Chapter 8 - Under Sicilian Protection
Luca did not let go of Isabella's hand.
He turned toward the car, holding her fingers tightly laced with his own, and walked toward the legendary Don.
Bernardo leaned his arm on the open window frame, his dark eyes assessing the younger man.
"Don Bernardo," Luca said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "I am asking for your blessing."
Bernardo’s silver eyebrows raised slightly. "My blessing for what, Moretti? To compensate my daughter for three years of unpaid overtime?"
"To marry her," Luca stated without a tremor. "I want Isabella to be my wife. I will pledge the entire Moretti fleet, every dock from Boston to Miami, and my life to protect her name and her happiness."
Isabella stood beside him, her heart hammering against her ribs, her hand squeezing Luca's with fierce, undeniable devotion.
Bernardo looked at Luca for a long, silent minute. The wind rustled the old man’s coat.
"In Sicily," Bernardo said slowly, "when a man wants to take a daughter of the Romano house, he does not offer ships and docks. He offers his knees."
Luca didn't hesitate.
Before Isabella could gasp, Luca Moretti—the ruthless king of New York, a man who had never bowed to any living soul—began to lower himself onto the cold, salt-stained concrete of Pier 4.
"No!" Isabella cried out softly, grabbing his arm, pulling him upward. "Luca, don't."
She looked at her father, her eyes blazing with fierce Romano fire.
"He doesn't kneel to anyone, Papà," Isabella said firmly, stepping between Luca and the car. "Not even to you. I chose him because he is a king. And a king stands on his own feet beside his queen."
Bernardo stared at his daughter.
Slowly, the ancient lines on his face softened. A genuine, radiant smile broke across his weathered features—the smile of a father who knew his daughter had found a protector worthy of her soul.
"Good," Bernardo said softly in Italian. *"Una vera donna Romano." (A true Romano woman.)*
The old man opened the car door and stepped out, leaning on his olive-wood cane. He walked over to Luca, reaching out with both hands to grasp the younger man by the shoulders.
"My daughter made her choice three years ago when she refused to leave your office, Moretti," Bernardo said, his voice thick with emotion. "I simply had to wait for you to grow wise enough to see what God had placed in front of you."
Bernardo pulled Luca into a fierce, traditional Sicilian embrace, kissing him on both cheeks.
"Take care of her," Bernardo whispered in Luca's ear. "If you make her weep, not even the oceans will hide you from me."
"I would die before causing her pain, Don Bernardo," Luca promised.
The old Don turned to his daughter, wrapping her in his arms, kissing her forehead tenderly. *"Sii felice, bambina mia. Ci vediamo a Palermo per il matrimonio." (Be happy, my child. We will see each other in Palermo for the wedding.)*
Bernardo climbed back into the Cadillac. The heavy doors shut, and the car smoothly turned, driving away down the long industrial pier toward the airport.
Luca and Isabella were left alone on the edge of the East River.
Luca turned to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.
"Did you mean it?" Luca murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. "What you told him?"
Isabella wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up into his dark, devoted eyes with a smile that eclipsed the morning sun.
"I love you, Luca Moretti," she whispered. "I've loved you since the day you stayed up thirty-six hours straight to protect your dockworkers' pension funds from Wall Street sharks. You thought you were hiding your heart behind that cold desk. But I saw it."
Luca crushed his lips against hers.
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It was a kiss born of three years of unspoken hunger, of violence survived, of pride surrendered and love reclaimed. Isabella parted her lips, surrendering completely to the fierce, protective heat of his embrace, the river wind whipping around them like a blessing.
***
