13. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Elise
Lorenzo Pasquino is dead.
This not only means that someone assassinated the Capo but that Luca has been forced into the position he was patiently waiting for his father to pass to him. Since that night, Luca has changed drastically. His personality has shifted inward, rarely speaking. He only ever does so to pass off a command. He doesn’t share meals with me, nor a bed. He’s completely lost himself in grief, and I am not equipped to bring him out of it. Not when I feel the way I do about him and his father. Not when this arrangement is one that neither of the men who created it is here to see fall apart.
Luca and I are both orphans now. We were both forced into that role. It’s ironic, sitting front row at his father’s funeral when I was banned from my own father’s. The tense emotions that hang in the air are more suffocating than the humid aftermath of the rain. Luca sits next to me, rigid with unreleased emotion, as he watches his father’s casket lower into the ground. But I know he is broken from it. He is alone like me. I slowly lift my hand, grabbing his in support as he goes through one of the most challenging moments of his life. I don’t know how else to comfort him. I hated his father. And I’m glad the man is dead. I have no words of encouragement or comfort for what a good man he was.
In my eyes, he was the closest thing to the devil.
I myself have retreated inward, hoping to avoid my husband in every sense of the word. Luca, the medical magician that he is, missed any vital organs when shooting through me to incapacitate his enemy. Physically, I was never in any danger. My wounds have already begun to heal, and I can move around better than when it first happened. But the emotional impact is still there, along with physical pain. I now know he is capable of anything when it comes to him and victory. I am not an obstacle that can be used as leverage. He’s shown everyone that.
Luca’s reign will probably be worse than his father’s. And now that the target has moved to Luca’s back, I know things will become more difficult for both of us in the future, especially if my family has anything to do with this. Luca has already suspected them of several problems he’s had since our marriage. He sees the Trovolis as insects beneath the Pasquino empire. And he is determined to wipe their stain from the face of the earth. However, with the addition of his father’s death to those problems, I don’t know where I stand in that plan.
Once the funeral ends, we go to Luca’s father’s home for the wake. He was a man who enjoyed luxury much like his son, the interior of his home as extravagant as the exterior. I can’t help but wonder as people flock through the home, who some of them are. I recognize some of the important societal figureheads who also attended our wedding—once again proving the power of the Pasquino empire. Luca’s father’s clients have now become his, as has the power.
It’s a terrifying thing to witness.
As I watch Luca speak to these strangers, I feel a chill slowly settling onto my flesh. He has seamlessly stepped into the leadership role his father left behind. I always knew he carried an air of authority about him. But watching the amount of power his father had drift to him in the span of a few hours is mind-numbing. These people now serve him with even more resolve, flocking to be at his beck and call should he need them.
I plaster on a fake smile as I watch the latest group of constituents leave, when Luca breaks through my thoughts.
“I can see that smile is fake from a mile away. Try grinning at most,” Luca grumbles next to me. My smile slowly drops, and I look into my glass for strength.
“I’m only trying to be supportive,” I murmur.
Now Luca looks at me. His expression is murderous as his eyes roam over me, sizing me up before he speaks.
“Supportive,” he scoffs, “I know you’re reveling in this.”
I flinch from his tone. He hates me right now. And there’s nothing I can say to deter that hatred hours after he buried his father. I slowly breathe in a deep sigh before facing Luca.
“Yes, I wasn’t the biggest fan of your father. But I know what it feels like to lose one,” I say.
Luca studies me, his eyes narrowing. His gaze shifts to the glass in my hand, and he gently pulls it from me before speaking.
“Your father had no love for you. He was a tyrant who did awful things to secure his place. He harmed people everywhere he went, dragging those who wanted nothing to do with him down. Do not compare our grief, Elise. We have not lost the same thing,” he growls.
I blink in shock, unable to form a sentence from the sheer hatred of his words, but he turns away from me before I can respond to continue mingling among the crowd. It takes me a moment to realize my chest aches from his words.
They hurt.
I didn’t think Luca could make me hurt emotionally. His words and opinions don’t matter. But those words cut deep, forcing me to look at the life I left behind. He is right. My father never had any love for me. My father’s death was confusing because it was Luca who dealt it out, but even in his final moments, my father never expressed affection to me. Only disappointment that my marriage ruined his plans. Luca and his father, though I despise them, had a deeper connection. His father loved his son. They conversed about things other than the business. They embraced upon greeting. And Luca’s father rarely missed an opportunity to express his pride. He was a boisterous man, his favorite accomplishment being his son.
My breath catches in my throat, forcing me to realize I am crying in the middle of the wake. I hastily wipe my tears, looking around the room for a familiar face. Romelo, Luca’s right hand, is standing near the door, his cold eyes watching the room intently as I approach.
“Tell my husband I went home,” I say.
I hear Romelo calling to me as I make my way out of the house, but I ignore him. I can only think of getting away as my chest brings on emotions that I thought I had stored deep down. But Luca’s words have forced me to face the new reality.
It’s just Luca and me now. And we both don’t know how to cope with that.
I don’t know what I expected from Luca after leaving without permission. But he hasn’t returned home, giving me plenty of time to consider my future. As I walk around my home, I see now more than ever how impersonal it is. Sure, I chose the furniture and colors of the walls, but the portraits that hang are only from our wedding day. Luca and I have no fond memories together. Our marriage has been holding on by a thread, that thread being Lorenzo Pasquino. Now that he’s dead, there’s no clear vision for our future.
Luca can’t even stand the sight of me.
I silently make my way into Luca’s office. It looks much less intimidating without him in it. I shift my attention to the cushions. They look innocent by themselves. No one would know Luca held me down to watch as he played with a man’s life. You wouldn’t know Luca made me sit in the corner with my violin, playing as people breathed their last breaths. And you definitely wouldn’t know the number of times Luca took me against that desk. This office is so grand, and yet it holds so much trauma.
I chuckle aloud to myself.
It never crossed my mind to think about how incompatible Luca and I are. And now that both of our fathers are out of the picture, what’s keeping me here? What’s forcing me to ensure this marriage works? It’s been evident from the first week that it’s just waiting to implode on itself. And if Luca’s words today aren’t proof enough of that imminent implosion, then I don’t know what else is. As I look out the window of Luca’s office, my mind wanders to places it’s been trained not to. Why should I have to take the things that I do from Luca? What has he done for me other than cause pain and strife in my life? And now that our parents are dead and relations between our families are once again strained, why should we remain together? So I can be a sitting duck when Luca finally decides to rid himself of me?
No. No more.
I walk around Luca’s desk, but the drawer is locked, making me laugh. He doesn’t trust me—he never did. That much is obvious. But I am a patient woman. I am patient enough to plan a future apart from this one—a future without Luca Pasquino.
The sound of the door closing pulls my attention, and I quickly make my way out of Luca’s office. I hear him moving around in the kitchen, and I attempt to tiptoe past the arch leading into the kitchen quietly. As I pass, I pause to see him sitting at the bar with a glass of whiskey. He’s facing slightly away from me with his head in his hands, his shirt messily unbuttoned as he sits silently at the bar. I continue to watch him, my eyes widening when his shoulders tremble slightly, followed by a soft sob.
He’s crying.
The world seems to fall away as I watch him, alone and vulnerable, crying over the death of his father. He looks small, the walls he built up to protect himself are nonexistent as he releases his emotions where he feels he is alone. I take a small step back, not wanting to pull his attention. I fight with myself not to walk in there and share in his grief. That isn’t my role any longer. I am not going to play the part of his wife. He clearly let me know how he felt about that today. And I won’t be around when he decides he no longer wants me in that role.
I want my freedom. And no amount of tears that Luca Pasquino sheds will change that.