Luca had barely stepped through the wrought-iron gates of the Morano estate when the sight waiting for him stopped him cold.
It was Bianca's parents and they went on their kneels immediately they sighted him.
The marble courtyard beneath them gleamed under the moonlight, but neither seemed to notice the chill seeping into their bones.
Her mother clutched the hem of her skirt like a lifeline, her eyes glassy with desperation. Her father's head was bowed low, but when he lifted it, Luca caught the unmistakable tremor of shame running through the older man's features.
The night was quiet except for the hum of the fountain behind them, and the sound of Fredo's measured steps as he followed close behind Luca.
"Please," Bianca's father began, his voice roughened by both age and humiliation. "Please… spare our daughter."
Luca's gaze didn't soften. Not even a fraction.
