Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 203

Chapter 203: We Need An Heir

The way she looked at him. He simply adjusted his hold on her waist, keeping the rhythm, letting the music carry them through the performance.

That was what this was. A performance. The famiglia surrounded them, their voices blending into a warm, celebratory hum. Glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and somewhere behind them stood the towering anniversary cake, decorated in absurd elegance, waiting to be cut.

A weekend of celebration. A retreat. A dinner. A party. They had turned a year of nothing into an event.

It had been two days since he last spoke to Veronica. Two days of silence that didn’t sit right.

Her number hadn’t been going through. At first, it had irritated him. Then it had unsettled him.

He had called Marco. Marco had assured him she was fine. Probably sulking. Probably being dramatic.

Probably punishing him for leaving. His jaw tightened slightly as he spun Bianca smoothly, catching her hand again as she turned back into him.

"She’s fine," he told himself. The music slowed, signaling the end of the dance, and applause rippled through the room as they came to a stop. Luca gave a small nod, the faintest acknowledgment of the crowd, his hand slipping from Bianca’s waist.

Her fingers lingered on his arm, sliding down to his hand, holding it again. The toast followed.

Glasses were raised, voices grew louder, more animated. Family members took turns speaking, each one more enthusiastic than the last. Stories were told, exaggerated for effect, laughter spilling easily through the room.

"And now," someone announced, grinning far too widely, "we wait for the real celebration."

Luca already knew where this was going. "When are we getting a baby?" The room erupted into knowing laughter, eyes turning toward them with curiosity, expectation, amusement.

Luca smiled. "We need an heir!" He chuckled lightly, lifting his glass in a vague, noncommittal gesture. "Patience," he said.

It was enough. The attention shifted, the conversation moved on, the moment passed. Bianca’s fingers remained looped with his, or resting against his arm, or gripping lightly at his elbow. It irritated him just slightly.

He glanced down briefly at her hand on his arm, then back at the room. "You’re going to wear a hole through my suit," he murmured under his breath.

"Then I’ll buy you another one," she replied.

He didn’t want to be here. By morning, he would be gone. Work would be the excuse. He would get on a plane. He would go back to New York. Back to Veronica.

Don Vitale rose. Conversations dimmed, glasses paused mid-air, and attention shifted. He stood tall on the platform, one hand resting lightly against the wood, the other holding a glass.

Luca barely looked. He already knew how this would go.

"Family," Don Vitale began. "For years, the Vitale and the Genovese have stood side by side."

Applause followed. Luca lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment.

"And now," Don Vitale continued, his tone swelling with pride, "we are not just partners. We are family."

More applause. More smiles. Luca nodded faintly, his jaw tightening just slightly as the speech carried on. He caught fragments—business ventures, shared success, dominance over Italy—and somewhere in there, his name was mentioned again.