The DeLuca villa had never been louder. Music pulsed through the grand hall, champagne bubbled over crystal flutes, and laughter spilled into the marble corridors like champagne foam. For a family known more for blood feuds than balloon arches, this pre-wedding celebration was uncharacteristically festive, chaotic even.
Aria Valencia stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, a shoe dangling from one hand and a glass of prosecco in the other. Her dark hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, catching the golden glow of the chandeliers. She surveyed the room with a mix of amusement and exasperation, her green eyes scanning the crowd of DeLucas and their allies.
"This," she declared to Sofia, Luca's cousin and self-appointed maid of honor, "is not what I meant when I said I wanted something low-key."
Sofia grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she adjusted the sapphire necklace at her throat. "Darling, this is low-key. You should have seen Luca's bachelor party."
