28. Skye
28
SKYE
T he sharp click of my heels echoes through the boutique as I drag another rack of designer dresses across the hardwood floor. My muscles burn from hours of reorganizing, but the physical strain helps quiet the anger still simmering beneath my skin. Every time I pause, his face flashes in my mind - that perfect mask of control, those empty blue eyes that gave nothing away even when I confronted him with the footage.
"These go in the window display," I mutter to myself, yanking a selection of silk pieces with more force than necessary. The hangers screech against the metal rail.
Through the storefront windows, I catch Mickey shifting his weight by the entrance. His presence is both irritating and oddly comforting - a reminder that even after discovering Luca's manipulation, he's still ensuring my safety. Though now it feels more like being watched than protected.
I grab my tablet and pretend to check inventory numbers, but my eyes drift to the street where Bas leans against a black SUV. Both men maintain their positions without approaching - a calculated distance that speaks volumes about their instructions. Luca's giving me space, but not letting go of control entirely. Typical.
"Fucking psychopath," I whisper, though the words lack real venom. My fingers trace the edge of a suit jacket that reminds me of him. Everything reminds me of him lately - the mint gum I had to throw away because the taste brought back memories of his kisses, the way my bed feels too empty without his commanding presence.
I shove the jacket to the back of the rack. My carefully organized system from this morning is already chaos again, but I can't stop moving. If I stop, I'll have to think about how despite everything, some traitorous part of me misses the weight of his gaze, the possessive way his hands would settle on my hips, the false safety I felt in his arms.
The security cameras blink their red lights overhead - a constant reminder of how I discovered his deception. The footage had been crystal clear: his men, acting on his direct orders, staging the attack that drove me straight into his bed.
The bell above the door chimes and I look up to see Gianna Rossi strutting in, her designer heels worth more than most people's monthly rent. As the wife of one of Chicago's most prominent capos, she's a regular customer who always brings the latest gossip along with her platinum card.
"Darling," she air-kisses both my cheeks. "You wouldn't believe what I heard at lunch yesterday."
I force my hands to stay steady as I adjust a display of silk scarves. "Oh?"
"Your boy Luca put three men in the hospital." She runs perfectly manicured fingers over a rack of dresses. "They were late with a payment, nothing serious. Usually, he'd just send Bas to handle it. But he went himself." Her dark eyes gleam. "Broke the first guy's jaw with his bare hands."
My stomach twists. That's not Luca's style - he's always calculated, precise. He lets others handle the violence while he orchestrates from above.
"That's not all." Another customer, Maria Constantine, appears from behind a display. Her husband runs numbers for the Mantione family. "People are saying he doesn't look to be himself. I hear he looks wild, like he's finally snapped." Her knowing look burns into me.
I busy myself straightening already perfect hangers. "I'm sure it's just rumors."
"Oh honey," Gianna leans close, her expensive perfume clouding my senses. "There's only one thing that drives a man to the brink of madness. And his is five-seven with killer curves and the sharpest tongue in Chicago."
"He was at the house on Sunday. I think Bas dragged him there." Maria adds. "All the guys were talking business but Luca - Luca wasn't even listening. Just staring at nothing, that fancy watch of his ticking away while he spun an empty glass."
The image hits harder than I expect - Luca losing his iron grip on control, his perfect mask cracking. But I can't let myself care. Not after what he did.
"Ladies," I paste on my best retail smile. "Should we focus on finding you something fabulous to wear to next week's charity gala?"
But their words echo in my head, mixing with memories of ice blue eyes and cool mint kisses I'm trying desperately to forget.
The bell chimes again as Gianna and Maria Constantine head out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Well, as alone as I can be with Mickey and Bas maintaining their watchful posts outside.
Another chime, and I turn to see Maria - Luca's Maria - pushing through the door with two coffee cups and a determined expression that makes my stomach clench.
"Your guards let me through." She gives me a wink and hands me one of the cups, the scent of hazelnut warming the air between us. "And before you ask, no, he didn't send me."
I accept the coffee, studying her face. Maria's different from the other women in their world - there's a genuine warmth in those brown eyes, a kindness that seems at odds with the Mantione name she carries. I had hoped she wouldn't stop coming just because of him.
"How is he?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Maria settles onto one of the velvet loungers near the dressing rooms, her curls falling over one shoulder as she takes a slow sip. "Remember how I told you Luca and I practically grew up together?"
I nod, perching on the edge of a nearby display table.
"The day it happened - the day his mother died - I was supposed to be in that car too." Her voice drops lower. "Aunt Sofia was taking us for ice cream after school. But I got sick, threw up all over my desk right before the bell rang."
The coffee burns my tongue as I drink too quickly, needing something to ground me.
"They found them three hours later. The car was crushed against a tree, halfway down a ravine. When I heard..." Maria's fingers tighten around her cup. "I always thought a part of him died down there."
"Maybe it did," I whisper.
She shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. Uncle Tony - he changed after that. Started drinking, blamed Luca for surviving when Sofia didn't. Would beat him bloody some nights." Maria's eyes meet mine. "I'm not excusing what he did to you. The manipulation was wrong. But Luca - he doesn't know how to need someone without trying to control everything around them. Loss and love are tangled up in his head with powerlessness. But I think there's still a part of the old him deep down."
I set my coffee down, the ceramic clinking against the glass display case. "I don't know if I can forgive him, Maria. The manipulation, the lies..." My fingers trace patterns in the condensation on the cup. "He orchestrated this whole thing just to get me where he wanted me."
"And where's that?" Maria leans forward, those warm brown eyes searching my face. "Because from where I'm sitting, he wanted you safe. Was his method fucked up? Absolutely. But you're not some conquest to him, Skye."
"Safe?" I let out a harsh laugh. "He had someone tear into my store and scare me. Do you know what that feels like? To discover the person you're falling for engineered your fear?"
"I know exactly what it feels like to be afraid in this life." Maria's voice carries steel beneath its softness. "But I also know my cousin. He's calculating, yes. Cold, definitely. But he's never fixated on anyone the way he does with you."
I cross my arms, fighting the shiver that runs through me at her words. "What I need is honesty. Complete honesty - even when the truth is ugly. Even when it hurts. I can't..." My voice catches. "I can't build anything real on lies."
"Then tell him that." Maria stands, her curls catching the boutique's lighting like a halo. "You think Luca knows how to do this? How to care about someone without trying to control every variable? Talk to him."
"People don't change, Maria. Especially not men like him."
"Really?" She arches one perfect eyebrow. "Because the Luca I grew up with wouldn't lose sleep over someone's feelings. Wouldn't sit in bars staring at empty chairs. Wouldn't let his guard down enough to show any cracks in that perfect facade." She steps closer, her designer perfume mixing with the lingering coffee scent. "He's already changing, Skye. The question is, are you brave enough to show him how?"
I turn away, pretending to adjust a display of silk scarves. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."
After Maria leaves, I head to meet the girls for our standing lunch date at Rosario's. The small Italian bistro sits just far enough from the boutique that I can pretend Mickey and Bas aren't following in their black SUV.
Jazz, Kendra, and Mikayla already occupy our usual corner booth when I arrive. One look at my face and Kendra's sliding a glass of wine my way.
"Spill it," she demands, her dark eyes fierce with protectiveness. "What did that cold-hearted bastard do?"
I sink into the booth beside Mikayla, who squeezes my hand. Her sweet face is pinched with concern, so different from her usual sunny demeanor.
"He… arranged it." The words taste bitter. "The attack on my store. It was all orchestrated to get me to move in with him." I had told them what happened when I agreed to stay with Luca, and I see the moment they realize exactly what I'm talking about.
"That manipulative son of a bitch." Kendra's perfectly manicured nails drum against the table.
"I…told him to give me some space."
She nods. "Men like that don't change, honey. They just find new ways to control you."
Jazz stays quiet, those observant eyes studying me as she sips her water. Her curls are piled high today, gold hoops catching the light as she tilts her head.
"I get why you're upset," Mikayla says softly. "But maybe... maybe he thought it was the only way to keep you safe?"
"By terrorizing her?" Kendra scoffs. "Please. There are a thousand ways he could have protected her without lying."
"In his world, though..." Jazz finally speaks, her voice measured. "Everything's about control. Power moves. Maybe he doesn't know how to care about someone without trying to control all the variables."
"That doesn't make it right," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
"No, it doesn't." Jazz leans forward. "But you're not just angry about the manipulation, are you? You're angry because despite everything, you still feel something for him."
Kendra gives me a look. "Girl, you tell me what you need and we'll do it. You want me to throw a brick through his window, I will. You want a wine night to drown out the pain, I'm there."
And this is why I love my friends.
"I just..." I trace the rim of my wine glass. "I need him to be honest with me. Even when the truth is ugly."
And I'm not sure he can be.