Bride To Be

••Luciana••

As I gazed out the windows, the stunning views of New York City captured my attention. I had just spent an entire day with Andrian, and we decided to take a drive under the stars. I cranked down the window of the Aston Martin DB11, inviting the soft night breeze to envelop us.

"When all this wedding madness settles down," he said, his voice calm and steady, "I'm going to take you somewhere peaceful-no phone calls, no guards, just us without anyone looking over our shoulders."

I turned to face him, a playful smile on my lips. "You keep saying that as if you can negotiate with fate." I chuckled at the thought.

"Maybe I already have," he said with a cheeky grin that made my heart flutter.

I couldn't help but smile back; he looked so dashing from the side. I could really picture him walking me down the aisle in just two weeks. Yet, I noticed his focus was fixed on the rearview mirror, and there was a seriousness etched on his face.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, a hint of concern creeping in.

"Nothing I can't handle," he replied, glancing at me, attempting to maintain that charming smile.

I followed his gaze to the mirror, then I stole another look outside, spotting nothing unusual except for a sleek black Mercedes that had been trailing us for quite some time. The playful warmth in my chest faded slightly, curiosity stirred within me.

"Is that car..." I began to voice my concern, but he interrupted sharply,

"The car isn't speeding up... I can't steer it any longer."

His heart thundered against his chest as the vehicle lurched violently to the side. The steering wheel quaked in his grasp, refusing to respond to his frantic maneuvers. A wave of panic washed over him-the dashboard flickered ominously, the engine howled fiercely, and no matter how he pressed the brake, the car only sped up.

He slammed his foot down on the pedal, desperate yet ineffective. The tires screamed against the pavement, and plumes of smoke billowed as he fought for control. Gritting his teeth, he strained against the wheel, his knuckles turning white-but this car had slipped from his command. It was being guided by an unseen force.

As he extended his hands to grab his phone from the dashboard, it slipped from his grip when the car suddenly veered again. I swiftly snatched it up.

"What should I do?" I pleaded, my mind racing.

"Call Roman!" he shouted, still wrestling with the steering.

I was overwhelmed, struggling to comprehend the chaos unfolding around us.

The phone rang twice without any answer.

"Oh no! Not today," he muttered quietly, but I caught his words.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words eluded me. Growing up in the Sicilian Mafia for 24 years has taught me to be ready for the worst, but now that I'm facing reality, I realize that all those lessons are easier said than done.

"The black car is still tailing us, Andrian. Are we being pursued? What's wrong with it? Has it been hacked?" I blurted out in one breath.

"Yes, I've lost control of the vehicle; that black Mercedes behind us has taken over. Just stay calm, Luci." He said, though his face was etched with worry, he still managed to force a smile.

How can he find the strength to smile in a moment like this?

He wrestled with the steering wheel, his arms straining until they ached, his foot pounding on the brakes repeatedly, but the car wouldn't obey.