Accidental Bride

Aria Voss slammed her palm on the conference table so hard the fake orchids trembled. “Two thousand dollars? For a bakery that’s baked three generations of my family’s bread?”

The six suits across from her froze, faces blank as fresh dough. The lone woman, some VP with a pearl necklace tight enough to choke. “Miss Voss, please sit. Our valuation reflects the current”

“Current disaster?” Aria cut in, voice sharp. “You mean the one you caused by lowballing me like I’m selling a garage sale relic?”

They exchanged glances. One guy cleared his throat, the fake sympathy practically dripping. “Given the debts, the location”

“Spare me.” She snatched her folder, papers crinkling under white-knuckled fingers. “You want to take Grandma’s place, flip it into condos or whatever, and pretend you’re doing me a favor. I’m done.”

She pointed at each one like she was naming sins. “You haven’t smiled once. You look like you hate breathing. And you” she jabbed at the sympathetic one“your pity is so transparent I could read the newspaper through it.”

Silence. Thick, offended silence.

Aria flicked them the middle finger, spun on her heel, and stormed out before anyone could sputter a reply.

Outside the glass doors, her best friend Lila was leaning against the wall, scrolling her phone. One look at Aria’s face and Lila winced. “That bad?”

“Worse.” Aria kept walking. Lila jogged to catch up as they hit the elevator, then the parking garage.

The old blue hatchback waited like a loyal dog, duct tape on the mirror, bumper held on with hope. Aria slid behind the wheel, exhaled hard.

Lila leaned on the open window. “Bar? You look like you need tequila and bad decisions.”

“Meet me there. Call Jax too. I’m buying the first round.”

Her phone buzzed before she even started the engine.

Priscilla (staff): Oven 2 just died. Smoke everywhere. Sorry boss.

Aria smacked her forehead against the wheel. “Of course.”

The Rusty Anchor was dim and quiet, thank God. Warm lights, scarred wood, that familiar mix of spilled beer and nostalgia. Jax and Lila were already at their corner booth, a cold beer waiting.

Jax slid it over. “Talk.”

“They offered two grand for the whole place.” Aria took a long swallow. “Like Grandma’s legacy is worth pocket change.”

Lila’s eyes went wide. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” Aria drained half the bottle. “Mom’s giving me one week before she sells. One week to magic money out of thin air.”

Jax leaned forward, voice low. “So… what now? You’ve been turned down by every bank.”

Aria rubbed her temples. “One last shot. I applied to Moretti Enterprises.”

Lila choked on her drink. “The Moretti Enterprises? As in Luca Moretti, the guy everyone whispers about like he’s the boogeyman?”

Jax kicked her shin under the table. “Don’t say it out loud.”

“It’s just rumors,” Aria said, trying to sound braver than she felt. “They invest in small businesses. Real rescues. I sent the proposal yesterday.”

Before they could argue, her phone lit up.

MORETTI ENTERPRISES: Miss Voss, your application is under review. Please attend a presentation tomorrow, 9:00 AM sharp. Confirmation required.

Aria squealed loud. Heads turned. She didn’t care. “They want me! Tomorrow!”

Lila grinned despite herself. “Holy crap. That’s huge.”

Jax raised his glass. “To not losing the bakery.”

They clinked. Aria hugged them both, grabbed her bag. “I’m heading home to polish everything. I’ll cab it, haven’t drunk enough to face-plant.”

Lila frowned. “You sure? Luca Moretti’s… intense. Like, scary intense.”

“I’ve got my pitch, my numbers, my heart on a platter. I’ll be fine.” Aria kissed her cheek. “Don’t jinx me.”

Outside, the night air hit cool. She tapped for a ride, thumb hovering over confirm.

A shadow moved fast, someone snatched her purse clean off her shoulder.

“Hey!” Aria yelled, bolting after him into the narrow alley beside the bar.

The guy was skinny, black hoodie, panicked eyes behind cheap glasses. He sprinted, but Aria was faster, years of dodging hot trays and chasing delivery bikes.

She tackled him at the far end. They hit the ground hard. Her purse skidded free. She scrambled up, fists clenched. “Give it"

But the man who rose wasn’t the thief.

Taller. Broader. Black coat, rain-slicked hair, eyes like midnight under the streetlight. He looked down at her like she was a minor inconvenience who’d just interrupted something important.

The real thief whimpered from the ground, clutching his arm.

Aria blinked. “Wait you’re not”

Footsteps echoed. Another man emerged from deeper shadows, dragging a third figure limp, bloody, shirt soaked dark. He dropped the body at the boss’s feet with a wet thud.

“Boss,” the newcomer said, voice flat. “He talked. Then he stopped.”

Luca Moretti, if the rumors were true, He didn’t even glance at the corpse. His gaze stayed locked on Aria.

She backed up a step. Her purse lay between them, untouched.

The second man tossed it toward her feet like trash.

Aria’s heart slammed against her ribs. “This… this is a mistake. I thought he stole my”

Luca tilted his head, studying her. No anger. No surprise. Just cold calculation.

“Identify him,” he said to his man, nodding at the bleeding heap.

The man knelt, yanked the dead guy’s head up by the hair. Face battered, eyes glassy.

Aria’s stomach lurched. She knew that face.

Her estranged father. The man who’d walked out years ago. The one she’d stopped looking for.

Luca’s eyes flicked to her. Something shifted in them, recognition? Interest?

“You know him,” he said. Not a question.

Aria swallowed. “I… he’s...”

Before she could finish, Luca stepped closer. Close enough she smelled rain, leather, and something metallic.

“Tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Nine sharp. Don’t be late.”

He turned, coat flaring, and walked away. His men followed, leaving the body like forgotten garbage.

Aria stood frozen in the alley, purse at her feet, dead father staring up at nothing.

Her meeting wasn’t a lifeline anymore.

It was a summons.

And she had no idea what she’d just walked into.