Chapter 5 The Woman Who Didn’t Know How to Obey

Vicenzo tightened his fingers around the side of the crystal glass, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the double doors ahead. The damn woman was already five minutes late. Five minutes during which photographers and journalists watched him with expectation, waiting for him to announce yet another luxury resort on some exclusive island, or perhaps a new multimillion-dollar investment in Dubai.

No one there imagined the real reason for the press conference—much less that he was about to introduce his wife to the world.

He drew a slow breath, trying to contain the irritation. It wasn’t the delay itself. It was the challenge. The audacity. The provocation.

In his mind, images formed with cruel clarity. Giulia kneeling on the cold bedroom floor, dressed only in a thin leather collar, wrists bound behind her back, her proud gaze forced downward. He would make her repeat every apology with her mouth occupied, her voice muffled, her pride crushed. It wouldn’t be about pleasure. It would be about control. About reminding her who was in charge.

Vicenzo looked back at the doors. Nothing. No sign of her.

The hall was far too quiet for an event of that scale. The tension was palpable. He knew glances were beginning to cross, that whispers would start any second. And still, she didn’t appear.

What he didn’t know was that Giulia was already there.

Hidden behind one of the side columns, she watched everything closely. His dark suit. His perfectly aligned hair. The rigid posture of a man on the verge of exploding. A smile almost slipped. Almost. She hadn’t truly smiled since Luca died, but provoking Vicenzo stirred something strange inside her—almost morbid pleasure. She wasn’t naïve. She knew there would be consequences. She knew he would charge interest on every second of delay. But for now, she allowed herself to savor the moment.

It was the first time in a long while she felt something close to pleasure.

She adjusted the black dress calmly, like someone preparing to step onto a stage.

And then, chin lifted and eyes steady, she took her first step toward the platform.

When Giulia finally entered the hall, time seemed to slow. She walked with confidence, heels echoing against the marble floor, the tight black dress hugging every curve with surgical precision. It wasn’t the discreet white dress Vicenzo had ordered prepared. It was a blatant invitation to sin—and his body reacted before he could stop it.

Blood heated. Jaw locked. His eyes tracked her like she was a living threat.

She wasn’t just disobeying.

She was challenging him.

And worst of all—she was beautiful.

The dress plunged low in the back, the fabric shimmering under the spotlight, the neckline making it clear she knew exactly the effect she had. Vicenzo felt heat climb up his neck, and it wasn’t only anger. It was desire. A desire he hated. A desire that dragged Luca’s name into his mind—and that alone turned it poisonous.

He would never betray his friend. Never allow himself to feel anything for that woman.

But his body didn’t obey logic.

And that only made him more determined to destroy her.

The photographers began firing flashes the moment they recognized her. The hall exploded with lights and voices.

“Giulia Salvatore!”

“The New York mobster’s granddaughter!”

“Wasn’t she engaged to Luca Romano?”

“What is she doing here?”

Questions came from all sides, but Giulia didn’t falter. She walked with her eyes fixed on Vicenzo, ignoring the chaos around her. Everyone knew who she was. Everyone knew the past. They knew she had been involved with Luca, Vicenzo’s right-hand man, and that he had been brutally murdered the night their engagement was announced.

Her presence there was an affront.

A scandal.

And she knew it.

Vicenzo watched her with narrowed eyes. In his mind, a cold note formed: whoever had dressed Giulia would pay dearly for switching the dress. But there was no time for punishment now. There was only her, walking onto the stage as if she belonged there.

And then, to everyone’s surprise, Giulia took Vicenzo’s arm. Not stiffly. Not formally. She held him like a woman in love. Like someone who trusted him. And when he looked at her, she smiled—a sweet, intimate smile, the kind reserved for someone you love.

The room froze.

More flashes. More shouts.

“Are they together?” 

“Is this real?”

Inside, Vicenzo was screaming.

You bitch. This is how you fooled Luca. If I didn’t know what you wanted, I’d believe you actually love me. But your tricks don’t work on me.

He smiled back. Cold. Calculated.

Then he turned to the press and spoke with a steady, unwavering voice.

“I’d like to announce that Giulia Salvatore is my future wife. The wedding will take place soon, right here in Las Vegas.”

It was like throwing a bomb into the room.

Silence lasted a single second.

Then chaos.

The questions started the way they always do—careful phrasing, polite smiles, cordial tones. But it only took a few minutes for the press to drop the façade and go straight for what really mattered. Flashes kept firing, microphones stretched out like claws, voices overlapping as they tried to provoke any reaction from either of them.

“When did your relationship begin?”

“Did you have contact while Luca was still alive?”

“Was it a secret affair?”

Giulia kept her gaze fixed on Vicenzo, but with every new question, her body betrayed her control. The shoulders that had been held high with confidence began to sink. The posture that had been flawless showed tiny fractures. And Vicenzo, feeling her so close, missed none of it. The woman who had entered the hall like a storm was now shrinking under the weight of a name that still loomed over everyone.

Luca.

The next question came like a blade.

Cold. Cruel. Calculated.

“After the death of Luca Romano, there was widespread speculation about Giulia Salvatore’s possible direct or indirect involvement. Although the culprit has not yet been identified, since he was your best friend, Vicenzo, what do you think about that?”

The hall fell silent. No more flashes. Only expectation.

Vicenzo felt Giulia flinch beside him. It wasn’t visible, but he felt it. Her arm, still linked with his, weakened. The woman who provoked, who smiled as if she were in control, now seemed smaller. And he liked that. Not out of gratuitous cruelty, but because it was under this kind of pressure that masks began to crack.

He answered calmly, unhurried, as if savoring every word.

“We had no involvement of any kind while Luca was alive.” He paused, just long enough to let it sink in. “She came to me afterward. Insisted. And I… gave in.”

He didn’t look at the journalists.

He looked at her.

“Luca is still my best friend. A brother of the soul. And finding his killer—and everyone involved—is my priority. I won’t rest until I make them wish they’d never been born.”

Giulia stared at him, motionless. Her eyes said everything her mouth dared not speak.

Vicenzo then turned back to the journalists, a cold smile on his lips.

“I believe Giulia feels the same way, don’t you, sweetheart?”