Becoming Mrs De Luca Novels & Stories

I woke up to voices in my room and three women I didn’t know standing next to my bed like they’d been waiting for me to open my eyes. “Good morning, Mrs. Alighieri,” the one in front said with a curtsy. She was older, sharp suit, clipboard in her hands. “I’m Ms. De Luca. The Don has ordered a wardrobe prepared for you.” I was still tangled in Dante’s robe from yesterday and it swallowed me whole. “I didn’t order a wardrobe.”

Finally, setting down her wine glass with more force than necessary, she said, "Perhaps being Mrs. De Luca requires more than wearing a ring." I set my hand flat on the table and met her eyes without blinking. "Perhaps," I said. "But becoming Mrs. De Luca required something you never managed to achieve." Silence dropped over the table like a curtain. Before Elena could recover, Luca spoke. He didn't raise his voice,he never did,but the whole room turned toward him like he'd shouted. "That's enough."

he replied, his tone curt. Madam DeLuca’s eyes flashed. "I need to know what sort of woman my grandson is marrying," she said firmly. My mother, who had been watching the conversation with a silent expression, finally spoke up. "Mrs. DeLuca, what exactly do you want to know?" she asked in a calm voice. Madam DeLuca raised an eyebrow. "I want to ensure that my grandson is marrying a respectable woman. Tell me, Amina, what sort of hobbies and interests do you have?" she asked, turning towards me.

Agreeing with me, she waited for me to go inside before she drove off. Heading inside, I quickly changed out of my clothes into pajamas. I got on bed and immediately pulled out my laptop and looked up Lucian DeLuca. I had completely forgotten all about him after I went to college. The online page opened, showing only a few articles about him. It turns out he’s equally a powerful mafia leader as the head of Casa Deluca. But unlike Adrian, he doesn’t attend many functions or galas. There isn’t much about him online, which I would think is strange, but I know how things worked in the mafia. There isn’t a record of what they do.

Marco picked me up on discharge day. The car took a route I didn't know. Marco said it was Mr. Morello's arrangement. I pushed open the estate's front door. Luca was sprawled in a leather armchair in the center of the hall. His new wife sat at the far end of the sofa. Elena De Luca. I'd seen her name on the wedding invitation. She was focused entirely on polishing the ring on her finger, her own family's crest, and didn't spare me a single glance. My arrival registered zero.

In the few weeks I served them, I endured everything. The Delucas are spanish couple. Mrs. Deluca was kind enough to help me. I was put in their house, dressed, fed. I offered her my service and loyalty to return the favor. But as the days progressed, I noticed Mr. Deluca's weird stares and touches whenever his wife isn't around.

Nicholas De Luca. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of his name, but I pushed it aside and reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen was blank. No messages, no notifications. Not a single word from the people who used to flood my inbox daily. I let out a bitter laugh. It seemed that being Mrs. De Luca came with more than one kind of isolation. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the cold hardwood floor biting against my bare feet. I needed to shake off this fog, and a shower seemed like a good start.

The De Luca mansion glimmered that evening, polished to perfection as if the marble itself were trying to impress someone important. Servants moved like shadows—swift, silent, and nervous—under the sharp voice of Caterina De Luca. She had been orchestrating this dinner for days, a chance to restore dignity to the family name after Isabella’s quiet act of rebellion. Tonight, no one would be allowed to forget who the De Lucas were.

"But I have a condition." His brow furrows slightly, "Condition? Of course, I will go with you to take Cassie to her new school" I nod, "You have to promise to make me laugh every day. And no, I will take Cassie myself. The whole idea is to make her as normal as can be. There is nothing normal out of you so you have let me handle it. Deal?" Luca chuckles, the sound filling the room. "Deal. Now, are you ready to become Mrs. Moretti?"

A very unhappy, structurally unstable wedding cake. On the couch, her friends were completely unable to suppress their laughter, burying their faces in throw pillows as Ava struggled to move her arms against thousands of layers of stiff tulle. Meanwhile, across the chaotic grid of Manhattan, Luca was facing an existential crisis entirely of his own. Marco sauntered into the DeLuca family mansion, taking two steps into the main living room before freezing dead in his tracks. "What the hell happened in here?"