Chapter 3: The charity gala

Della’s POV

"Oh, my pretty flower," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek.

I flinched away, my skin crawling. "You don't get to touch me. Not until we're legally husband and wife. You got what you wanted, so you can leave now. Just tell me when the wedding is, and I'll be there." I didn't even try to hide the utter disgust dripping from my voice.

"I was just showing some enthusiasm, pretty flower." He turned toward my parents, a condescending purr in his voice. "You raised her well. What a pious, dutiful daughter." He took a long drag from his cigar, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. "You deserve… a new house. The moment I and my pretty flower tie the knot, I’m gifting you a new place. Quite ironic, isn’t it? Usually, the groom receives the gifts, but here I am, paying out. Oh well." He let out a dry laugh. "Who cares? By the way, my pretty flower," he added, locking his eyes back on me, "the wedding is in a month. I know you don't care for anything lavish, so we'll keep it small." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. Inside, my mind was a chaotic blur. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in my chest, and my tongue felt like lead. My knees started to give out, forcing me to sink back onto the couch before I collapsed entirely.

"I'll treat you incredibly well, pretty flower," he promised, dropping to a crouch and placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

I shoved his hand off and buried my face in my palms. My hands were trembling violently, and I refused to let him see it.

Mustering every ounce of strength I had left, I forced myself to stand. "You've delivered your terms, and I've accepted them. Now get out of my house."

"I’m leaving, baby doll. But I’ll be back soon. Keep that in mind." He flashed a smug grin, let his eyes linger on my family for a few agonizing seconds, and finally walked out.

The moment the front door clicked shut, the adrenaline evaporated. I collapsed onto the couch, my limbs turning to water. I leaned my head back against the cushions and closed my eyes, fighting for breath. This wasn't how my life was supposed to go. This wasn't the plan.

"El, what have you done?" Mama choked out, rushing over to me. I opened my eyes to see tears already streaming down her face. "How could you just give yourself up to him like that?"

"Mama, you don't understand—"

"El, this is insane. You cannot marry that man. He’s older than our papa!" Chris erupted, the fragile calm he’d been holding onto completely shattering. "How could you possibly agree to this?!"

"And what exactly did you expect me to do?" I snapped, my voice rising. "Sit back and watch him ruin my loved ones? Hell no. There’s no way I’m letting my pride get in the way of this family’s safety. Look, I despise him. If he were the last man on earth, I wouldn't look his way. But right now? We are desperate. I am desperate. Dad took that money for my surgery. If it wasn't for my wretched illness, he never would have approached a monster like Lorenzo Moretti. This debt is on me. If marrying him wipes the slate clean, I’m doing it. And…" I stopped, taking a sharp, ragged breath. "I don't want to hear another word about this, Chris. Do you hear me?"

"El—"

"Chris, please! Just stop and look at the reality here," I pleaded, exhaustion cutting through my anger. "We’re trapped either way. We couldn't pay him today, and we all know what happens to people who default on Lorenzo. If I refuse him, we’re dead anyway. We have no leverage. Just… go to your room. Don't ask me about this again. And that goes for you too, Mabel," I added, cutting off any further arguments as I turned and walked toward my bedroom.

The second I crossed the threshold, I shut the door, pressed my back against it, and slid down to the floor. The tears came rushing out, hot and fast. This one decision was rewriting my entire future, and it terrified me. I heard muffled footsteps just outside the door—my parents, but I couldn't face them. Not tonight.

I sat on the cold floor for God knows how long before I finally dragged myself to bed. Lying there in the dark, the emotional weight felt physically crushing. My life would never be the same the moment I stepped into his world. I have to do this, I repeated it like a mantra. For my parents. For my siblings.

Then, a desperate thought sparked in the darkness. What if I could raise the money before he finalized the date? But it was a mountain of cash. Could I really get the full amount in time? And with the timeline completely up to him, the uncertainty was agonizing.

I tossed and turned, desperately calculating my nonexistent options until exhaustion finally dragged me under.

~~~

More than two weeks passed without a single word from Lorenzo. Even so, the clock was ticking, he’d set the wedding date for just over a week from now.

I had managed to scrape together nearly half the debt, thanks to some high-paying event gigs Romano had thrown toward the agency I worked for. I’d worked four major events in the last fourteen days, but it still wasn't enough. The endless night shifts were draining me, and while I’d been hunting for a second job to split the difference, nothing had panned out.

Tonight, though, we were ushering a massive charity gala. It was a high-profile affair packed with business tycoons, old money elites, and major philanthropists. If there was ever a night to pull in an extraordinary bonus or networking tip, it was this one. I needed this win. I wanted nothing more than to throw the full cash amount in Lorenzo's face and walk away clean.

When I arrived at the venue, the setup was already breathtaking. The grand ballroom of the Valtteri Hotel—one of the most prestigious luxury hotel chains in the world—had been utterly transformed. Pristine round tables were topped with towering, elegant floral centerpieces. A sleek podium stood on the main stage, bathed in the soft, warm glow of massive crystal chandeliers. A flawless red carpet cut through the entrance, flanked by silent auction tables and donation backdrops.

The event planners had outdone themselves. The space didn't just look expensive, it exuded a quiet, terrifying kind of power. You could feel it in the air.

The rest of the team, Matt, Christal, Joanna, Clara, Blossom, and a few others—arrived with me around 5:00 PM. After a quick briefing on our positions and responsibilities, Christal grabbed the name tags and VIP guest lists from Matt.

By 5:30 PM, the first major VIP arrived, flanked by about two imposing security guards. What caught my attention was that while we only expected one primary VIP under that specific tier, this men were bypassing the standard check-in entirely. My gaze collided with the man in the middle.

He didn't look like anything I've ever seen. He commanded the space effortlessly, moving with a controlled grace that made my chest tighten. He was dressed entirely in black, wearing a flawlessly ironed blazer over a black long-sleeved shirt, left slightly unbuttoned at the collar. His physique was lean and athletic—the kind of disciplined, cut build you get from the gym, but not overly huge. Every midnight dark strand of his hair was perfectly styled, and a sharp jawline was framed by a neat, light beard and mustache resting against his upper lip.

As he walked past our station, a wave of his perfume hit me straight in the nostrils—a rich, sophisticated scent that practically radiated wealth and absolute authority. But it was his eyes that froze me in place. They were a piercing, steel blue. Cold, unreadable, and completely lethal.

Frowning, I snatched the guest list from Christal’s hands. My eyes scanned down the page and locked onto the name.

Karlo Valtteri. The most feared man in New York City, if not the entire East Coast. Lorenzo was nothing compared to him.

"Chris," I whispered, my voice suddenly tight. "Come here. This VIP guest… is this a typo?"

She offered a tense, humorless laugh. "No, it's not a typo. It's really him. He’s one of the primary donors tonight."

The ground felt like it was shifting beneath my feet. "That's impossible," I stammered, taking an involuntary step back. "The mafia don, Karlo Valtteri, is hosting a charity gala? Same man everyone walks on an eggshell, desperate to please him and also careful not to step on him?"

"Yes,” She said, as she looked up towards the door, where Joanna was standing. “Della, listen to me carefully," Christal said, her voice dropping to an urgency as she turned back to face me, it was a deadly serious whisper. "I know how you can be, but this is not the time to be like that. You need to be on your absolute best behavior tonight. Whatever happens, stay completely out of that man's line of sight. You don't cross his path, you don't make eye contact. If you upset someone like him, you disappear." She clearly warned.

Before she walked away to greet the next arriving guests, a cold, unfamiliar dread settled deep into my stomach.