by Sadie Black
“Goodbye,” he uttered, hollow. Ciara tore the phone away from her ear and hung up in a hurry. Tears beaded in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. While the real action would go on between the police and the mafia, Ciara didn’t discount the fight that would go on within her soul. Luka was as much of a threat to her future as Vittore. With one man seeking to destroy her body, and the other threatening to crush her heart, she’d be lucky to make it out unscathed.
Journalism had never promised to be easy, but Ciara had never expected it to be this hard.
* * *
Luka
The driver’s seat was uncomfortable. Luka shifted back and forth. A full half hour had passed since the raid was set to go down, and still nothing had happened. The streets were too quiet. Maybe it was canceled or moved. Or maybe the information they got was a bust. It put Luka on edge.
The police scanner in the rented black minivan lit up, and Luka stopped squirming to listen. Linford had told him to stay away, but Luka wasn’t going to pass up a chance to see Vittore go down. If there was any chance Lombardo was walking out in cuffs tonight, he wanted the Don to know who won.
“False front on warehouse 821,” the scanner squawked. “Five buildings over.”
Luka bolted upright, gripping the steering wheel hard. Number 821 was a block over; it would take him no time at all to get to the scene.
“Gamma in position.”
“Team Alpha assembling.”
“Beta ready.”
“Epsilon on standby.”
The local team assembled and the SWAT team cordoned off the area to prevent innocents from wandering into a firefight. Luka’s minivan sat at the border of the area, but he was determined to get a better view. A turn of the keys brought the engine to life, and he crept along the perimeter until he found a position that put building 821 in clear sight. Men in tactical vests and black helmets clustered around the building, but there was no sign of a struggle.
“Take ‘em down, boys.”
Officers swarmed the building, and Luka leaned forward in his seat to get a better view. Seconds in and a barrage of shots went off, the gunfire audible even from a distance and within the confines of his vehicle.
“Gamma requesting backup.”
“Team Epsilon moving in.”
A new wave of units rushed the warehouse. As they did, Luka’s attention was pulled away. Another vehicle screeched to a stop three car lengths from where he sat. NYNYTV, the side of the van read. Ciara had come after all.
SWAT stormed the building as Ciara and her crew scrambled from their vehicle and set up. Ciara clutched a branded microphone, impatience seething from her posture. Every handful of seconds she glanced to the warehouse. The footage they’d get from a location like that would be astonishing; the building sat near the edge of the sectioned off area. Ciara’s news team fanned out in a semi circle around her.
The scanner cut back in.
“North side secured.”
“We need men on the East side!”
Luka could hear a flurry of shots. How many bullets were fired? He was washed over with a wave of awe for the force. How they could run toward bullets when most people would fall to the floor and shit their pants, was beyond his understanding.
“East side secured.”
“Bring ‘em out, boys.”
Police vans drove up to warehouse 821, lining the block. Luka couldn’t sit still. He exited the van and approached the police tape. Men in suits were escorted from the building while barely dressed, wailing women followed. From a distance, Luka heard Ciara navigating her audience through what was happening. As proud as he was of her, there was another matter he needed to tend to. He had to see Vittore.
One by one criminals and prostitutes were brought from the building. As close as they were, Luka could make each of them out. Men he vaguely recognized from his youth shot him lingering glances, expressions twisted with rage. Tonight Luka had not made any friends, but the risk was worth it. With this bust New York would be that much safer. More importantly, Ciara would be that much safer. The outcome was well worth the price.
Luka’s hands clutched at the yellow police tape as he waited. Heart in his throat, pulse drumming in his ears, he kept his eyes glued on the doors. At long last, the man of the hour. Vittore, in a fine designer suit, was sandwiched between two burly officers in tactical vests. The scowl on his face and the blinding anger in his eyes spoke more than words ever could. Luka’s spirits soared. After everything Vittore had done, after all the heartache and the pain, Luka finally got that fucker. Luka won.
Smug satisfaction spread a smile across his face. As the Don lifted his head and noticed Luka standing at the perimeter, Luka cocked his head to the side and set his piercing gaze on the Don. The rage in Vittore’s eyes turned to surprise. Hands dug casually into his pockets, he forced his expression to be neutral as Luka turned his back and strolled slowly away from the scene — just as Vittore had at his father’s funeral.
Luka walked a short distance away from the tape, then redirected his path to bring him to the NYNYTV van. One confrontation down, one to go. Luka honed in on the crowd around Ciara and observed her from afar.
“You’re seeing it here first. Alleged Don of New York’s Sicilian Mafia, Vittore Lombardo, is being led out of the warehouse as we speak. Lombardo, 63 years old, has been linked with many illegal ventures in the last thirty years, but police have never obtained evidence solid enough to incriminate him.”
In front of the camera Ciara shone like diamonds beneath stage lights. Inspired and radiant, the woman Luka loved was even more beautiful tonight than he’d ever seen her. Warmth blossomed in his chest and crept through his core.
The last time they spoke, Ciara had made it clear she didn’t need him. Looking at her like this, Luka knew the same wasn’t true for him. In her he’d found his better half, in her he’d found his future. The rejection stung, but he couldn’t give up on his happiness. With Vittore under arrest and facing life in jail, there was nothing to stop them from being together. Except for Ciara’s will.
“No numbers have been released, and no other names of those detained tonight have been brought to light, but this reporter’s eye witness account can attest that more than twenty individuals have been removed from the building in handcuffs. Tonight is the night justice has, at last, prevailed. Reporting from NYNYTV, this has been Ciara Simmons. Sleep well, New York.”
“And that’s a wrap,” someone from the camera crew called out. Muffled messages of congratulations were exchanged. Luka cut through the small gathering of crew members to Ciara. Following the end of the segment, the sound guy started to unhook her from her sound pack. As Luka drew in close, the man noticed, and his eyes grew wide.
“Alvin, what’s wrong?” Ciara asked, and as she turned her head to look where Alvin stared, Luka put a hand on her shoulder to establish contact. Her posture stiffened, and as her eyes met his, Luka read the pain and heartbreak within them. He had broken her. It was time to fix the damage done.
“Oh my god,” Ciara murmured.
“Five minutes,” he begged. “Just listen to me for five minutes, and if you don’t like what I have to say, you can walk away after that and I will never bother you again.”
“Luka, I— This isn’t really a good time.” Beyond the heartbreak in Ciara’s voice, there was embarrassment. The television crew she worked with were all nearby, and they could hear every word. The red light on the front of the stationary camera was on, but Luka found he didn’t care. Let them see. Let all of New York see. Until the day he died he would love Ciara with everything he had, and he didn’t care who knew it.
“There isn’t going to be another time, Ciara. I want to try to make things right.”
Her lips tightened, but she didn’t argue. Luka’s heart soared. If she wasn’t hardened enough to him to storm away, maybe he still had a shot.
“The first time I met you, I bragged about what an amazing mayor I’d be.” Words tum
bled without a filter, and Luka could only hope for the best. “The truth is, it was all hot air and inflated ego. Being mayor takes responsibility, and passion, and drive. It takes understanding and patience. It takes love. When I met you, I had none of those things. I was too cocky.”
The tightness in Ciara’s face began to ease, but suspicion lingered in her eyes. She braced herself for the blow she felt was coming. The idea that he had damaged her that badly tore Luka’s heart in two.
“You changed me. You taught me what it was like to love someone so dearly you’d do anything for them. You taught me to be responsible. To have ambition and passion. Above all, you taught me that sometimes the only way forward is to sacrifice the thing you love the most.”
In the distance, the police force was wrapping up the arrests and the first of the SWAT vans were pulling away, sirens blaring. The noise was minuscule compared to the drumming of Luka’s pulse in his ears.
“I had to step back and look at everything going on in my life, and do what you once had to do. I sacrificed the thing I love the most in this whole damn world. Every day since then, my choice has eaten at me. I kept trying to forget you. To move on. But without you, I was a shell.”
Had the adrenaline of the moment abandoned him, Luka knew he would be in tears. The sincerity of what he spoke resonated inside of him in a way that he’d never felt before. If this failed, if Ciara turned him down, there was no way forward. He had to give it everything he had.
“Without you, I’m not the man New York needs. Without you, I’m nothing. The truth is, you’re my strength. You’re the reason I get up every day. Even when we’re apart, I find myself wondering if you’d be proud of the choices I make. This isn’t some passing phase or temporary obsession — you’re the one for me, Ciara.”
A deep, grounding breath. Luka locked his eyes on hers, unwilling to back down now. He knew he had so much to lose, but there was so much more to gain.
“I love you. I loved you then, and I love you now. I can’t keep going on without you.”
At his side, his right hand twitched. The pieces were falling into place. Ciara’s lips parted slightly in shock, her eyes wide. The crew around them was dead silent, all eyes on the pair. The camera was still recording. Luka didn’t care who saw. As his right hand dug into his back pocket, he dropped to one knee. The fine fabric of his suit slacks ground into the snowy grit of the salted street. From his back pocket Luka drew a small box holding it out to her on the flat of his palm. Ciara lifted both hands to cover her mouth, stunned speechless.
“Ciara Simmons, please take me back. I swear to you that you are my forever. Will you marry me?”
Luka snapped the hinged lid of the box back, exposing the ring. A platinum band held a single princess cut diamond. Even in the moonlight the gem sparkled; its purity and clarity were rare. It was understated and simple, meshing well with Ciara’s sense of style. A piece of art. Ciara’s eyes flicked from his face and down to the ring. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes. Just as he’d begun to feel nervous, she spoke.
“Yes.”
The hands dropped from her face, she beamed. The expression wavered slightly as tears threatened to fall. Tears of happiness, he knew now. Tears of relief.
“Yes, Luka!”
He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger, a perfect fit. With the ring on her finger, Luka stood and swept her into his arms. More radiant than she had been while reporting, Ciara looked up at him. The gorgeous woman he’d fallen in love with reflected all the tenderness he felt for her back at him. Love.
“You know I’m going to spoil you rotten,” he whispered, drawing her close so the tips of their noses brushed. “Women everywhere will envy you.”
“You dork,” she whispered back, her words lit up with joy. Luka couldn’t help but smile back, inclining his head the smallest bit so the tip of his nose left hers and their lips met instead. Ciara’s hand trailed up and tangled loosely in his hair, and the kiss deepened. A few feet away, the camera crew cheered.
Vittore had not stolen their happily ever after, and now he never would. The kiss drew to a close, but Ciara remained close, nestled against his chest. She rested her head against the crook between her shoulder and his neck, her body a perfect fit against him. The battle was won, and there was no sweeter prize than the love of his life. New York was his for now, but Ciara was his future — and Luka would never forget it.
* * *
Ciara
The cathedral’s stained glass windows were decorated with cascading clusters of pure white baby’s breath flowers and rich, green leaves. Emerald had won, a silent nod to Paul and all he did for her. Ciara couldn’t wait to see how the color would bring their reception hall to life.
But it wasn’t the magnificence of the flowers or the stunning architecture of the old cathedral that drew Ciara’s eyes at that moment. As Pachelbel’s Canon in D played, and Ciara made her way down the central aisle, her eyes were only for Luka. Standing before the priest in a black tuxedo, she’d never seen him more dashing. Clean shaven and refined, he was a sight for sore eyes. Still, nerves rattled her. At least a hundred people were gathered in the cathedral, and at that moment, all eyes were on her. The wedding day was here at last, but Ciara still didn’t feel ready.
The luxurious train of her wedding dress trailed behind her as she walked, each step slow but certain. The mermaid design clung to her figure and emphasized the small of her waist and the round of her bottom before it opened up into a flowing gown. The dress plunged down her back in a drastic V to draw attention to her best assets. There was no veil; Ciara felt it was too dated a tradition. Instead she kept the look simple — the dress was all she needed.
From the way Luka looked at her, she knew she made the right choice. His eyes traced her up and down, jaw slightly slack. Camilla said he wouldn’t be able to look away from her beauty, but until that moment, Ciara hadn’t realized how true her words were.
Trembling, Ciara made her way to the end of the aisle and joined Luka in front of the priest.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. In return, too flustered and nervous to speak, she smiled.
In a low, booming voice, the priest began the ceremony. Religious rites, of great importance to the Belmonte side of the family, were to be recited before the couple could be joined. Through the prayers and passages, Ciara took the time to look Luka over in closer detail. There was nothing but love and affection in his eyes, and in them Ciara lost herself in memories of their past. From the first reluctant date at the Italian restaurant, she knew he was the one for her. It wasn’t until the priest directed his attention to them that she realized the true purpose of the ceremony was about to begin.
“It has come to my attention that the bride and groom have prepared their own vows. I’d like to invite the two of you to take this time to read them.”
Luka, so handsome in his tux, caught her eye and grinned. The look gave Ciara the courage she needed to continue. There was a difference between talking to a camera and talking to a gathered crowd, but if she focused on Luka, no one else mattered. The message she prepared was for him and him alone; what did it matter what anyone else thought? Ciara smiled back.
“Luka,” she began. The speech was written on a folded paper she’d tucked into her lace sleeve for safe keeping, but Ciara had memorized the words. “When I think back on how we met, and the circumstances that led to our relationship, it’s hard to believe we made it at all.”
The twitch in the corner of Luka’s grin suggested suppressed laughter, and Ciara grinned back at him. Every inch of her felt weightless as she reveled in the love they shared. Tears welled in her eyes.
“But then again, both of us are so stubborn, I can’t imagine any other outcome.”
This time he did laugh, the whites of his teeth catching in the light, his face lit up. From the front row Ciara heard Camilla sniffle.
“I can’t imagine a better person to compliment me. When I get too serious, you
remind me that life is about more than just accomplishments — it’s about moments. But, at the same time, you support my ambitions. Some people think that they’re blessed to marry their best friend, but you’re more to me than that. To me, you’re the person I draw inspiration from. I don’t know what the future has in store for us, but I know that whatever it is, we’re going to make the most of it. I love you now and forever, Luka Belmonte. I can’t wait until I can officially call myself yours.”
The affection in Luka’s face was tender and vulnerable, a look he reserved for her and her alone. Ciara caught his brown eyes with hers and held his gaze, immortalizing the moment. It was hard to believe how far they’d come, and how much they’d overcome to get there. It wasn’t luck or fate at work, but the force of their own stubborn wills. For as long as she lived, she hoped to never take what they fought to win for granted.
“Well, now I know why you wanted to speak first,” Luka announced in a jovial manner. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the index cards he held over his shoulder, each one twisting through the air on its way down. Never once did he break eye contact. Hands now free from the speech he’d prepared, Luka took Ciara’s hand instead. “Everything you just said was what I had written down. I guess that’s just another proof that we are meant to be.”
Charismatic and theatrical as he was, Ciara couldn’t help but grin. “When I was nineteen, I asked my father what it meant to be in love. He told me that love wasn’t something that could be described — it was only something that could be felt, and that I’d know it when I found it. Then, he turned back to his work. As it turned out, dad was just looking to get me off his back. Because love is something that can be described, but that is so abstract that it’s hard to imagine if you don’t already feel it.”
As he spoke, the tears that threatened to fall became more urgent. The crowd in the cathedral faded away, and for a moment there was just the two of them caught up in a perfect moment.
