25. Luca
25
LUCA
I give Maria time to see the doctor, clean up, and rest. But when Luca steps into his office to talk to the guys, I can't help myself. I head down the hall to the guest room she's staying in.
The moment I see Maria, my heart breaks. Her curls are wild around her face, brown eyes haunted as she stares at nothing from her place on one of Luca's guest beds. She's still beautiful - all long limbs and curves - but there's something fragile in the way she holds herself.
"Maria?" I keep my voice soft. "I'm Skye."
Her gaze shifts to me, a hint of recognition crossing her features. "Luca's..." She trails off, uncertain how to label me.
"Something like that." I move closer. "I thought, if you were going to be here for a while, we could make this room more comfortable for you." It's what I would want, and I thought maybe doing something would be nice for both of us.
Within an hour, I have Bas and Mickey hauling in plush armchairs while Carmine brings up tea service. The men don't question my directions - they've gotten used to me over the past weeks. I arrange fresh flowers, stack books on the bedside table, and hang gauzy curtains that let in light while maintaining privacy.
"You don't have to do this." Maria's voice is barely above a whisper.
"I want to." I sit on the edge of her bed. "This room needed a woman's touch anyway. All these men have terrible taste in decor."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips.
I'm adjusting a throw blanket when familiar footsteps sound behind me. Luca fills the doorway, ice blue eyes taking in the transformed space. His presence commands attention, makes the air feel thicker.
"The boys said you've been giving orders." His tone reveals nothing, but I catch the slight curl at the corner of his mouth.
"Someone has to class up this place." I toss him a challenging look. "Your cousin deserves better than bachelor pad chic."
He moves closer, each step deliberate. His hand finds my waist, and he presses cool mint-flavored lips to my temple. The gesture is possessive, tender in a way that makes my pulse jump. When I glance at Maria, I catch something knowing in her expression.
"Thank you," she mouths silently.
I squeeze her hand, already planning what else she'll need. Luca pushes off the doorframe, crossing to sit beside Maria on the bed. His movements are measured, controlled, but there's something softer in the way he touches her shoulder. "You should rest."
"I'm tired of resting." Maria's voice cracks. "I close my eyes and I see-"
"I know." Luca's words are quiet, heavy with understanding. He tucks a wild curl behind her ear, the gesture so gentle it makes my chest ache. "But you're safe now. No one will touch you again."
The promise carries steel beneath its velvet surface. I've seen what Luca does to people who cross him, who hurt what's his. The tenderness he shows Maria only emphasizes the ruthlessness he's capable of.
"Stay with her?" Luca catches my eye as he stands. When I nod, he brushes past me, his hand skimming my lower back. The touch sends electricity down my spine.
Maria waits until his footsteps fade before meeting my gaze. "He's different with you. Sometimes I catch glimpses of that little boy again." She shakes her head. "After Aunt Sofia died, it was like watching a light go out. He just... stopped. Stopped laughing, stopped feeling. But when he looks at you..."
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond to the weight of her words. The Luca she describes feels like a ghost, a shadow of someone I'll never know.
Maria's voice grows stronger as we sort through a delivery of clothes I'd ordered for her. "He used to laugh all the time, you know." She runs her fingers over a silk blouse.
I pause in hanging dresses, turning back to look at her. She's lost in a memory.
"There was this time," Maria continues, "when we were maybe six? Seven? He convinced me to help him steal cookies from the kitchen. We got caught, of course, but instead of being mad, Aunt Sofia made us help her bake a fresh batch." Her eyes go distant with the memory. "Luca had flour all over his face, and he couldn't stop giggling."
Maria pulls a worn leather album from a nearby table, fingers tracing the edges with reverence. "I grabbed this before Bas showed me to my room." She swallows hard, and I don't ask from where. But I do wonder where all of Luca's childhood memories are stored. "I thought it would be nice to have some warm memories to look at."
The first photo shows a small boy with ice blue eyes and wild dark hair, beaming at the camera while holding up a trophy. His smile lights up his whole face, dimples I've never seen appearing in his cheeks.
"First place in his karate tournament." Maria's voice warms. "Aunt Sofia was so proud. She made this ridiculous banner and everything."
Page after page reveals a Luca I can't reconcile with the man I know. Here he is splashing in a pool, there he's dressed as Batman for Halloween. Each image shows that same brilliant smile, that pure joy I've never witnessed.
"This one's my favorite." Maria points to a photo of Luca and a stunning woman with his same dark hair. They're dancing in what looks like a kitchen, flour coating their clothes. The woman - Sofia - has her head thrown back in laughter while young Luca grins up at her.
My vision blurs. I blink rapidly, but a tear escapes anyway. The happiness in these photos feels like a physical ache in my chest.
"Skye." Luca's voice cuts through the room like ice.
I startle, looking up to find him frozen in the doorway. His gaze locks onto the album in my lap, and for the first time since I've known him, his careful mask slips.
The change is subtle - a slight parting of lips, a barely perceptible tremor in his hands - but on Luca, it's like watching an earthquake. His eyes fix on his mother's face, and something raw and wounded flashes across his features before he can hide it.
"Luca-" Maria starts, but he's already turning away, his shoulders rigid with tension.
I catch his wrist before he can leave. His pulse races beneath my fingers, betraying the storm behind his controlled exterior. For a long moment, he stays perfectly still, caught between fleeing and staying.
Finally, he sinks onto the bed beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. His fingers brush the edge of the photo, hovering over his mother's smile like he's afraid to touch it. A soft expression crosses his face I've never seen before.
I'm glad Maria pulled it out of him. I'm glad they have each other.
The next morning, I find Maria in the kitchen, wrapped in one of the cashmere sweaters I'd ordered. Her curls are tamed into a neat bun, and she's already applied light makeup. The sight makes my chest warm - these small acts of self-care are victories.
"Want to come to the boutique with me today?" I pour us both coffee. "It might be good to get out of the house."
She hesitates, fingers tightening around her mug. "I don't know if-"
"Ace and Mickey will be with us." I slide her a croissant. "And I could use the company. These boys aren't exactly fashion experts."
"I heard that." Mickey appears in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space. "I have excellent taste."
"You're wearing cargo pants with dress shoes."
His mock offense pulls a quiet laugh from Maria - the sound feels like sunshine breaking through clouds.
At the boutique, Jazz and Kendra immediately adopt Maria into our circle. They don't ask about the marks on her skin or why she needs guards - I'm sure they know. Instead, they pull her into their usual banter about upcoming collections and difficult customers.
"Try this." Jazz hands Maria a silk scarf in deep burgundy. "It'll bring out the warmth in your complexion."
While Maria examines herself in the mirror, I catch Ace watching from his post by the door. His usual stoic expression softens when Maria manages a real smile.
Days turn to weeks. Maria becomes a fixture at the boutique, her natural eye for fashion making her invaluable. She helps customers find perfect pieces, arranges window displays that draw crowds, and slowly rebuilds herself in this safe space we've created.
One afternoon, I'm organizing new inventory when I hear genuine laughter - Maria's doubled over while Kendra acts out a story about a particularly demanding client. The sound makes me pause, remembering that haunted look in her eyes when I first met her.
"You've done good here." Luca's voice startles me. He's materialized beside me, watching Maria through the stockroom doorway. His hand finds my waist, pulling me against his side. "With her. With all of this."
I lean into him, breathing in his cool mint scent. "She's strong. She just needed somewhere to remember that."
His fingers trace patterns on my hip, possessive and tender at once. "You've carved out your own territory." There's something like pride in his tone. "Even my men respect it."
I turn to face him, noting how his ice blue eyes track every movement. "Is that a problem?"
"No." He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "It's exactly where you belong."