Chapter 16
LUCA
“Get your fucking hands off her.” The words were a savage growl, ripped from me as fury colored my vision.
I’d gone to Alessia’s office, upset about her little attempt to walk away from me, planning to put her in her place.
Her office had been empty, but her purse and phone were still there at her desk.
She had to be nearby, so I prowled from room to room in search of her.
When I peeked inside the bathroom, I never expected to find Alessia being assaulted by some dickhead in a cheap suit.
I thought I’d been mad when I arrived—that had been nothing.
Seeing his hands on her, the black tears streaking down her face, I rocketed past mad and went straight to blinding rage. I was doused in boiling anger so blistering, I was two seconds from going feral.
The only reason I didn’t immediately launch myself onto the piece of shit and beat him to a bloody pulp was because Alessia ran into my arms the second he released her.
It had given me pause just long enough to remember one of the fundamental lessons I’d learned long ago—never dish out payback when the insult was still fresh.
It sounded lofty but had nothing to do with making rash decisions and everything to do with not getting caught.
No threats, no evidence at the scene—then I would be free to do what I wanted later when the time was right.
Alessia needed me. I would get her out of there and deal with the asshole later, even though my head pounded with the need to rain down vengeance.
The best I could do at the moment was glare at him with a promise of retribution.
He seemed to get my meaning. The fucker looked about ready to piss himself.
I ushered Alessia out of the bathroom. “Let’s get your things—we’re leaving.” My words were clipped, too much anger pulsing through my system to give her gentle and soothing like she deserved. Fortunately, she didn’t argue, simply gathering her things and allowing me to lead her to my car outside.
Neither of us spoke for most of the ride. I tested the V10 engine, swerving in and out of traffic with the grace of a hummingbird weaving from one flower to the next. I was driving like a lunatic, but I didn’t care. I needed the rush to help rid me of the excess adrenaline lighting my skin on fire.
“Luca, you’re scaring me,” Alessia said softly.
Exhaling the stale air trapped deep in my lungs, I made an effort to slow down. “That was your boss, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” She bit down on her bottom lip and peered at me anxiously.
“He didn’t just say something to upset you the other day, did he? When you wandered off and ended up under the overpass. He’s been harassing you, hasn’t he?”
“He didn’t touch me—it was just something he said—but, yes, he made a sexual comment that upset me.” Her voice was so small, I wanted to scoop her into my lap and never let her go.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long has it been going on?” I bit out.
“It was just little comments at first. Until a few days ago, the only time he’s tried to touch me was at the company Christmas party,” she explained in a rush.
“How. Long.”
“A year,” she breathed.
What. The. Fuck.
Just when I thought I was cooling down enough to talk, I was straight back to suffocating fury.
My knuckles bled white as they clenched the steering wheel, my nostrils flaring as I tried to breathe through the pounding anger.
That asshole had been making her life hell for a solid year, and she had been taking it.
Why hadn’t she put a stop to it? Wasn’t her father the fucking CEO?
“Where are we going?”
“My place,” I snapped. It was unfair to take out my anger on her, but my control was slipping. I felt powerless to have sat by while she had been suffering—it didn’t matter that I hadn’t known her—she was mine to protect, and I hadn’t done my job.
I despised that feeling.
I could sense her eyes on me, but she didn’t argue about my intended destination.
Parking in the underground lot, I led her toward the elevator to my Park Avenue home.
A short walk to Central Park, my apartment was ideally located in the heart of the city.
I’d paid a pretty penny for that convenience, but it had been worth it.
I loved everything about my place. I’d remodeled it when I bought it, so it was decorated in cool greys with black accents, exactly as I’d wanted.
It was more space than I needed, but I liked knowing I had a little room between me and my neighbors.
I was unsettled at how good it felt bringing Alessia to my place.
Normally, when I brought a girl over, I was itching to get rid of her as soon as she walked through the doors.
I should have known Alessia would be different.
She had crawled under my skin without even trying.
Instead of getting rid of her, I puzzled out ways to make her stay.
For now, I would rely on brute strength and manipulation; but soon, I’d need to convince her to stop running.
She came to a stop in the entry of my apartment, seemingly unsure as she took in her surroundings.
I had noted how orderly everything was at her place, but I had no room to talk.
My place bordered on institutional, but it wasn’t because everything was in its place—there were no things.
I’d never needed to buy crap just to own it and clutter up my living space.
I’d grown up owning hardly anything and saw no reason to collect things now that I had money.
I had comfortable sofas with modern lines, the requisite number of end tables and lamps, and muted paintings on the walls. What I didn’t have were shelves with worthless knickknacks and fake plants cluttering every surface. It was the perfect escape from the chaos of life in the city.
Leading her into the living area, I motioned to a sofa. “Have a seat.”
“I like your place,” she offered as she sat down gingerly, taking off her heels and pulling her legs up to her chest.
I tipped my chin but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her comment. “Why the fuck haven’t you told anyone about your boss?” I stood at one of the large windows and stared outside as I waited for her response.
“I was trying to handle it on my own. Up until last week, there wasn’t much to handle, just some inappropriate comments here and there. I didn’t want to go running to daddy, not that he would have helped me anyway.” The last part was muttered under her breath, not meant for my ears.
“Why the hell would you say that?” I turned back to her in astonishment.
“My dad’s a big believer in handling your own problems. I’ve been messed with in the past, and he told me to figure it out—I wasn’t going to run to him for help, just to have him embarrass me.”
I couldn’t imagine a father not wanting to murder anyone who had hurt his daughter. But then again, my dick of a father hadn’t given two shits about me or my sister. Maybe Alessia had misunderstood her father, and maybe he was an asshole, there was no telling.
“You said you filed a complaint—why was he still working there?”
The color that had returned to her smooth olive skin drained away. “I tried to, but the HR office was out for training. I was going to do it the next day but got distracted.”
I ran my finger back and forth over my bottom lip as I stared at my little songbird. “So, you lied to me.”
She peered up at me through her lashes, regret and guilt leaking from her eyes.
As if I’d had any question about my twisted proclivities, my dick roused at the sight of her small and broken.
She was mine to protect, but also mine to do with as I pleased, and her current state gave me all kinds of depraved ideas.
“You can bat those eyes at me all you like, but it’s not going to save you.
I’ve warned you about lying to me … twice now.
However, as much as I want to bend you over my knee this instant, we have other matters to discuss, so I’ll just say this.
If your boss makes lewd comments to you, you tell me.
If the mailman catcalls you, you tell me.
If any man ever puts a hand on you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.
Am I clear?” I waited until she nodded before I continued.
“Now, what got in your head that made you think you needed to end things between us? And, I swear to God, woman, do not test my patience with a lie.”
I leaned my back against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. I was genuinely curious what her reasons would be, assuming she told me the truth.
A part of me hoped she wouldn’t. I would make her writhe until she begged, and still, I would deny her so she would understand what it felt like to be refused.
It wouldn’t help my cause to win her over, but seeing her tied up and panting would be worth it.
Alessia’s eyes danced around the room, fear wafting off her in palpable waves. Eventually, her resolve solidified as her eyes met mine. “I know about you, Luca. I know who you are.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
“I know you’re in the mafia. I can’t be with you—I’m not okay with that.”
Wariness gave way to confusion. I’d been certain she was oblivious—decided the naivete wasn’t just an act.
She’d had no idea about my associations, which meant someone had fed her information.
It had to have come from someone she knew, someone she was close to, someone willing to put their neck on the line to warn her.
We kept that shit locked down, not like the days of John Gotti, where press conferences and flashy mob killings were an everyday occurrence.
The new American Mafia had gone back to its Sicilian roots.
Omérta—our code of silence—was an absolute, punishable by death, and not just your death, the death of your loved ones.
Too many made men had turned rat over the years; there had to be severe repercussions for turning on your family.
Whoever told her had to be in the life. I wondered if she knew or cared whether that person was connected, because she clearly resented my involvement.
She was looking at me like I pushed the elderly in front of moving vehicles for fun.
Alessia was the most complex, confusing woman I had ever met.
Each word out of her mouth was more confusing than the last, and like a buffoon, I couldn’t get enough.
“What I do for a living has nothing to do with you and me.”
“So, it’s true?” A glimmer of hope fizzled out in her eyes. She had hoped I’d deny her allegations. I hadn’t denied them, but I also wasn’t going to admit anything—another lesson I’d learned early on.
“I’m just an ordinary man, no different than the men in your family or anyone else. I’m a capitalist. I pursue lucrative business opportunities when they arise. I am the same man today as I was last week when those pretty eyes gazed at me like I hung the moon, begging me to kiss you.”
“But you hurt people and break the law. I can’t just ignore that—it changes things.”
“You seem to have a very pretty picture painted of the world around you. We aren’t so far off our less-civilized ancestors.
This life is cutthroat—whether it’s business opportunities, relationships, or anything in between.
You think politicians and the wealthy play by the rules?
That’s a joke. They’re more corrupt than the thugs on the street.
I loan people money, just like any other banker.
People don’t have to accept my terms. They want a lower rate, go to a credit union—I’m not forcing anyone into anything.
The law says, because I’m willing to take a risky bet and lend money to someone with shit credit, I’m a criminal.
If a stockbroker makes a risky trade, would you call him a criminal?
No. I’m not a saint, but I’m not the devil you’re making me out to be. ”