All Chapters of Whisked Away : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The city is now quiet for the night, but La Stella still smelled faintly of roasted garlic, fresh herbs, and the lingering sweetness of Luca’s signature dessert—tiramisu al limoncello. The restaurant’s lights were dimmed now, casting a warm amber glow over the polished mahogany tables. Outside, the streets shimmered under the streetlamps, the sound of distant traffic softened by the velvet hush of late evening.Amara lingered by the counter, stacking freshly cleaned wine glasses into the shelf. Her hair was loosely tied back, a few strands brushing her face, and every so often she’d push them behind her ear. She was tired—bone-deep tired—but it was the kind of exhaustion that came with satisfaction, the way your body aches after you’ve done something worth doing.Luca emerged from the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a faint smudge of flour dusting the edge of his shirt collar. He wasn’t supposed to be cooking this late, but after the drama of Isabella’s scandal the past week,

The aroma of roasted garlic and fresh basil drifted through La Stella that morning, a quiet contrast to the turmoil beneath the surface. The restaurant’s polished floors gleamed, but tension clung to the air like the lingering scent of burnt sugar.Amara stood at the prep table, sleeves rolled up, her fingers working the dough for the day’s bread. Every press of her palms was firm, deliberate, almost as though she was kneading her tangled emotions into something smoother, more manageable. In the corner, little Noah sat with a coloring book, his legs swinging from the chair as he carefully shaded in a drawing of a rocket ship.Luca entered from the back corridor, his presence commanding even in silence. The dark blue of his shirt brought out the stormy intensity of his eyes. But today, there was something softer in his gaze as it fell on Amara and then on Noah.“We have a full reservation list tonight,” he said, his tone even but carrying an undertone of meaning. “And… a few unexpected

The golden glow of La Stella’s ballroom spilled like warm honey across polished marble floors. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, throwing rainbows into the champagne flutes of New York’s finest. The air hummed with an almost electric expectation—tonight was supposed to be Luca defining moment.Amara stood near the edge of the stage, Noah tucked close beside her. She could see the pride in his small face, the way he looked up at Luca as though he were more than just a man, but some unshakable pillar holding the world steady.Luca stepped to the microphone, his tuxedo crisp, his gaze steady as it swept over the sea of guests.“Good evening,” he began, his voice smooth but resonant enough to quiet the room in an instant. “Tonight is about more than food. It’s about heart. About the people who dedicate their lives to creating beauty from flour, from spice, from flame.”Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd. Several celebrity chefs nodded in agreement. Amara felt her ches

The lights in the service corridor buzzed, flickered, and dimmed again. The walls seemed to close in around Luca, every sound sharper, every breath louder. His eyes locked on the numbers as they bled away—01:28… 01:27…He crouched lower, the officer beside him sweating visibly.“You cut the wrong one, we’re gone,” the man said, voice tight.“I know,” Luca murmured, his jaw set. He had no room for hesitation.Somewhere above them, through the ceiling vents, came the muffled chaos of hundreds of people still rushing for the exits.Outside, Amara stumbled onto the street, her heels scraping against the curb. The cold night air slapped her cheeks, stealing her breath. She clutched Noah tighter, his small hands gripping her coat.“Where’s Daddy?” he asked in a small, broken voice.She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “He’s—he’s right behind us.”But her eyes kept darting toward the double doors of the hotel, toward the faint outline of the corridor window where she knew he still was. Her st

The hallway felt smaller than it was, the air thicker, as if the building itself held its breath. Luca slowed just enough to assess the masked man, reading his stance the way a chess player reads an opponent’s opening move.The intruder’s grip on the weapon was loose, almost casual, but Luca recognized control when he saw it. This wasn’t a desperate thug — this was a professional.“Put him down,” Luca said, voice low and steady, his eyes locked on the man’s. The masked figure tilted his head, as if weighing his options. “The boy isn’t hurt. Yet.”Amara shifted her hold on Noah, angling her body so the child was shielded behind her. Her heart thundered, but she forced her breathing to slow. The man’s focus kept flicking between Luca and Noah — a tiny advantage, but an advantage nonetheless.Luca took a slow step forward. “You came for leverage, not blood. If you wanted to harm them, you would’ve done it already.”No answer.Behind him, Amara’s mind raced. She remembered the prep kitchen