

Sofia looked toward the dance floor and touched the Bellini crest at her neckline.

“Luca, would you give me the first dance?”

Her voice was soft, but everyone nearby heard her.

Before Luca could answer, Sofia turned to me with an apologetic expression.

“Only if Alessia agrees. I haven’t attended one of these dinners in years, and I hardly know anyone here now. I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself if I walk onto that floor with a stranger.”

The conversations around us faded.

Everyone waited for my answer.

Luca looked at me, and a slight crease appeared between his brows.

“Sofia has only just returned to New York. Half the people in this room are waiting to watch the last Bellini humiliate herself.”

His tone remained calm, as though he were making a reasonable request that did not require discussion.

“She needs someone familiar beside her while she adjusts.”

He paused before adding, “Alessia, you know you’re the woman I love. It’s only one dance.”

I looked at the black leather cord around his wrist and did not answer.