Los Angeles felt chaotic after Riyadh's ordered calm. Khalid's car navigated through traffic toward Bel Air, Yusuf beside him scanning every vehicle with professional paranoia.
"Security assessment?" Khalid asked.
"Three cars following us. Two are ours. The third is Marchetti surveillance." Yusuf's expression was grim. "They've been tracking us since we left the airport."
"Testing us or protecting Lucia?"
"Both, probably."
The Marchetti estate appeared through palm trees—sprawling grounds, Italian architecture, and the kind of wealth that announced itself without subtlety. Guards at the gate waved them through after checking credentials.
Victor Marchetti waited at the entrance, sixty-seven years old and built like a man who'd enforced his own rules with his fists before graduating to other methods. Dark suit, gold watch, the kind of presence that commanded rooms through sheer force of will.
"Prince Khalid." Victor's handshake was firm, testing. "Welcome to Los Angeles."
"Mr. Marchetti. Thank you for hosting me."
"You must understand, Prince Khalid, in our family, we take care of our own." Victor's eyes were sharp, evaluating. "Lucia is precious to us."
"As do we, Mr. Marchetti. Which is why I'm here." Khalid held the older man's gaze steadily. "To ensure this alliance benefits both our families."
Victor studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Come. Everyone's waiting."
The dining room was filled with Marchettis—uncles, cousins, and associates, all watching Khalid with varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity. Lucia stood near the window in a navy dress, her expression carefully neutral when she saw him.
"Your Highness," she said formally. "Welcome."
"Ms. Marchetti. "He wanted to smile, to acknowledge their private conversations, but this was a performance. "Thank you."
Dinner was elaborate—pasta, veal, and wine that probably cost more than most cars. Khalid navigated conversations in English and Italian when addressed directly, aware of being tested constantly.
Marco sat across from him, drinking heavily, making pointed comments about Saudi human rights and women's freedoms. Khalid responded with diplomatic patience, refusing to take the bait.
"My brother forgets his manners," Lucia said quietly, her voice carrying just enough edge. "Please excuse him."
"Nothing to excuse," Khalid replied smoothly. "Passionate advocacy for human rights is admirable. I share many of his concerns."
Marco's expression soured. He'd wanted confrontation, not agreement.
Halfway through dinner, Uncle Sal mentioned a problem with a shipment stuck in customs—something about permits and regulatory complications. The table erupted in opinions, everyone talking over each other.
"Route it through the Long Beach subsidiary," Lucia said casually, not looking up from her wine. "Transfer the manifest to the tech company's import license. Customs won't question tech equipment."
The table went silent.
Victor cleared his throat. "That's... that could work."
"It will work," Lucia said, still not meeting anyone's eyes. "I already verified the permit classifications."
Interesting, Khalid thought. The family deferred to Victor, but Victor had glanced at Lucia before responding. Not obviously—just a quick look, seeking approval or guidance. And Lucia's solution was immediate and detailed, suggesting intimate knowledge of their operations.
Victor Marchetti is everything I expected—brutal, old-school, and protective of family, Khalid observed. But there's something off. The way he defers to his daughter in tiny ways. The way she redirects conversations without seeming to. I'm missing something obvious, and that bothers me more than Marco's barely concealed hostility.
After dinner, Lucia found him on the terrace. The city sprawled below, lights reflecting off smog.
"Sorry about Marco," she said quietly. "He's..."
"Ambitious and resentful? I have three brothers like that." Khalid smiled. "It's fine. I've handled worse at family gatherings."
"Still. This is supposed to be civilized." She leaned against the railing. "Your family is terrifying."
"Wait until you meet my uncle Faisal. Then you'll understand terror."
They were quiet for a moment, the performance dropping slightly in the privacy.
"Are you okay?" Khalid asked. "You seem tense."
"Family dinners are always tense. Add a Saudi prince, and everyone's on their worst behavior trying to look impressive." Lucia glanced at him. "How bad was it? Honestly."
"Your brother wants to punch me. Your father is deciding if I'm worthy. Half the table thinks I'm here to oppress you with medieval traditions. The other half is calculating how much money they can extract from my family." Khalid shrugged. "So, a standard diplomatic dinner."
Lucia laughed, genuinely and surprised. "That's remarkably accurate."
"I've been doing this my entire life. Reading rooms, managing egos, pretending everyone's motives aren't transparently obvious." He met her eyes. "It's exhausting."
"Yes, it is."
They stood in comfortable silence, and Khalid realized how rare this was—two people who understood the performance because they lived it constantly.
"What are we actually walking into?" Lucia asked quietly. "With this marriage, what's really happening?"
Khalid considered lying, offering diplomatic reassurances. Then decided against it.
"My uncle Faisal wants your family's American connections and intelligence access. Your father wants our oil money and Middle Eastern influence. We're the transaction that makes it possible." He turned to face her fully. "But Lucia, we don't have to be just their transaction. We can build something that's ours."
"Something like what?"
"Partnership. Alliance. Maybe eventually..." he paused. "Maybe eventually something neither of us expected."
"That's optimistic."
"I prefer realistic." Khalid smiled. "We're both smart enough to know this is complicated. But we're also smart enough to make it work for us instead of just for them."
Lucia studied his face in the dim light. "You really believe that?"
"I'm choosing to believe it. There's a difference."
Before she could respond, Yusuf appeared in the doorway. "Your Highness, we should leave soon. Security protocols."
Khalid nodded, then turned back to Lucia. "Thank you for tonight."
"It was a disaster."
"It was honest. I prefer that to comfortable lies."
At the front entrance, Victor waited to see them off. His handshake was firmer this time, more respectful.
"Treat her right, Prince," Victor said, voice low enough only Khalid could hear. "Or the royal family won't save you."
Khalid met the older man's eyes without flinching. "With respect, Mr. Marchetti, your daughter doesn't need me to protect her. I think she needs me not to get in her way."
Victor's expression shifted—surprise, then something that might have been approval. "You're smarter than I expected."
"I could say the same about your family, Mr. Marchetti."
In the car, Yusuf waited until they were clear of the estate before speaking.
"Assessment?"
"The family is exactly what we expected: brutal, territorial, and testing boundaries." Khalid looked out at Los Angeles passing by. "But their security is more sophisticated than anticipated. Did you notice?"
"Yes. Cameras everywhere, guards positioned strategically, communication systems that look military-grade." Yusuf frowned. "That level of sophistication suggests serious money and expertise. More than typical organized crime."
"Or CIA support."
"That too." Yusuf glanced at Khalid. "Your Highness, there's something else. During dinner, I watched the family dynamics. Everyone defers to Victor, but Victor keeps checking with Lucia before making decisions."
"I noticed that too."
"What does it mean?"
Khalid thought about Lucia solving the customs problem instantly, about her education and intelligence, and about how everyone had gone silent when she spoke.
"It means," Khalid said slowly, "that we might be marrying into a family structure that's more complicated than anyone realizes."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I'm not sure yet." Khalid pulled out his phone and typed a message to Lucia: "Your family is interesting. Thank you for tonight."
Her response came quickly: "Interesting" is diplomatic code for "terrifying." But thank you for handling Marco with grace. Most people would have hit him.
I've wanted to hit three of my own brothers at various family dinners. I understand the impulse.
We're going to have very entertaining family gatherings, aren't we?
Absolutely. But at least we'll be entertained together.
Khalid smiled at the screen, then looked out at Los Angeles disappearing behind them.
He was marrying into a crime family with sophisticated operations, a hostile brother, and a patriarch who might not be as in control as everyone thought.
And somehow, impossibly, he was looking forward to it.
Because Lucia was worth the complications.
He just hoped she felt the same way.