10. Emilia
Ishould say something, shouldn’t I?
Sitting in the back seat of this car, my hand resting on the box I picked up minutes ago at the wig maker’s shop in the shopping village. Luca sits on the box’s other side, involved with his phone.
Aside from making the arrangements for a last-minute appointment at the shop, we haven’t said much to each other since that disaster a few days ago. I still cringe when I think about it. I was so ready, practically on the verge of begging him to fuck me, when those ugly memories came back.
I wish I understood why. Why then? It’s like being tortured, plain and simple. I was about to have what was bound to be the best sex of my entire life, and then bam! Traumatic memories came slamming through the door and shoved all thoughts of sex aside. I went from floating in bliss to drowning in fear, unable to process the nasty images crashing into my head and the intense emotions they stirred up. I still can’t quite process it.
When things cooled off, and it was clear there was no getting out of this dinner tonight, it was time to start thinking logically. One thing was obvious. I couldn’t go to dinner with my parents looking the way I do. As it is, a knit hat is the only thing making it possible for me to show my face in public.
It’s one thing to practically have a crew cut, but the stitches along the back of my scalp are plainly visible, thanks to my lack of hair.
“Thank you for going to the trouble,” I murmur, staring at my hand rather than looking at Luca. “Arranging for all of this, you know. I appreciate it.”
He grunts at first, his thumbs moving over the screen. After another few moments, he mutters, “They’re supposed to be the best. The most natural-looking. You feel good having it on?”
Good isn’t the word. Once the living, breathing angel at the shop showed me how to put on the wig and what I would need to do to style it, I was able to look at myself in the mirror. I could’ve cried. For the first time in forever, I felt like myself. I looked like me, not some shadow of who I used to be.
“It looks great,” I tell him.
“I’m glad,” he retorts with a humorless snort before going back to his phone. “I went through enough trouble getting you in at the last minute.”
What a charmer. Every little jewel that falls from his lips makes me wonder how I or anyone else could fall in love with a man like him. I’m supposed to act like everything is fine and dandy during this dinner when just the act of sitting this close to him makes my skin crawl.
Right. Keep telling yourself that.
Okay, so he doesn’t always have that effect on me. Even now, with the temperature between us downright icy, I find myself squeezing my thighs together in memory of the mind-blowing reaction I had to him. I was on fire, barely in control of myself. I hardly recognized the person I had become, but that wasn’t enough to stop me. Only the memory that bubbled up was strong enough, probably because my mind was free of questions and worries for the first time in ages. Who can think when they’re in the middle of trying to rip somebody’s clothes off?
I need him to be on his best behavior tonight, and the grumpy lump-of-shit act he’s pulling right now isn’t going to fly. I need to find some way to mend fences. “You said we’ve been to this restaurant before? The one we’re going to tonight?”
Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I notice the typing stops. “Yes. I bought out the place for the night. You wanted a normal experience, and things weren’t safe enough for us to go out without taking extra precautions.”
I wish I could remember that. Something nice, something good. Even if I were faking my feelings, it would be a memory to cling to now, when we have to play the happy couple for my parents or risk all kinds of ugliness I don’t want to imagine.
It’s going to get ugly either way. Dad will recognize him. He’s a chronic news watcher. Considering he raised me to be the kind of person who would never associate with criminals, he’s going to be shocked, to put it mildly. I’ll be lucky if we get out of this without a public fight.
No, that’s not Dad’s style. He would much rather walk out. Either way, it’s going to be humiliating.
“Nervous?” I turn my head at Luca’s sudden question, and he glances at my fingers, tapping rapidly against the top of the box.
“A little,” I admit. “I don’t want this to turn into a thing. You know, if I thought there was any way we could get out of it, I would.” I’m trying to be nice and smooth things over, but he only scowls.
“Of course you would,” he mutters with a bitter snort. “You would rather do anything than have people think you would debase yourself by being involved with me.” I can’t help but notice a sadness underneath all that bravado.
The thing is, he’s right, though he doesn’t need to throw it in my face. It isn’t my fault he chooses to live the way he does.
“You fucking knew there was danger, and you wanted to be with me, anyway. So what does that say about your high-and-mighty ass?” That nasty question hurled at me in rage has echoed in my head ever since. Could it be true? Could I have been with him despite the danger? Was this real for me?
Staring out the window, I watch the city go by in a blur. It’s midafternoon, and the sidewalks are clogged with people bundled up against icy winds that bring the smell of snow with them. I used to be part of all of that. I was a normal person with a normal life.
“What was my partner’s name again?” I ask since I was too overwhelmed to commit it to memory when I first asked back in the hospital.
He looks up at me, arching an eyebrow. “Craig. Do you remember anything about him?”
“Only that he exists. I can’t picture his face in my head.” Why does it sound like this amuses him?
“Spoiler… he was working for us all along.” When I can’t hide my surprise, he snickers. “You’re not a big fan of his. He’s been asking about you, though. Wanting to know if he can come and say hi, maybe jog your memory.”
“Why would I want to see him?” I ask out in disgust. A dirty cop. Then again, I guess I’m no better since I was supposedly in a relationship with this man and went as far as moving in with him. But Craig could give me a little insight into what I was doing when I met Luca. Or would he only lie to me because he’s on the family’s payroll?
Every time I answer a question, three more questions pop up.
That’s what is still on my mind hours later as I finish getting ready for a dinner I’ve been dreading. Makeup helps cover the thin, pink line on my cheek where somebody hit me hard enough to split the skin. I can almost remember that—the pain, the sudden shock. It’s like having a name on the tip of my tongue, and the harder I try to remember, the further away it gets.
I need to stop trying. That’s the problem. That’s why I remembered what I did when I was in bed with Luca. But do I want to? That’s the thing. What a shame we can’t decide what we want to take with us and what can dissolve into the ether.
I carefully pull on the wig and adjust it the way the woman did at the shop. The blonde waves cascade past my shoulders and look extremely natural. I toss them back and forth, a little giddy at finally having hair again.
“Are you almost ready?” I hear Luca before he enters the bedroom to find me standing in front of the mirror spanning the length of the dresser. He stops short, and I watch his reflection as he takes in the sight of me. “You’re beautiful,” he declares.
For the first time, there’s no lust or longing in that simple statement. He says it like it’s a simple fact. Somebody should tell him that’s a much more effective tactic at warming me up a little. “Thank you. And thank you again for this.” I run a hand over my new locks, grinning.
“I would do anything for you.” He clears his throat and straightens his blue necktie before straightening the lapels of his charcoal suit jacket.
Luca is drop-dead gorgeous, especially wearing a suit that was obviously made for him. Everything about him exudes wealth and confidence.
I wish there wasn’t that little voice inside me, warning me against staring for too long. A strange sense of yearning stirs in my chest, and I almost wish I could be who he needs me to be.
He’s a killer, you idiot—a fact I can’t afford to forget.
Once we’re in the car, I text Mom to let her know we’re on our way. “I hope neither of them notice the guards,” I murmur, one of so many concerns I have for tonight.
“It’s their job to fade into the background.” I wish I could feel as confident as he sounds. Something tells me tables full of men dining together in what’s supposed to be an intimate, even romantic restaurant might stick out a little.
I hope they’re good at their jobs, or else we might be screwed.My parents included.
I’m probably overthinking things, reacting out of dread.
I glance his way to find him staring at my legs. He doesn’t bother looking away when I notice. “You remember the story we’re telling?” I prompt, snapping my fingers when he doesn’t answer or acknowledge me.
“Do I remember?” he asks with a smirk. “I gave it to you. And it’s the truth.” But is it the full truth? I don’t know. I won’t until my memory returns.
My heart is thudding as we approach the restaurant. A couple of guys are hanging around near the front door, and I wonder if they’re Luca’s men. It’s freezing outside, and I have to remind myself that it’s their job before I feel sorry for them.
The cold takes my breath away as Luca helps me out of the car, or maybe it’s the touch of his hand. There’s no denying the physical pull he has on me. It’s strong enough that I could easily see myself straining upward for a kiss once we’re standing face-to-face—or almost, thanks to my heels. It almost feels natural.
Almost.My fears stop me yet again, and I pull back. “Ready?” I whisper, ignoring his brief frown.
“And if I said no?” Yet he walks me to the door, an arm around my waist, the image of a perfect gentleman as he escorts me inside to the hostess stand. Anyone would believe we’re a happy couple.
“There you are!” I barely have a chance to turn at the sound of my mother’s voice before she has thrown her arms around me, squeezing tight. “I was starting to worry you would never show.”
The familiar scent of her signature Pleasures perfume is enough to make my heart swell and leaves me fighting back emotion. Once she lets go only enough to hold me at arm’s length, I note, “We’re on time. Didn’t you get my text telling you we were on the way?”
Her familiar blue eyes roll. “Sure, but you still could’ve come up with some excuse to keep from seeing us.” She looks me up and down and offers an approving smile. “You look nice. Maybe a little too thin, but that’s always been true.”
“Mind if I get a chance to say hello to my daughter?” Dad has always been the calming influence, the one who smooths Mom’s sharp edges. A hug from him is like coming home, and I am unwilling to let go right away. I’m myself now. I know who I am.
That is until I hear Mom behind us. “And you must be Luca.” Her voice has obvious approval, and I don’t doubt she’s reacting to his good looks. Who wouldn’t?
“I am, Mrs. Washington. It’s a pleasure. I see where Emilia’s beauty originates.” He knows how to turn on the charm when he has to, and his voice practically drips with it before she giggles like a teenager.
Dad’s pleasant smile fades as he studies Luca over the top of my head. No, no, please. Don’t cause a scene. “Have we met before?” he asks as they shake hands.
“I don’t think so, sir.” Luca leaves it there before taking my hand. I squeeze his as hard as I can, but he doesn’t react, cool and calm. I guess deception comes more naturally to him.
The hostess waves us on, and we follow her lead, passing one table after another. I even recognize a couple of the guys scattered around the dining room, having seen them outside the house on occasion. Luca was right. They do blend in.
Dad is no closer to being convinced by the time we sit at a table near the back of the room. I notice the way Luca positions himself with his back to the wall so he can see everything. What would it be like, always having to look over my shoulder?
“You look very familiar to me,” Dad murmurs just as he takes his seat across from Luca.
“Do you have any pictures from your trip?” I ask, raising my voice until it’s a little louder than his. “I’ve been dying to see them.”
“Oh, yes, I have them on my phone.” Mom pulls it out and opens her photo app. “You really should go, honey. You would love it.”
“That’s what you say after all your trips,” I point out. It feels good to remember something like that, something normal. And I’m glad for the photos since they’ll provide a distraction.
I don’t feel like devolving into awkward small talk that can’t lead anywhere good.
“Do you travel much, Luca?” Mom asks as I scroll through one photo after another.
“I would like to,” he tells her. “I’m usually too busy with work to consider it.”
“And what is it you do for a living?” she asks while I die inside.
Dammit.I can’t keep myself from cringing at the question. I look at Luca from the corner of my eye, holding my breath. “I help run my family business,” he explains smoothly. “I generally do whatever my father asks. We have business interests throughout the city.”
“Business. That’s interesting.” Mom leans over to look at the photos I’m pulling up. “Oh, that was a terrific day. We saw?—”
“Business?” Dad’s voice is flat, tight. The way he sounds when he’s suspicious and following a hunch. “What kind of business?”
“What is this?” Mom asks with a light laugh. “An interrogation? Honey, that’s enough.” All I can do is hope that, with all my might, he will listen to her.
He doesn’t. “I know who you are. I know your face.” My blood runs cold, and my body stiffens as my father’s head swings slowly in my direction so he can stare at me in horror. “What is this all about? What are you doing with this man?”
Well, there goes that.We haven’t even ordered appetizers, and already the night is ruined. “Dad, don’t,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Will someone please clue me in?” Mom’s gaze swings back and forth over the table.
“Maybe I can explain,” Luca offers. He reminds me of his father right now, wearing the same stern expression Rocco does when he sits at the head of the family table. “My name is Luca Santoro.”
Mom gasps with her usual dramatic flair before staring wide-eyed at me. “Santoro? Those Santoros?”
“Those Santoros,” Luca murmurs evenly, a wry grin playing over his mouth. I’m glad he finds this amusing while I sit here trying not to throw up. “I know this must come as a shock.”
“That’s why I didn’t really want to tell you any specifics,” I murmur, chewing my lip as I watch them process all of this. Doing it in public was a mistake, but it’s too late now. “I knew you would think the worst. I was trying to find a way to explain.”
“And have you found it?” Dad folds his arms. “Because I would love to hear this.”
“I think I can explain.” Luca only reaches out when my mouth falls open and covers my hand with his. His thumb slowly strokes my knuckles as he speaks. “It’s the oldest story in the book. We fell in love. I love your daughter. She’s the most important thing in the world to me.”
“But how can you still be a detective and be with him?” Mom whispers. A server approaches but makes a sharp turn before reaching the table. I can only imagine how this must look, with Dad glowering and Mom clutching her throat with one hand.
Might as well get this over with all at once. “I want you to know I’m fine,” I begin. They don’t need to know it’s a lie. “But I was injured. I’m fine now,” I repeat when Mom whimpers.
“What happened?” Mom asks in a strained whisper.
“It happened while you were away. I was shot through the arm.” The story Luca gave me rolls off my tongue. “I decided to resign. I’m not sure yet what I want to do going forward, but I’m comfortable for now.” When all they do is gape at me, I shrug. “Well? You always thought I worked too much, right? You were always worried about me.”
“Don’t act like we’re supposed to be happy about any of this.” Dad removes his glasses and wipes them on his tie, shaking his head. “One day, you’re a young detective, ready to take on the world. The next, you’re showing up for dinner on the arm of a man?—”
“A man who loves me,” I remind him. Do I sound a little sharp? Maybe. Do I care? No, especially since his mouth snapped shut. “He loves me, Dad. It was just as complicated for him to bring me into his life. Things are still complicated.”
“It wouldn’t do Emilia any favors if word got around about us.” Luca exchanges a look with me, and I couldn’t be more grateful to see the calm assurance in his eyes. He’s got this. I didn’t know until now how much I needed him to back me up tonight. “So we’re keeping things very, very quiet. In time, we can go public. Not now.”
“Not so soon after my resignation,” I insist when Mom’s mouth opens. “People could get the wrong idea.”
For the second time tonight, I’m about to tell a huge lie—or what feels like one. It’s what they need to hear. It could even turn out to be true for some unimaginable reason. “I love him. I tried not to, for all the reasons going through your heads right now. It was impossible. I can’t explain it any better than that.” There’s something painfully familiar about those three words that hit me square in the chest. Being here with Luca, his unwavering commitment, and me voicing that ‘I love him,’ feels strangely right, and I feel at peace for the first time since the hospital.
“Your daughter is safe with me,” Luca assures them.
“I hope you don’t expect us to accept this that easily.” I hate the disappointed, weary frown my father wears. No matter how old I get, there will never come a time I don’t want his approval. He’s stood at the forefront of my ideals of honesty and fairness all my life, and he’s disappointed in me.
“I’m not na?ve, Dad.” I offer a little smile to him, then to Mom. “But this is my choice.”
Mom sips from her water glass then releases a shallow sigh. “Well, he grew on you. He might grow on us too.” She straightens her spine and lifts her chin, and I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of her or loved her more than I do right now. Dad is about to say something when she pins him with a stare. “I’m starving. Let’s get our menus so we can order, then we’ll tell you more about the trip.”
Luca squeezes my hand before signaling for our server. His eyes are twinkling when I meet his gaze, and I can’t help but smile in relief. It’s like we passed a test together, thanks to him, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
If only everything could be settled so easily.
If only it weren’t so hard not to drown in his dark eyes.