With my wedding slowly approaching, Luca’s father had already transferred his power as the Grand Master of the Knights. We only had a few more days before we would complete the ceremony with the Knights, and I would officially become their Queen.
“Will it be like last time?” I asked him.
“The ceremony?” Sonny nodded. “Yes, the same Knights as before. I’m hoping you choose me again.”
“Like I would ever let the Knights cast you aside.”
“What about the others?”
“I have no intention of letting any of you go,” I assured him. “Has that happened in the past? Did a Queen even cast out a Knight?”
“Yes. Evangeline refused to choose one of Luca’s uncles. Because of that, he lost his trust fund, banished from our world.”
My mouth widened in shock. “Why would she do that to him?”
“Because Claudio Salvatore disapproved of Arlo and Evangeline’s marriage. They were engaged before Arlo stole her from his brother.”
“If I had chosen Marcello over Luca, I wouldn’t have done that to Luca.”
He nodded. “I think that’s why Luca let you make the choice without forcing your hand. It wasn’t like that with Claudio and Evangeline. He was abusive and possessive. She couldn’t wait to get away from him. Arlo is a bad man, but he was always good to his wife. He saved her from a life of misery.”
We finished our champagne, and Sonny took the glass from my hand, setting our empty drinks on the bar. He led me toward the band playing at the front of the room. Sonny leaned in to whisper something to the bassist before pulling me onto the dance floor.
“What are you up to?”
“It’s a surprise. You’ll see, Little Wellington.”
Sonny slipped his fingers between mine and spun me a few times. A sly grin crossed his lips as a Tango beat filled through the room. “You ready to show these stiffs why they call it the forbidden dance?”
I chuckled. “You’re so bad.”
Sonny took the lead, his hand on my lower back, right above my ass. He embraced me in his strong arms, clutching my hand as he twirled me. We moved to the beat of the music, consumed by the Argentinian romantic dance.
He was light on his feet, graceful for a man his size. I had no clue what to do, and he guided me through each step, telling me to follow his lead. As my heels slid across the floor, I peeked over at Luca. His eyes burned a hole through me. He looked as if he wanted to yank me from Sonny’s arms and steal a kiss from my lips.
Luca wasn’t the only one staring. Sonny’s dad stared at me with interest, with his other sons at his sides, their eyes on me. They looked like titans of industry in their shiny suits, armed with delicious smiles.
When the song ended, Luca shot up from his table, adjusting the gold cufflink at his wrist as he walked over to us. He looked good enough to eat. Dressed in a black tuxedo, he owned every speck of fabric attached to his body. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. I loved when he smiled.
He clutched my hip, and Sonny loosened his grip. “Having fun, beautiful?”
My smile widened. “A blast.”
He gave me one of his signature smirks that set my panties on fire.
Arlo stood at the front of the ballroom with a glass of champagne in one hand and a microphone in the other. It was customary for the Founders to pat themselves on the back, congratulating each other for being the masters of the universe. Damian, Bastian, and Marcello stood at his sides.
“It’s showtime,” Luca said. “Are you ready?”
He steered me toward my table and pulled out my chair before taking his place beside his father. My grandfather sat beside me and raised a glass of scotch to his lips. His gaze traveled around the room as he surveyed the mood of the guests.
Arlo tapped the microphone with his finger to test the volume. A skin-crawling screeching sound shot through the room. “Welcome, friends and Founders,” Arlo said in his deep, silky voice, commanding the attention of the room.
Everyone watched him intently, hanging onto every word he spoke. Luca’s eyes found mine, his muscles stiff as his dad continued his speech. The Salvatore men were proud of their standing in the community. There were like kings and princes among commoners, their imaginary crowns floating above their heads.
“Cent’anni,” Arlo finished with his glass raised. “To another hundred years.”
A server passed a champagne flute to my mother and then handed one to me. I downed the liquid in one gulp. The band started playing again, and now people were out of their chairs, making their way toward the dance floor.
Pops extended his hand to me. “Can I have this dance?”
I beamed with excitement. “Of course.”