104. Luke

Chapter 104

Luke

My Uber driverturns in his seat to look at me. “You sure this is the right place?”

I let out a laugh, not offended. “Pretty sure.”

I may be dressed up in a black suit, black loafers, and black button-down shirt—with the top two buttons open—but I’m in the back of a fucking Honda, and I’m pretty sure that’s a Maserati SUV waiting in the line of cars that are idling in front of the massive Mazzanti building.

We watch the driver get out of the expensive-as-fuck SUV and walk around to the back.

“You want me to get out and open your door?” My driver lifts a brow.

I smooth my hands down my pants and shake my head, then straighten my green silk pocket square.

“Nah, man. I…”

The Maserati driver is at the rear passenger door and mostly blocked by the vehicle, but when he steps back, a head of dark glossy hair peeks above the roof. Big curls shine under the bright lights set up around the red carpet.

I hold my breath as the woman steps away from the car toward the person directing people down the carpet.

She steps into view.

Something big—and important—settles in my chest. Because it’s her.

It’s my fucking wife.

And she doesn’t just look like a princess.

She looks like a fucking queen.