Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
VIVIANA
Twelve hours after falling asleep in Luciano’s arms, I step off a helicopter without him.
When I first saw the aircraft waiting on the roof of Luc’s building, I tried to protest. I’d never ridden in a helicopter before, and it wasn’t something I planned on starting today, but Luc insisted. After we’d been so easily tracked and followed the previous morning, he wouldn’t take any chances. I relented.
It’s a new experience for me—having someone that wants to take care of me and keep me safe. I’m trying to let him, even though some foreign pain split my chest as soon as the helicopter’s blades began whirling and my husband became a speck of darkness on the roof. Twenty minutes later, the pilot lowered us to the landing pad outside of Luc’s Bedford home. Your home, too, I remind myself. He said he wants you to stay.
Lex, who hopped off the aircraft first, offers me a hand. My legs feel like jelly, and I have a distinct urge to drop to the concrete and kiss the solid ground beneath me, but something catches my eye first.
Someone.
Allegra freakin’ Venturi stands in the lawn by the house, hands clasped elegantly in front of her. Two guards flank her. They resemble the Secret Service more than mere bodyguards. We haven’t crossed paths— thank God —since that disastrous dinner party. What the hell is she doing here?
Judging by the cold, hard lines on my mother-in-law’s shrew-like face, she isn’t happy to see me. You and me both, witch.
I muster my best, saccharine smile and hike up the bright blue workout leggings I threw on in a rush this morning. With Lex on my tail, I bite the bullet.
“Allegra!” I call, slipping as much happiness into my voice as possible. I’m certain she can see right through it. “How kind of you to stop by to welcome me home.”
Of course, the idea that she merely came this morning to say hello is about as believable as seeing a pig fly, and I have no doubt she’ll set the record straight in three… two…
“Yes, well,” she waves a hand in the air, “I heard about what happened yesterday. I wanted to come by and check on you.”
My brow shoots up. “Oh, that’s actually really nice of—”
“And to tell you that you never should’ve drawn so much attention to yourself at the nightclub the night before!” She hisses, and all of my surprise at her previous kindness drains away.
Here is the woman I know and loathe.
I grind my teeth together and take a deep, steadying breath. “How did you know that Luc and I went to a nightclub two nights ago?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, my husband may not attend every meeting or make every decision, but he is still the don, and I am his wife. There’s very little I do not know. Such as the fact that I know you did not go to the nightclub with my son.” Allegra takes a small step forward. “You showed up—against his wishes, I’m sure—and threw yourself at the masses like a slut!”
Despite myself, I flinch. I’ve been called many things in my life, but never a slut. I know it’s not true, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from stinging.
“You are a disgrace to the Venturi name,” she seethes. “Elenora would never behave in such a way. She understood the role of a good wife.”
The bodyguards behind her shift on their feet, and I’m vaguely aware of Lex stepping closer to my side. The burly man places a hand on the back of my elbow, murmuring something about heading inside. I’ll have to remember to thank him for trying to defuse the situation later. Right now, I refuse to cower in Allegra’s shadow.
I swallow, clasping my hands into fists at my sides. My fingernails dig deep into my palms, the pain a welcome distraction. I lift my chin and cock a brow.
“Are you finished?”
Her eyes harden as my indifference lands its blow. She wants to see me hurt. She wants to break me. When a cruel, cold smile twists her features, I know she has yet to wield her final strike.
“You’re not good enough for him,” she whispers, shaking her head like the entire situation is a damn shame. “He deserved an equal. A queen. Not some floozy without a shred of respect for the famiglia. ”
My chest tightens, and it’s a struggle to keep my face impassive. She can call me whatever meaningless name she wants, but questioning my worthiness… It hurts because they’re true.
I swallow. “No one forced Luciano to marry me.”
“You’re right. But he and his father were so convinced that stronger ties to the Outfit would be worth it.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles, and the sound drips with disdain for their decision. “Now, he is stuck with you until you bear him an heir.”
He told me he wants me to stay, I want to shout at her, but I won’t fall for her trap. She’s baiting me.
“Maybe I’ll decide to stay a bit longer,” I coo, shooting her a smile sharper than a knife. “Since it’s clear you like me so much.”
I swear one of the guards behind her chokes on a laugh, and I revel in that small sense of triumph. Still, Allegra Venturi won’t leave without the last word. Of course she won’t. I feel like I’m on the final level of a video game, combating the ultimate boss that just never seems to die.
She barks a harsh laugh. “My son won’t keep you for long. He’s already sent you away from his side, hasn’t he?” She gestures to the helicopter behind me, proving her point. “You’re an embarrassment and a distraction. He’s lucky you didn’t get him killed yesterday.”
Every muscle lining my spine pulls taut. Anger bubbles in my blood, and, for the first time, I allow my indifferent mask to fall away. Taking a step forward, I try to emanate the same glare I’ve seen on Luc’s face a handful of times—a look that promises violence.
She has the common sense to shift backward, just an inch, but it’s all I need.
Before I do something I’ll regret, like slapping the botox right out of her forehead, I turn my attention to the two stoic guards behind her. Unease scrawls across their features, and it worsens when I speak to them directly. “Please take my mother-in-law home. She clearly isn’t feeling well and needs a nap.”
Lex, who I’m certain has never truly laughed in his entire life, snorts. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s turned the opposite direction, hand over his mouth, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter.
Allegra’s cheeks flame red, and, for a moment, I think she might explode. At the very least, I expect smoke to fume from her ears.
As if they can also sense the encroaching meltdown, one of her guards steps forward and extends a hand to rest on her arm, intending to lead her away. “Mrs. Venturi?”
“Do not touch me!” She screeches, turning on her obscenely tall heel and marching away. She grumbles and mutters obscenities in Italian that I don’t fully understand.
Lex and I watch her go, and I release a long, shuddering breath when she finally disappears around the edge of the house.
“Are we certain she’s human? Isn’t there a faint possibility that she crawled up from the pits of hell and should be haunting a Raggedy Ann doll right now?” I’m not entirely joking, and my voice shakes from the intense confrontation.
To my surprise, Lex places his hand on my back, directly between my shoulder blades. “I’m sorry that happened, Viviana.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.” He shoots me an unconvinced look, and I shimmy away from his touch and start toward the back patio. “I’m fine. Promise. Let’s go inside. I want to see everyone.”
Despite my words, with every step I take back toward the house, Allegra’s cruel allegations ring through my mind, and doubt festers where I’d only just begun to hope.
Later that night, I lounge in bed with Biggie next to me. We’re in Luc’s side of the suite, nestled beneath covers that smell of him—clean and minty. I didn’t plan to sleep here tonight, but Biggie kept whining at the bathroom door until I opened it for him. He jumped in Luc’s bed immediately, but I also didn’t stop him.
Truthfully, I find comfort in Luc’s private space. After sleeping beside him for the last few nights in the city, it felt strange to sleep in my own bed again. And, admittedly, Allegra’s scalding words from earlier still weigh heavy on my shoulders. Being able to bury my nose in his pillow and inhale his familiar scent calms the tight, twisting feeling in my gut, even for a moment.
Of course, word spread like wildfire across the estate that I took on Allegra Venturi and lived to tell the tale. Mrs. Ajello and Carlo tried to cheer me up with specially baked treats and a new one-thousand piece puzzle, but they couldn’t do much to quell the festering doubt. Nonetheless, I was grateful for the distractions.
Now, as I cuddle with Biggie in Luc’s bed, I distract myself with a heated trivia match against some fifty-six year old woman on my phone. She’s just finished kicking my ass for the third round in a row when a text comes through.
It’s not a number I recognize, but my pulse quickens when I tap on it and see a familiar name at the end of the message.
Unknown: I heard what happened with my mother. Are you okay? - Luc
I should’ve known that Lex wouldn’t keep the unfortunate encounter to himself. Or, perhaps Allegra chose to inform her son of our verbal clash herself. She probably wanted to get ahead of the narrative.
My blood pressure spikes, and I type my response.
Me: Who told you? Lex or Allegra?
I find myself watching the screen in anticipation as he reads my message and three little dots form, indicating that he’s typing.
Luc: Lex. From what he told me, my mother turned tail and ran after you dealt with her. I doubt she’ll want to relive the experience.
I almost smile.
Me: Just so you know, she drew first blood.
Luc: I heard. I also heard that you handled her well. Are you okay?
My smile falls. Am I okay?
Yes, I suppose I am, though I’d be lying if I said her words didn’t still haunt me. It’s not like I don’t already know my immense inadequacy for a man like Luc, but hearing another person say it out loud—and the woman that gave him life, no less—won’t be so easy to recover from.
Me: Peachy.
He reads my message a moment later. The three dots appear and disappear several times before another text comes through.
Luc: Somehow I don’t believe you… How is Biggie?
Some of the tension drains from my shoulders, and I decide to show him rather than tell him. I switch on the phone’s camera and lean over to snap a selfie with our dog. The brindle mutt has both of his eyes closed in the picture, but I’m smiling wide enough for the both of us.
I analyze the photo for a minute or two longer than necessary before deeming it acceptable to send to my husband. I forward it to Luc and stare eagerly at the bottom of the screen for any sign that he’s seen it. Again, it only takes half a minute for him to respond.
Luc: Lucky bastard.
Me: Me or the dog?
Luc: Both. Also, is that my bed?
Laughter tumbles from my mouth, and I snuggle deeper into his pillows, enjoying this far more than anyone should ever enjoy a text conversation. I had friends in Florence, but none that I’d stay up at night to message.
Me: Maybe... It’s your turn, by the way.
Luc: It’s my turn for what?
Me: To send a selfie. I need one for your contact photo.
He reads my message, and I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
After ten minutes pass, acute disappointment pricks at me. If he didn’t want to take a picture, he could’ve just said so. Perhaps he fell asleep. Maybe he’s at the nightclub again and his latest business associate just walked into the booth. Maybe someone else distracted him…
No, I warn myself. Don’t think like that. You’ll only go crazy.
I flip back to my trivia app, where Doreen from New Mexico has been waiting for me to finish our latest round. I’ve barely managed to read the first question when my phone buzzes, and my heart leaps into my throat.
Without waiting another second, I open the text and immediately burst into a fit of giggles. To anyone passing in the hallway, I probably sound like a madwoman. Poor Biggie lifts his head, blinking the sleep from his big brown eyes in concern.
Just as I requested, Luc sent me a picture, but it’s the worst selfie I’ve ever seen. Only the lower quarter of his face is visible, highlighting his strong jawline, and he’s clearly not smiling. A majority of the photo shows his neck, chest, and the first two rows of abs lining his abdomen. He’s lying in the same bed that we’d shared last night, and pleasure unfurls its long fingers throughout my body at the sight.
After my laughter dies down, I take a moment to truly admire my husband. He’s only grown more handsome in the weeks I’ve known him. I once likened him to Michelangelo’s David, but a closer examination of his torso proves that his body more closely resembles that of Laocoon and His Sons.
Agonizingly beautiful. Boasting of unparalleled strength. Masculine perfection.
My skin grows warm, and I wiggle beneath the sheets to satisfy the sudden tingling that flows straight to my center.
I flip onto my stomach, and the added friction of the mattress beneath my hips helps me focus long enough to conjure up a reply.
Me: Luc, this is a thirst trap. Very ~fuck boy~ thing of you to do. The least you could’ve done was smile!
He sends back a laughing emoji—I didn’t even think he knew how to do emojis—before the text bubble appears again.
Luc: You can see me smile on Friday. We’re going to a party at my parent’s.
Me: Great, another chance for your mother to kill me… Please tell me it’s not another dinner party.
Luc: It’s not another dinner party. She’ll be so busy hosting other guests, she won’t even look at us.
Thank God.
Luc: Wear something formal, but not white. I trust your mother sent you something in that monstrous pile of lace and lingerie that will work. You know, the one you unpacked in our foyer…
I roll my eyes at the jibe. I’m certain my mother sent a dress for every occasion, but I haven’t properly sorted through that mess. I’ll probably just ask Mrs. Ajello to pick something out from me that she deems suitable. She’ll know what to expect at this dreaded party better than me.
Me: So bossy. Fine. Any other requests, darling husband?
Luc: Just for you to stay safe.
My heart somersaults, and I feel the overbearing urge to cry. After years of no one caring about my safety, it only takes a single ‘be safe’ to reduce me to a choked-up mess.
Me: You too.
This, I decide, is what it must feel like to be loved. I don’t presume to think that Luc loves me. Of course not. But, if he did , I imagine it would feel like this. Exciting and warm and terrifying, all at once.
It’s that sentiment, coupled with a dash of courage, that guides my fingers to send one final text. I press send before I can stop myself.
Me: I miss you.