7. Luca
The mood around the room is fucking grim as my father finishes a phone call from my cousin, Francesco. “We’ll have to make an appearance at the funeral,” he tells Cesco, who went to the hospital to check on Paul’s condition. The doctors were supposed to test him today to see whether he had brain function. Suffice it to say he no longer does, and any organs that can be used will be harvested and donated.
“I don’t know if anyone from the family would be welcome there.” Cesco’s voice is tight, strained. “After his mother fainted and came to, she screamed a lot about how it was all the family’s fault. How she never wanted him to get involved the way his old man was and how she knew he would end up dead before he was twenty-six like her husband did.”
“Jesus Christ.” Papa closes his eyes, and a look of pain touches his weathered face. “So much for having a long history with somebody.”
“It’s to be expected,” Dante muses, pacing back and forth in front of Papa’s desk. “She’s emotional. She just found out her only son is dead. She’s hurting. Nobody told him to pull a gun.” I can’t tell whether he believes that or if he’s trying to reassure Papa he’s not responsible for a kid’s death. And Paul wasn’t the only one.
“I’ll be heading back soon,” Cesco concludes.
“Nobody can say we abandoned the kid in his final moments,” Papa reminds us after ending the call. He sounds sad but resolute. “Let’s settle up the bill with the hospital. Whatever she thinks about the family, she shouldn’t have to pay it. The kid wasn’t even old enough to be married or have a family, was he?”
Nothing can be said about that, so we remain silent, the three of us lost in our heads. However, my mind is only focused on one thing these days.
Falling asleep next to Emilia yesterday was exactly what I needed. Fully clothed except for my shoes, on top of the covers, I slept like the dead for a solid seven hours and woke up groggy and confused in the middle of the afternoon. Emilia kept sleeping, and I was glad to let her do it. I brought her soup and fresh bread, which she ate in bed while I distracted myself with the television in the living room.
Yes, I wanted to be with her. Yes, it fucking killed me to give her the space she needs. But it felt like a step in the right direction, and it gives me hope that we’ll pull out of this together. The fact that she was able to fall asleep with me in bed alongside her is another minor miracle. She’s coming around—slowly, yes, but it’s happening. There’s no stopping it. She’s going to remember she is mine if it fucking kills me.
And when she does, I intend to spend days celebrating that, preferably in bed.
We break for lunch after discussing business that, for once, has nothing to do with the name Vitali. It’s easy to lose sight of what remains to be done to keep the family running. I’ve always had difficulty focusing on things that don’t interest me—probably one of the main reasons why my brother would be better suited to run the family, besides the fact he’s the older son. There’s never been a challenge like the one I’m up against now when nothing in the world is as critical to my existence as my love.
Dante rambles on about shipments while I wonder about Emilia. Is she well today? Guilia was supposed to take breakfast down to her this morning to check in on her. I’ve been with Papa all morning and haven’t gotten a report yet. I suppose if there were an emergency, I would’ve heard about it by now. However, that does nothing to ease my worries.
By the time my brother is finished, I’m already beyond the point of losing my patience. I’m going to go down and see her. I need to know for myself that she’s okay. We’re breaking for lunch, anyway, before I have to sit down with the club’s books for a while.
I’m barely a dozen strides from the office when somebody calls out my name. “Luca! Where are you headed?” I turn to my sister’s voice and find her grinning like a Cheshire cat as she approaches on mile-high heels that click against the floor with every step.
“Where do you think?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She looks bright and cheerful in a furry miniskirt and somehow manages to walk without breaking her neck. “I should ask you that question. Where do you think you’re going in that get-up?” I ask, folding my arms, temporarily distracted.
She rolls her heavily made-up eyes. “What difference does it make? I’m only wearing it around here since there’s nowhere to go.” She looks down at herself and sighs softly. “I mean, I’m wasting all this on you people.”
“What’s the alternative?” I only purse my lips disapprovingly because I know it gets under her skin. “Driving some poor bastard out of his mind? Teasing every man who lays eyes on you?”
“Oh God, would you shut up?” She hisses while her cheeks color. “That’s just exactly the kind of thing I don’t need Papa to hear, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m just saying. Don’t let him catch you like that, no matter whether you’re staying around the house or not.” Guilia has long been one of the few patches of brightness in our lives. She’s the only girl and spoiled to hell and back, but she is a good kid with a beautiful heart. All the more reason to distrust every man on Earth since I know all too well how men think.
I’m about to walk away when she stops me, scurrying in front of me and placing her hands against my chest. “Hold on. There’s a surprise for you.”
“No offense, but I’m not in the mood for surprises.” I love the kid, although sometimes she has trouble taking a hint.
Her eyes twinkle despite my growing irritation. “Are you sure about that? Because I think you’ll like this one.” She practically skips off down the hall, heading toward the dining room. Once I’ve finished wondering how the hell she managed to skip in those shoes, I follow, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Ta-da!” My sister steps aside as soon as we enter the room, beaming as she waves her arms with a dramatic flourish. Emilia is sitting down at the table with Mama and having tea.
I’m a moth drawn to a flame, moving toward her before I’ve had time to think. “How are you feeling?” I ask as my eyes crawl over her, taking in every aspect of her down to the shy smile she offers.
Mama rises, arms outstretched. “Isn’t it nice?” she gushes after kissing both my cheeks. “We convinced her to join us for lunch today.”
“And I’m glad you did,” Emilia tells her before looking my way again. “I’m feeling better, thanks.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. She has a little bit of lost weight to make up for, and the sweater she’s wearing hangs on her. It doesn’t help that she pulls her hands into the sleeves and hunches her shoulders protectively when I touch one of them. “It’s nice being able to sit and talk,” she says as I take a seat beside her. “I’m trying to get my brain moving. Sitting alone isn’t going to help that.”
“How are you really feeling?” I ask in a quieter voice, my stomach growling once I’ve settled in. I had no desire to eat until this very minute. Knowing she’s all right has left room for other concerns to be addressed. I have to be better about that. I can’t fail her by losing track of myself. What good could I do if she needs protection and I’m too exhausted to be of any use?
“A little shaky,” she murmurs with a brave yet weak smile while Mama argues gently with Guilia over her taste in clothes. “But better, for sure.”
“That’s a relief.” What isn’t a relief is the way she continues to keep herself away from me, sitting straight and tall when she used to lean in like she couldn’t be without my touch for long. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand it. She needs all of my patience and devotion now, though. I can’t let her down, no matter how much I want to overturn this entire fucking table.
“We have chicken cacciatore and pasta for lunch,” Mama informs us. “And a big salad. I hope you’re hungry.” She eyes Emilia with concern, something only I seem to notice.
She pats Emilia’s arm. “We need to put some meat back on those bones, cara mia. You’re going to disappear before my very eyes.”
“You’re so thoughtful.” I can tell she’s feeling overwhelmed but doing her best to cover it. It’s the way she fidgets, fingers picking at the tablecloth where only I can see. “I feel so bad not being able to remember you.”
“Oh, you don’t need to feel any guilt.” My mother takes her hands and holds them tight. There’s almost feverish intensity in her gaze as she stares at Emilia. “You must never apologize for that. It’s not your fault. All you have to do is take care of yourself now. We are all here for you.”
“Maybe it’s not all bad, her memory being lost.” Only I heard my sister’s soft whisper, and my head snaps around so I can glare at her.
“The hell are you talking about?” I demand as quietly as I can.
“I’m just saying she would never have come up to the house otherwise. She was always afraid of Dante.” Guilia’s big eyes are full of fear as she gulps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t pay any attention to me,” I tell her, shaking my head at myself. “Look, I’m on the edge. Okay, sis?”
“Well! How nice.” I know my father well enough to recognize the effort he’s making at sounding pleasant and cheerful when he finds Emilia seated at his table. “It’s good to see you up and around.” He shows no surprise or shock at her condition, which has gone unseen by him until now. He’s kind enough to keep his reaction muted.
“Mr. Santoro, I have to thank you.” Emilia starts to rise, but he shakes his head before taking his customary seat at the opposite end of the table from where Mama sits.
“You have nothing to thank me for,” he tells her, flashing a brief smile. “We are all happy you’re back with us.” Part of me believes him, but I’m not kidding myself. If he’s happy, it’s for my sake. She’s been a thorn in his side from the start.
As always, Dante enters the room on our father’s heels like the little dog he is. We might have come to a tentative understanding while Emilia was missing, and I am grateful for all the work he put into trying to locate her and the continuing work he’s doing to pin Alessandro down. That’s not enough to wash away the bad taste that always fills my mouth when I see my brother trailing behind Papa, practically touching his lips to the man’s ass. It’s pathetic, though of course, he doesn’t see it that way. I doubt he’s ever been honest enough with himself to recognize his pitiful ass-kissing for what it is.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. The scowl he wears tells me what he’s thinking. The prick. At least he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut, something he doesn’t always do.
When Papa’s eyes bulge, my heart lodges itself in my throat. For the first time today, Emilia isn’t the only thing on my mind. “What’s the matter?” I’m already halfway out of my chair with my heart in my throat, prepared to call the doctor if need be when I finally notice what he’s staring at to generate this reaction.
“What the hell do you think you’re wearing?” he growls out at Guilia, who made the mistake of getting out of her chair to kiss him on the cheek. He wouldn’t have noticed if she had stayed in her chair—rookie mistake.
She steps back and looks down at herself, chewing her lip. “I just wanted to dress up a little. That’s all.” Her voice is small and full of apologies.
“Dress up?” he bellows. “You’re hardly dressed in the first place. No daughter of mine is going to walk around looking like a puttana so long as I’m the head of this family.” Poor Guilia flinches at his ugly language, and I hear Emilia’s sympathetic groan at my side.
“Mio amore,” Mama murmurs, clicking her tongue. “Do not upset yourself.” I notice she doesn’t defend Guilia. She knows better. It’s a safer tactic, urging him not to upset himself rather than asking him to ease up on the poor kid.
“I encouraged her to buy that skirt,” Emilia blurts out, much to my surprise. She’s usually too intimidated to say much in front of Papa, although she doesn’t remember how things started out here. The fact that he was seriously considering having her killed to the point where he hired an assassin, then put her life up to a vote after I foiled his plans. “I thought it looked nice on her. It’s my fault.”
Guilia’s mouth falls open as she slowly turns toward Emilia. “You remember that?” she asks, wide-eyed in awe.
Fuck me, she’s right. My chest fills with warmth and leaves me breathless as I ask, “You remember?” I can’t believe how much is riding on a simple memory.
Her mouth drops open the way Guilia’s did. “I do… I think,” she amends, chewing her lip. “We went to Saks, and I bought… a black dress, right?”
“Yes! You did!” My heart is soaring as I pull her into a hug without thinking. She’s coming back to me.
I knew she would.
She has to.
What’s even better is the way she melts into my embrace. “It came to me out of nowhere,” she says with a shaky laugh and emotion clogging her voice. “I didn’t hardly think about it. It was just there.”
She’s still laughing as she pulls back a little, beaming brightly, her blue eyes sparkling as they stare into mine. It’s like nothing’s changed. The warmth is there, the familiarity.
The love.
Until I lean in, drawn to her, ready to kiss her waiting lips.
Her eyelids flutter before she goes stiff and wiggles out of my embrace. As quickly as it soared, my heart drops, and I’m reminded of the way things are. No matter how desperately I need her to remember, I can’t force it. As far as she’s concerned, I’m nobody to her. A stranger she might have known but can’t quite place.
I’m barely able to clench my jaw and grind my teeth in time to hold back a scream of pure anguish. Frustration. Even rage. She’s here, next to me, close enough to touch and smell, but it doesn’t matter.
And there’s a chance it never will. It’s too painful to think she may never know what we had together.
Past tense.
No, we aren’t a thing of the past. I just need to be patient.
The only thing I can do is force a smile for the sake of the women in the room rather than hurling something through the window, the way everything in me demands I do. I swallow my disappointment back rather than taking her by the shoulders and shaking her hard, screaming into her face, demanding she remember me. All that will do is cause her more pain. Not show her my love. Our love. Everything we sacrificed for each other now feels like a waste if it ends with her hating me for who I am.