Bound by

Chapter 2

**The Next Day:**

Luca woke the next morning, sunlight streaming through the curtains. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on his mind. His body ached from the intensity of it, but more than the physical discomfort, it was the emotional confusion that gnawed at him. He had spent his whole life hating Vincenzo Moretti, and now, in the span of one night, everything had changed.

As he lay in the bed, the cool sheets tangled around his legs, he could hear the quiet murmur of voices beyond the bedroom door. His muscles tensed, wondering what the day would bring. Would Vincenzo expect him to fall into the role of a compliant spouse? Would he be seen as a trophy? A pawn?

Vincenzo, fully dressed, stood at the door, already the picture of power and control. He glanced at Luca, his expression unreadable.

“Get dressed,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of authority. “We have matters to discuss.”

Luca wanted to snap back, to resist, but he couldn’t forget the unspoken understanding that had passed between them the night before. It wasn’t just about power—it was about control, a dangerous dance between them both. His heart raced as he stood and pulled on his clothes, trying to steady his emotions.

When they descended into the main hall, the house was bustling with Moretti men, their eyes briefly flicking toward Luca before returning to their business. They all knew what had happened—his marriage to Vincenzo had been as much a public spectacle as it was a private declaration of dominance.

Vincenzo led Luca into his study, shutting the heavy door behind them. The silence in the room was thick, the air charged with unresolved tension.

“We’re going to the DeLuca estate today,” Vincenzo said, his voice measured. “Your father needs to see that you’re with me now.”

Luca stiffened at the mention of his father. The idea of standing beside Vincenzo in front of his family was unbearable. It wasn’t just about loyalty; it was about pride, the humiliation of being paraded as Vincenzo’s new possession. His father, once a proud and ruthless leader, had been brought to his knees by the Morettis. Now, Luca would have to face him as the symbol of that defeat.

“What do you expect me to say?” Luca asked bitterly, his voice low. “That I’m happy about this?”

Vincenzo’s gaze sharpened, but he remained calm. “I expect you to understand your position, Luca. You’re part of my family now. You can hate me all you want, but you’re mine. And that means you’ll stand beside me, whether you like it or not.”

Luca’s chest tightened, his anger flaring again. But beneath it, he felt something else, something more confusing. Despite everything, there was a strange pull toward Vincenzo, a sense of being drawn into his world in a way he couldn’t resist.

Later that day, they arrived at the DeLuca estate. The once-proud mansion looked faded, a reflection of the family’s fall from power. The guards at the gate exchanged uneasy glances as Vincenzo’s car pulled up, but they stepped aside, knowing better than to challenge him.

Luca’s father, Salvatore DeLuca, was waiting in the main hall. His face was hardened with age and defeat, the weight of years of conflict etched into his features. His eyes flicked to Luca, then to Vincenzo, a flicker of contempt crossing his face.

“So, this is how it ends,” Salvatore said, his voice thick with bitterness. “My son married to my enemy.”

Vincenzo stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. “It doesn’t have to be the end, Salvatore. This marriage was the only way to stop the bloodshed. Your family stays alive, your legacy continues—through Luca.”

Salvatore’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He turned his eyes to Luca, searching for something—defiance, maybe, or loyalty. But Luca’s face was a mask of cold determination. He was caught between two worlds now, bound to Vincenzo but still his father’s son.

Luca felt a twist in his gut as he met his father’s gaze. He hated this, hated the way everything had spiraled out of control. But as much as he wanted to cling to his hatred for Vincenzo, a part of him knew that this was his life now. There was no going back.

Vincenzo rested a hand on Luca’s shoulder, a gesture that felt both possessive and reassuring. “Luca is mine now,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of finality. “And we’ll make sure the Moretti name and the DeLuca name thrive together.”

Salvatore didn’t speak for a long moment, but the weight of his silence was deafening. Finally, he nodded, his pride shattered but his survival instinct still intact. He knew there was no other choice.

Luca felt a wave of conflicting emotions as he stood there, his father’s silence like a nail in the coffin of the life he once knew. He glanced at Vincenzo, his new husband, and realized that, despite everything, this was his future.