4. Emilia
This is the most surreal thing I’ve ever experienced, rolling through the gates embedded in gray stone walls, sandwiched between Luca and his sister in the back seat. A handful of flashes go off on the other side of the tinted windows, making me flinch away.
It’s Luca’s attempt at comfort, but his hand he briefly places on my knee makes me flinch harder. “There’s been a lot of media lately,” he explains in a tight voice.
Now I remember what I saw on the news about increased violence and bloodshed between his family and the other one. What was the name again? I can’t remember, and trying to force myself to call up the memory only makes the throbbing ache in my head turn to something closer to pounding that makes my stomach churn. I don’t need to make things worse.
What would those photographers think if they knew I was being driven into the compound against my will? I don’t want this, any of it. My gut tells me Luca was telling the truth when he said this would be the safest place for me. I feel more secure now that I know it won’t be just the two of us. How bizarre is that? I would rather be in a household full of murderers than be alone with one.
But they can’t all be ruthless murderers. Guilia seems like a sweet girl. “Wait and see,” she chirps as our driver takes us down what’s closer to a boulevard than a driveway. “You’ll be feeling better in no time. And when all this war stuff is cleared up, we can go shopping again at Saks.”
The way she says it, it’s obvious she’s trying to jog my memory. When all I can do is offer a weak smile, I see the twinge of pain that etches itself in the lines over the bridge of her nose.
“Neither of you are going anywhere for the time being,” Luca reminds us. I’m sure there are women in this world who would find his commanding, no-nonsense tone sexy. It makes me gag a little.
I’m sure I had to be faking my feelings for him.
As much as he irritates and repulses me, I can imagine our time together wasn’t all a big sacrifice. When he keeps his mouth shut, it’s easy to melt a little in the heat from his strong physical presence. His cologne is spicy and masculine, leaving me resisting the urge to lean closer and indulge in the scent.
To think it’s been hours since my last dose of meds, yet I’m ready to curl up like a kitten and purr in his lap. All this because of a nice cologne and his rock-hard thigh pressed against mine. I won’t stand a chance while medicated. I can only hope he gives me time and space and doesn’t expect things to get physical. I could always fake my symptoms if I needed to—at least he seems respectful of that.
However, right now, I’m not faking it. When we emerge from the tall, stately trees lining both sides of the driveway, the enormous Italianate mansion in front of me is a little blurred. I try to blink it away, only the effect gets worse.
How much longer am I going to be like this?The question makes me grind my teeth against a frustrated whimper.
“What is it?” Luca looms over me, frowning with concern. Is it all pretend? I don’t think so. Then again, my head is about to split open, and there are currently two of him in front of me, so what do I know?
“I’m not feeling very well,” I confess. I’m sure it’s obvious, anyway.
His frown deepens. Dammit, he’s even handsome when he frowns. “I’ll take you straight to our house,” he decides. “You can always see Mama in the morning.”
“She’ll be so disappointed,” Guilia interjects.
“Let her be disappointed,” Luca growls out before one of the guards opens his door and lets a blast of cold air rush over us.
“It’s all right,” I insist. “I can at least say hi.” Because, for one thing, I’m already tired of him deciding what I can and can’t do. It’s obvious he’s used to getting his way and expects nothing else.
For another, the idea of us being alone together in his house makes my stomach twist into knots. I’ll do whatever I can to postpone the inevitable, even with my head in a vice the way it is now.
I want more than anything to be in a dark room but not if it means having him next to me in bed. It doesn’t matter how good he smells.
The house is sprawling, almost obscene, and exactly what I would expect from a mafia family. I don’t remember working on a case involving them, however, anyone who’s watched the local news in the past twenty years knows the name, Santoro. Here I am, about to walk into the home of the family’s leader.
When Luca touches a hand to my back as we climb the broad stone steps, I don’t shrug him off. It’s startling how weak I feel now. I was feeling strong at the hospital, but then I didn’t do much more than cross the room. My legs are trembling by the time we reach the massive front doors flanked by two armed men, and it isn’t the chill in the air that makes me shiver as we pass them on our way inside.
“Let’s sit down.” Luca steers me through the bright entry hall, the light from an overhead chandelier reflecting on the polished marble floors. I look around in both curiosity and wonder. So this is what blood money can buy.
The first room we reach when we’ve passed the sweeping staircase is soft, feminine, and full of roses. They relax me in an instant and somehow give me hope that there are actual human beings living here. Decent people, even if they do condone murder.
I need to stop thinking like this. I’ll end up getting myself killed if I’m not careful.
“I’ll let Mama know we’re here.” Guilia practically skips out of the room once Luca has me settled on a soft, deep sofa. It is such a relief to get off my feet and relax, even if there’s no hope of fully relaxing with Luca hovering over me. And there I was, thinking he might give me a little space to breathe when we were back in his family home instead of the hospital—like he’d feel a little more relaxed away from hospital staff, who might make the mistake of being friendly.
“We can keep this brief,” he tells me. As much as I don’t want to, I hear what sounds a lot like love in his voice. Affection, at least. Intimacy.
“I don’t want to be rude,” I counter. How bizarre this is, trying to be polite to the wife of a mafia don. “This is a nice room,” I add, leaning over a little to sniff the white roses arranged in a beautiful crystal bowl beside the sofa.
“You’ve been in here before,” he tells me as if that’s going to change things somehow.
“I don’t remember anything about it. I’m sorry.” Why do I feel like I should apologize? It’s not like any of this is my fault. He doesn’t look particularly disappointed, either.
Does he not want me to remember being here?
Did something bad happen in this room?
“Can I get you anything?” I’ve barely had time to process his question before he’s on his feet, ready to get something for me. There’s an almost frantic energy coming off him. I can imagine he’s used to taking charge of things, and it’s killing him to be helpless now.
“No, thank you.” I might find this cute if he were anybody else. He’s trying. I think he really means it. If only I could remember how I felt about him. I’m afraid to look at him for too long in case I get used to the habit of indulging in his dark eyes and razor-sharp jaw. What if I get my memory back one day, and I remember this was all part of an operation to infiltrate the family?
There are rapid footsteps in the hall before an older woman bursts into the room with her arms extended. “There she is!” she calls out, almost flying to the sofa.
Her face falls when I flinch away from her before I can help it. Her arms drop to her sides. “No, I’m sorry,” I tell her right away. “My brain is moving too slowly, and I have a little headache.”
“Oh, forgive me.” Her voice is soft now, heavy with concern. “I should have considered that. And you must be feeling overwhelmed, I imagine.”
That’s a word for it. I’m almost too stunned to speak, not knowing where to look or what to pay attention to. I don’t have the first damn clue of how things really are between this family and me. Who do I believe? Who do I trust?
Strangely, I want to trust her. It’s the whole warm, maternal thing she has going on. In the absence of my mother, she’s the next best thing. It shouldn’t surprise me that I’m longing for a little maternal comfort. It’s only natural I would want to believe her. Deep down inside, some part of me could remember her too. It seems like we had a nice relationship. There’s nothing fake about her.
“I am a little tired,” I admit. “I guess I lost some strength lying around all that time. You would think I would be rested and have energy, wouldn’t you?” Why am I trying to comfort this woman? I guess it’s because I sense she’s kind and loving, no matter who she married or gave birth to.
“She needs to rest.” Luca certainly has no problem taking the lead. He wasn’t throwing his weight around in the hospital to look like a big man. He doesn’t hesitate before pulling me to my feet and putting an arm around my waist like he’s going to lead me somewhere, making me stiffen in distaste at his familiar attitude.
His mother’s troubled expression tells me she sees the reaction his touch causes. She understands, and it makes her unhappy.
Could it be everything Luca told me was true? I really lived here. Are there people who care about me? Why? What could have changed in me to make this possible?
“Luca, caro mio, it could be Emilia would be better off staying alone in your house, at least for tonight.” She rises and places a hand on his arm. “Especially if she is not feeling well. She needs quiet after all that time spent in the hospital.” She wears a knowing smile when she turns to me, her kind eyes twinkling. “Just when you’ve finally begun to drift off, someone comes in to take your temperature.”
I could kiss her for this. “It was frustrating,” I agree, without looking at Luca. I don’t need to see the disappointment I’m sure his expression portrays.
“We will double the men at the house,” she assures Luca. “Emilia needs nothing but sleep now, and she won’t get that with you banging around like a bull in a China shop.” I have to give it to her. She’s good at handling him. She knows the right thing to say and how to say it. What might come off as an insult from anyone else is nothing but gentle, playful teasing.
Still, Luca’s dark eyes are full of regret and doubt when I finally get the nerve to meet his gaze. What did he think was going to happen? Was I supposed to beg him to take me home so we could be alone together?
“Triple the men,” he eventually grunts out. “And I am here if you need anything. Your phone is down at the house. My number is programmed in it.”
My phone. There I was, thinking I might never get it back. If he was hoping to score a little credit for keeping his word, I don’t mind giving it to him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I’ll walk you down.” He’s almost able to hold back a groan when I hesitate but not quite. “You have nothing to worry about. There’s something I need to discuss with you, that’s all.” It’s clear he’s annoyed, at the very least. I’m not giving him what he wants, like falling into his arms or something.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, only if you’re feeling up to it.” His mother takes my hand and pats it gently before Luca leads me from the room. “We’ll have a big dinner for you.”
“Thank you so much.” I sort of hate to leave her, not to mention Guilia. But her instincts were spot on. I need to be alone. My headache feels slightly better, and the blurred vision is no longer there, but who knows how long it will last.
Two armed men follow us out of the house and down the steps. “Take your time,” Luca urges. “Don’t tire yourself out.”
“I’ll be okay.” I’m not so sharp with him anymore. How can I be when he is so protective? It’s a little annoying, yet I’m starting to believe it comes from a good place.
“What is it you want to talk about?” I ask as we walk down a gravel path to a smaller house than the one we left, but one too big to be called a tiny dwelling or however they’re referred to. It’s definitely newer than the main home, with gray stone and oversized windows spread out over a single floor.
“Like I said, your phone is waiting for you inside,” he reminds me. “There’s something you need to know. You hadn’t yet told your parents about us. We were going to work out a plan for that together, you and I, while we were on vacation. We never got the chance.”
It makes sense. No matter my reasons for being with Luca, it’s not like I could tell my parents without things getting very tricky and fast. I’m having a hard time believing I ever had anything to do with him. It would be ten times worse for my parents, especially Mom.
“They should be back soon from their trip,” I offer, mentally crossing my fingers. “Where were they going again?” I whisper, pretending I don’t remember.
He jumps straight in. “It was supposed to be a tour of the Outback. Three months, if I remember correctly.”
He’s right. They spent a year planning that trip, anticipating and bringing it up at every opportunity. No way I could’ve forgotten that. And he knew about it. Another bit of proof.
“But they came back already,” he continues. “You didn’t know how to tell them. On top of that, there was your resignation.”
Reaching the house, Luca comes to a stop before turning to me. Solar lights cast a glow across his finely chiseled features. Between that and the moonlight, a girl could swoon. Of course, that could also be the exhaustion threatening to take my legs out from under me.
“They don’t know about that, either,” he explains with a sigh. “I thought you should know before you reach out to your mom or dad.”
“I guess this is another secret I’ll be keeping for a while.” I run a hand over my head, shuddering at what I feel. I’ve never been vain and have been known to go months without a trim, too busy, distracted by work. I still feel like a monster, thanks to the stitches running along my scalp.
“We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to go through this on your own.” He takes half a step closer, and I find myself trembling. Is it fear or anticipation that makes goose bumps pebble across my skin?
For one second, a flash of desire explodes deep in my belly. It’s almost enough to make me strain upward, standing on my toes to meet his lips with mine.
In other words, I need to lie down.
Alone.
“Hopefully, I’ll be able to think better once I’ve slept,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself and blowing out a shaky breath that turns to vapor.
His brows draw together, eyes narrowed dangerously, and there’s a second where my chest tightens until my air is cut off before he heaves a sigh. “Right. Come on. Let’s get you inside,” he grunts out, clearly offended.
Two guards flank the front door, both nodding in silent greeting as Luca unlocks the door and opens it, ushering me inside. This is no humble little cottage. It’s luxurious, full of furniture, electronics, and appliances I wouldn’t dream of having in my apartment if I could afford them.
He moves quickly, walking through the living room and past the open kitchen until he reaches the doorway through which I see the bed. “Bathroom’s in here,” he tells me, flipping a switch to turn on the lights. “I’m going to grab a few things to take up to the house.”
Meanwhile, I can’t take my attention off the king-size bed. I’ve slept in this bed. My skin tingles against my will at the thought of rolling around in the sheets, my body locked with the body of the man now moving around the room. That’s something I wish I could remember. I mean, if I degraded myself by associating with a mobster, I hope the sex was good.
I have a hard time believing it could be anything but, especially when our eyes meet across the room and a flash of heat races through me. “Thank you for everything,” I whisper for lack of anything better to say. It isn’t easy to get my thoughts together when I’m this aroused.
“Whatever it takes to get you well again.” There’s something sweet in that simple wish, even if he delivers it awkwardly. “You’re going to get well. You’ll be your old self again.”
I wonder which of us he’s trying to convince.
He hesitates, stalling for time, before finally leaving me on my own. Well, not exactly. The house will be surrounded by men all night. When Luca’s gone, it’s like a weight has lifted off me—the pressure of trying to compose myself and put on a brave face in the middle of so much confusion. Right away, I grab my phone from the nightstand. It’s off but plugged into a charger. Once powered up, I find a dozen missed texts from Mom, along with a handful of calls she made over the past few days.
Mom: Can’t wait for our dinner.
Sent three days ago.
When I didn’t reply, she started getting antsy and making calls. The last text I sent her talks about having dinner together after I return from vacation. So that part of Luca’s story is true, as well. We went away together. I was planning on meeting with my parents afterward.
In other words, he’s telling me the truth. I don’t know whether that’s a comfort or not. I’ve completely lost sight of who I am any more, and the more I think about it, the worse my head hurts.
After stripping down to my underwear, I find one of my oversized T-shirts in the dresser and pull it on. I really lived here. Why, dammit? I’m no closer to understanding by the time I pull back the comforter and slide under. The bed is worlds beyond what I slept on in the hospital, and immediately, my tired muscles begin to relax.
Tomorrow, I’ll do more digging around if I feel up to it and maybe see if I can bring back any memories.
The sooner I get them back, the better.