Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 169: Get The Fuck Out
"Get out!" she said simply. "Get out now!"
Don smiled faintly, as if her reaction had been exactly what he expected. "Be well."
"Get the fuck out!"
Don Genovese turned and walked out of the room.
For a moment Veronica sat perfectly still, staring at the door.
His words echoed in her mind.
What have you given up for him?
The question gnawed at her. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
Before she could stop herself, she grabbed the small rolling table across her lap and hurled it off the bed.
It crashed loudly against the floor.
Plates shattered.
Juice spilled across the tiles.
Cutlery scattered.
Her breathing turned ragged. "Fuck!" she muttered under her breath.
The anger drained out of her almost instantly, leaving doubt behind.
Veronica brought both hands to her face, pressing her palms into her eyes as tears spilled through her fingers.
Luca had sacrificed so much already.
And she...
She had walked straight into his life and turned everything upside down.
Her shoulders shook as the tears came harder now.
What if Don Genovese was right?
What if loving her really did destroy him?
*****
The reception hall glittered with chandeliers and gold-trimmed mirrors. Crystal glasses chimed, laughter floated through the air, and the orchestra played a soft waltz. It was a beautiful wedding by every standard.
Luca felt absolutely none of it. His hand rested firmly on Bianca’s waist as they joined the newlyweds on the dance floor. The room watched them. Luciano Genovese and his wife were a spectacle. Power always attracted eyes.
He moved with perfect rhythm.
But there was no warmth in it.
No connection.
Just a mechanical execution of obligation.
Bianca tilted her face up toward him, her hair falling softly over her shoulders. She had clearly gone to great lengths tonight. The dress clung to her body in a way that demanded attention—cut low enough to reveal generous cleavage, slit high enough to flash her thighs every time she moved.
And the room had noticed.
Men noticed.
Half the men in the room were watching her.
Luca caught the groom staring once, quickly looking away when their eyes met. Married men, single men, even a few women were glancing in Bianca’s direction.
He felt nothing.
Because every second he stood here was another second he was not at the hospital.
Not with Veronica.
The music carried them slowly across the floor.
"Are you still mad at me?" Bianca asked quietly, looking up at him.
Luca’s jaw tightened. "I don’t want to talk right now, Bianca. Let’s just get this over with and you can go home."
Bianca swallowed slightly, her fingers tightening on his shoulder as they turned with the music.
"Can you fault me for reacting the way I did?" she asked. "You are my husband. Shouldn’t I at least feel something?"
Luca said nothing. He simply guided her through another turn, his eyes drifting briefly across the ballroom. His fingers flexed slightly against Bianca’s waist.
If Bianca knew exactly how tightly he wanted to squeeze her neck right then, she would wisely stop talking.
She shifted closer as they moved.
Once, he might have noticed.
Bianca’s dress shifted again with the movement of the dance, revealing the smooth line of her thigh through the slit. Another man across the room looked a little too long.
Luca noticed.
And still, he felt nothing.
No jealousy.
No desire.
Just a growing impatience crawling under his skin.
The music ended with a final sweep of violins, and the applause around the dance floor rose politely.
The moment the last note died, he released Bianca’s waist, though he still held her hand long enough to guide her across the floor toward the newlyweds. His smile appeared exactly when it was expected—smooth, charming, convincing.
He congratulated them.
Shook hands.
Said the appropriate words.
Then he left.
The music and laughter from inside faded behind the heavy doors as Luca stepped onto the stone driveway.
The moment they cleared the entrance, he let go of Bianca’s hand.
Marco stood near the curb, still chewing on a piece of wedding cake he had apparently smuggled out of the reception. He swallowed and quickly hurried to get the car.
"Luciano, please talk to me," Bianca said, following Luca down the steps.
"You will leave for Vienna first thing in the morning."
"Luca!"
"Enough!" Luca snapped. "Your apologies are not accepted."
The car rolled up then.
Luca opened the back door.
"You’ll take her home," he told Marco.
Marco nodded immediately.
"I’ll Uber back to the hospital."
Bianca’s eyes widened.
"What? Luca—"
But Marco had already started the car.
The door closed.
And the vehicle pulled away before she could protest any further.
Through the window, Luca saw Bianca still talking, her lips moving rapidly as Marco drove her away.
Ten minutes later he was sitting in the back of a rideshare car.
When he reached the hospital, he moved quickly down the hallway toward Veronica’s room.
Veronica was awake.
The nurses had her standing beside the bed, one on each side supporting her carefully.
Her hospital gown hung loosely around her shoulders, and her hair was slightly messy. The thick bandages around her thigh made her leg look heavier, awkward.
"Slowly," one nurse instructed.
Veronica tried to put weight on the injured leg. She winced immediately.
"Jesus..." she muttered under her breath.
But she tried again.
Her limp was obvious, but she managed to stand straighter this time, carefully shifting her balance to avoid placing too much weight on the wound.
Luca leaned silently against the doorframe, watching her.
This was the only place he wanted to be.
The only person he cared about seeing.
Veronica lifted her head slightly as she concentrated on balancing herself, and that was when she noticed him.
"That’s enough for today. I’m a bit tired. Thank you," she told the nurses, trying to sound stronger than she felt.
They helped her back into bed gently and then filed out, leaving her alone with Luca.
"You’re doing good," Luca said softly, stepping closer. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, his hand brushing lightly against her hair.
