7. Giada
Giada
Chapter seven
After graduation four years ago, my father didn’t know what to do with me. I knew he was going to be marrying me off at some point, but no one had come to him with a marriage proposal he deemed worthy enough for a man in his position. My lack of a husband has nothing to do with me or what I want, only my father’s ego. Which suits me just fine. I wasn’t allowed to go to college. Carlo told my dad why waste money on an overpriced education when the only thing I was really good for was marrying the right man and having kids. No matter how many times I brought it up to my dad, he shot me down. I fucking hated my brother for that.
Thankfully, my father has been content to forget about me these last few years. It’s hard to find a “suitable” match when you’re the most powerful family in the state, shit, maybe even the entire country, for all I know. But it won’t last forever, so I’ve been living life to the best of my ability while I can. That means I spend as little time at the house as possible. I discovered a love for travel and have spent the last five months in Europe, visiting all of my favorite places, especially Italy.
The first time I visited my mother’s family there with my bodyguard, who thankfully wasn’t Luca, I was apprehensive, to say the least. I haven’t spoken to them much through the years. My grandmother never wanted my mother to marry my father, but she didn’t have much of a choice. Her husband worked for my grandfather, who was just as cold as my father. My father wanted her as a wife and that was that. My mother’s father died before I was born and after my mother died, my grandmother moved back to Italy to live the rest of her days with her family there. I never blamed her for leaving me; we weren’t close. My father rarely allowed her at the house. From what I remembered of her, she never had a kind word to say about the man and he wasn’t going to allow anyone in his house to say a cross word about him.
When I knocked on my grandmother’s door after so many years without seeing her, the reunion was full of tears, yet joyful. She kissed my cheeks over and over, barely believing I was there. It was the first and last time I was able to spend time with her. She passed away between my trips out there, but I never stopped visiting the family I met on my first trip. The second year I went to Italy, my cousin Isabella and I decided to travel through Europe together. We ate, drank, and shopped our way through Italy, Spain and France. It became a yearly tradition, and this year was no exception—only this time, I extended my trip to five months instead of the usual three.
Before I left, Isabella made an innocent comment about me just moving to Italy and living with her in the large apartment her parents bought for her after she graduated university. I laughed, but the cogs started turning in my mind. What if I moved to Italy? Technically, I’m an adult and don’t need my father’s permission. Even now, sitting in the car that was waiting for me at the airport, I know whether or not I can legally do as I please my father still needs to give me permission. There’s no way he’d allow me to stay if I took off without it. Determination steels my spine. This is the year I convince him to let me go, to let me live the life I want and not the one he’s mapped out but is completely disinterested in.
Pulling up to the giant house, a weight of sadness drops into my stomach. Coming home is always sad for me, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. I hate feeling out of place in my own home, but this house has never felt welcoming. It’s a prison that feels suffocating to come back to, especially after spending time away.
The car stops in front of the looming house with tall ivory pillars in the front built to make it look extravagant and rich, much like the people living inside. It’s all a show, all an act. Sure, we’re richer than any family I know, but the cost was paid by the blood of others. The ivy reaching to the roof adds to the rich, stately feeling that my father wants people to see, but all I see is a cold mausoleum where happiness goes to die.
God, I really didn’t want to come back here.
“Welcome home,” one of the guards says after opening the door for me.
“Thank you.” My voice is soft and meek, like I’ve been trained to keep it since I was a young girl. Nothing like the woman I was allowed to be in my time away. Yes, I’d had a guard with me, Benny, but with only the one around it was easy to pretend I was some rich heiress on vacation instead of being under my father’s thumb. Plus, Benny liked his wine with dinner and was usually in bed by ten o’clock. It didn’t exactly take stealth of any kind for Isabella and me to sneak past his room and have a night on the town here and there. It was nothing like being in the States and having guards constantly roaming the property. Not that that was able to stop me when I was in high school.
After the night of the party in the woods, when that guy attempted to drug me, I never snuck out to one of those parties again. Not because Luca demanded it of me, but because after he beat the hell out of that kid, no one hardly looked at me. I was persona non grata for the rest of my senior year of high school. If there were any more parties, I certainly didn’t hear about them. The only person who would still have anything to do with me was Bianca, but since she went away to university, our time together has been limited, to say the least. I see her when she’s home on winter break, but that’s about it since I’ve been spending my summers anywhere but here. Bianca graduated college this year while I was away. I can’t believe it’s already been four years since we were in school and we were sneaking out to go to high school parties. It will be a nice change of pace to have someone to spend time with outside of the house while I’m home.
Walking into the house with the ornately carved marble table in the foyer, I spot a huge vase of calla lilies sitting on top. Though I love the beautiful flowers, they always remind me of a funeral. White calla lilies were strewn over my mother’s casket at her funeral. It’s a reminder that beautiful things come to die in this house and this life.
While the other guards bring in my bags, I take a little detour into the kitchen to grab myself some water before going to my room and unpacking. I’m not surprised my dad or brother didn’t come to greet me when I walked through the door, but I’d be lying if the stark reminder of the difference between the warm family I’ve come to love in Italy and the coldness of the one I have here didn’t sting just a little. I’ve long since given up the illusion that I’m anything more than a bargaining chip for my father, but I never feel it quite as sharply as when I first walk through that door after months away. I just chalk it up to the little girl I used to be, wanting to do everything to make her daddy love her and pay attention to her.
The bright yet silent kitchen greets me as I make my way to the stainless steel sink and pour myself a glass of water. A brief memory flits through my mind of my mother kneading bread on the white marble countertop, flour all over the front of her apron and a smudge of it on her nose while I sat on the counter next to her with one of my dolls. She gave this kitchen life when she was alive, always singing and a lot of times dancing with me while we waited for whatever she was baking to be pulled from the oven. It’s one of my favorite memories because of how important she made me feel by allowing me in her space. She’d always have a smile on her face as I rambled about whatever nonsense a four-year-old girl came up with, never making me feel like a nuisance.
Startling out of my memory with the slam of the back door, I turn and see the one person I never expected to lay eyes on again in this house.
Luca Bennetti.
“Well, look who finally came home to her castle.” His voice is still rich, with a deep timbre rolling off his tongue. He doesn’t have the typical Boston accent since he didn’t grow up here. I think I overheard someone calling him the California kid at some point, but he doesn’t sound like someone who grew up on the beach surfing every day, either. With great irritation, I have to admit the last few years haven’t been unkind to him. He seems to fill out his suit even better than the last time I saw him. My eyes appraise him from the tips of his expensive black leather shoes, trailing up his long legs and over his midsection, where the only bulge I see is the one of his gun under the dark suit jacket. It’s when I get to his eyes that I realize the toll the last several years have taken on him. When I knew him before, he had a dark-blue stare that seemed to scrutinize everyone and everything around him. Now his blue gaze looks almost…haunted, as though he’s seen some things that have changed him to the very marrow of who he is. With one blink it’s gone and quickly replaced by a smirk and, dare I say, a challenge to rise to his little dig about me being some sort of princess.
“Wow, it’s a real treat to be greeted by one of Alberto’s glorified pimps on my first day back. Slap around any hookers today?”
“Nice to see you still have a mouth on you, Giada.” For a brief moment, I swear there’s a glint of pride in his gaze, but that can’t be right. Luca is like every man in this organization. To them, a mouthy female is anything but something to be proud of or even tolerate.
“What are you doing here, Luca?” I set the glass in the sink before pinning him with my amber stare. “Are you here for some business with my father as one of Alberto’s little lackeys?”
Years ago, I eavesdropped on the conversation he and that lecherous old man had with my father. I was worried Luca and I would be found out after I blackmailed him into following me to a party rather than telling my dad what I was up to. Turns out my father wanted to reward him for his loyalty to the family and put him on a crew that dealt in the prostitution side of the family’s business.
“Alberto’s dead,” he says with no regret behind his words. “I’m here until things…settle.”
I have no idea what that means, and honestly, I don’t care. Having my teenage crush in the house again isn’t going to affect me in any way. Nope. Not at all.
“Well, you have fun around here. I’m sure it’s not as exciting as what you’ve been up to the last four years but don’t worry, I have no doubt you’ll fall right back into a routine.”
“We will,” he says with a small smirk playing on his lips.
“Excuse me? What do you mean we?”
“Your father wants you to have a personal guard, and I drew the short straw.”
Welcome home to your own personal hell, Giada.
I shoot Luca an obstinate look, my eyes narrowing on his smug face. “We’ll see about that.”
Stalking past the man in front of me, I stomp out of the kitchen in search of my father.
“He’s in his office,” Luca supplies as I head in that direction.
“Thank you.” My tone is prim and doesn’t express any sort of gratitude for his input.
Two quick knocks and my father calls for me to enter. When I open the door, what I find on the other side stops me in my tracks. My father sits behind his desk, pale as though he hasn’t stepped out in the sun for years and skinnier than I’ve ever seen him. In the last five months I’ve been away, he looks like he’s aged ten years.
He looks from the paperwork on his desk to me, then flips a page over and goes back to reading whatever I interrupted without showing any emotion on his gaunt face.
“You made it home,” he says indifferently.
“I did. Uncle Louis sends his love.”
He doesn’t respond. It’s as though I’m not even standing here.
“I wanted to talk to you about having a personal guard.”
My father finally looks up from his oh-so-important papers and nods to the man standing behind me. “Close the door, Luca.”
I turn my head and see Luca standing in the doorway before he dips his chin and does as my father asks, like the good little lapdog he is.
“Father, I’ve never had a personal guard. There really isn’t any reason for me to have one now.”
“You had one in Italy.”
I don’t bother telling him that Benny’s only mission in Italy was to get drunk at dinner and promptly pass out, allowing Isabella and I to do whatever the hell we pleased until the early hours of the morning.
“Right,” I concede. “But that was different. I was away from home and—”
My father slams his bony hand on the desk and meets my gaze, nothing but anger behind his eyes. “And nothing, Giada. I want you to have a guard, so you will have a guard. There is no room for argument or discussion. You don’t decide what’s best for this family. I do. You seem to have forgotten that in your time away. Maybe I need to rethink my leniency on such matters. It seems I’ve given you too much freedom.”
He hasn’t given me anything but an opportunity to be out from under the oppressive life that I’m unfortunately tied to for a few brief months a year. A life I never asked for and don’t want.
“No, Father. You don’t need to do that. I think I’m just tired from the travel.” The last thing I want is for him to suddenly decide that to make Luca’s job easier, he’s going to confine me to the house. “I’m sorry.”
My father studies me for a moment before returning his attention to the papers on his desk. “You’re too much like your mother, Giada. It was a tragedy what happened to her. See to it you don’t make the same mistakes.”
I’m stunned silent. My mother died in a car accident. Why would he say that to me?
“Is that all?” he asks, annoyance rippling through his tone with the fact I’m still standing in front of his desk.
“Yes. I’ll see you for dinner, Father.”
“You won’t. I have a meeting that is going to run late.”
I nod, though he doesn’t lift his head to notice and turn to leave. Straightening my spine, I walk toward the door and Luca opens it for me. When he steps out of my father’s office and shuts the door firmly behind him, he grins at me.
“Didn’t turn out how you planned, did it, princess?”
I want to rage, to tell him to go to hell with his smart remarks and devastating blue eyes. Instead, I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “So you have to trail me everywhere like a puppy?”
His jaw clenches. In fact, his entire body seems to tense before he narrows his eyes. “Yes.”
A wide smile stretches across my face. “Good. Be ready to leave the house at ten.”
“We aren’t sneaking out again, princess.”
I shake my head from side to side while my cunning smile remains. “Of course not. I don’t need to sneak out anymore, Luca. I’m a grown woman now, or haven’t you noticed?” His eyes flare for a moment. “I’m meeting Bianca later, and since you’re my new shadow that means so are you.”
I turn on my heels and brush my long, dark-brown hair over my shoulders. This is going to be so much fun.
The club Bianca and I are at is packed with sweaty bodies dancing along to the loud music. The place is dark minus the light coming from the DJ booth and, of course, the bar. It’s a typical Boston party spot and one I knew would irritate the hell out of Luca. When I called Bianca to have her meet me here after talking to my father, she was more than a little surprised this was the one I picked.
“Girl,” she says, leaning into my ear as we stand at the bar waiting to order our drinks. “Luca does not look happy.”
I look at the man in question and feel a certain sense of satisfaction. He looks just as unhappy now as he did when I met him at the front door in my tight white bodycon dress that dipped low in the front and was held together by silver chains in the back that reached well below my waist. Nor was he happy when I pulled a flask from my small jeweled purse and took a long pull of vodka before leaving the driveway.
“That’s just his face, Bianca. Tragic, if you think about it.”
I plaster a fake pout on my face, and Bianca laughs.
After getting our drinks, Bianca and I toast with the cheap plastic cups and take a sip.
“I’m honestly surprised you wanted to come here. This really isn’t your scene,” Bianca tells me.
“I wanted something a little different.” I shrug a shoulder, not wanting to be honest about why this is where I chose tonight because, honestly, it’s a little juvenile. But I can’t seem to help from acting like the brokenhearted teenager who wants to prove some point to Luca rather than the woman I’ve grown into and recognize he’s just doing his job. It’s never felt like that for me, and I fucking hate it.
“Hi.” A man who looks like he’s spent a few too many hours at the gym and way too much time doing his hair slides between Bianca and me. “I saw you standing here and thought to myself, that girl looks like she needs to dance.”
Ugh.
“Do I?” I say coyly instead of brushing him off like I normally would. You know, if these were normal circumstances. “With whom?”
His too-white smile broadens as he moves a tad closer. “Me, of course. Come on, legs. Dance with me.”
Legs? God, this guy is a douche. Not that it matters right now.
Another man, who seems to have spent an equal amount of time at the gym working on his arms, is trying to chat up Bianca. She doesn’t look impressed.
“Sure,” I tell the guy in front of me. I set my empty cup on the bar and catch Bianca’s gaze before tilting my head toward the dance floor. Seeing my intent, she rolls her eyes but allows the meathead she’s talking to lead her to the floor.
We stay at the edge where Luca can keep an eye on us, the one concession I gave him without argument, as the man wearing far too much cologne grinds against me. Who the hell told this guy, or any other one for that matter, that dancing with a girl like you’re trying to fuck her in front of everyone is attractive? I try to back up, but he keeps pulling me back to him. After a few more songs pass, I’m ready to call it quits since this guy can’t seem to keep his damn hands to himself. He leans in and shouts in my ear, “I’m gonna go take a piss. Don’t go anywhere.”
He smiles down at me, and I force a plastic one on my face, having no intention of following his command.
Satisfied with my reaction, he smacks his hand on his friend’s shoulder and signals toward the bathroom. His friend nods and leans into Bianca, probably giving her the same line.
They leave and Bianca comes over to me, rolling her eyes. “These guys are fucking douchebags, Giada.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “I know. Let’s not be here when they get back.”
“Agreed,” she replies.
I turn toward where I last saw Luca standing and find the spot empty.
Jesus, for someone tasked with my protection, he’s doing a bang-up job already.
Bianca and I dance for another song sans the leeches that were attached to us, and Luca isn’t back yet. “Let’s go get another drink,” I suggest.
We get our cocktails, and as I turn toward the dance floor again, Luca comes from the direction of the bathrooms.
“We’re leaving,” he says when he approaches.
“Uh, no. We’re not. Bianca and I are waiting for a couple guys to come back from the bathroom.”
His eyes darken as he takes the drink from my hand and places it on the bar. “They aren’t coming back.” Luca turns to Bianca. “I’ve called you a car to take you home since you’ve been drinking.”
“Um, yeah.” Her eyes dart between Luca and me. “Okay, thanks.”
She never could stand up to him even when he was being an unreasonable Neanderthal.
“We’ll walk you out,” Luca tells her and holds his arm out, signaling for us to walk in front of him to the exit.
I give him a hard glare before turning my head toward where he came from and see the guy I was dancing with tumbling into the crowd with blood all over his crisp white button-down, holding his bloody nose.
My head whips to my asshole bodyguard. “Seriously, Luca?”
“Let’s go, Giada. Now.” His tone leaves no room for argument and since Bianca is already on her way out, I decide to follow rather than cause a scene.
When we get outside, the chilly night air cools my heated skin. Luca takes one look at me and takes his jacket off to cover me.
“I’m fine,” I grit out as he hands the valet his ticket.
He walks back over and leans in close, his lips nearly brushing my ear when he whispers, “That may be, but I’d rather not every person in downtown Boston see the shape of your hard nipples in that dress.”
I quickly look down and see my nipples poking through the dress that I’m not wearing a bra with before closing the jacket around myself.
“Thank you,” I reply with a tight voice.
Bianca’s car pulls up to the curb just before the valet returns with ours.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I tell my friend and unwitting partner in this little scheme to make Luca’s time guarding me as painful as possible before leaning in for a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she says, returning the embrace. “It’ll be like old times with both of us home.” When she pulls away, I give her a grateful smile. It will be nice to have someone to hang out with now that I’m back in the States for the next several months.
With Bianca safely in the car and on the way to her parents’ house, Luca directs me to ours and opens the door for me.
“Such a gentleman,” I say with a sarcastic bite.
“Get in the damn car.”
The second my feet are inside, he slams the door and stalks to the other side, opening his door and getting in. He puts the car in drive with an angry tug on the gear shifter and pulls out in traffic to take us back to my house. With his hands on the wheel, it’s then I notice the slightly swollen red knuckles across his fist and my anger spikes.
“What the hell is with you punching that guy? Just because he was dancing with me? That’s taking it a little far, even for you.” Honestly, I don’t know what would be considered too far for him since I haven’t been around him in years.
Luca shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I swear to Christ, Giada. I don’t know how you do it, but you manage to find yourself surrounded by the worst possible men.”
“Present company included.”
Luca tilts his head side to side and cracks his neck but doesn’t comment.
“We were just dancing.” I let out a very mature huff of annoyance.
“What you think you were doing and what those assholes thought you were doing were two entirely different things.”
“Did you ask them before you decided to act like a caveman and break that guy’s nose?”
“I didn’t have to ask him shit, Giada. When they were in the bathroom, they were practically high-fiving each other, convinced that they were going to take you and Bianca home, regardless of whether or not you came consciously. At least that's what it sounded like they were saying. It was hard to tell between the lines of coke they were snorting up their noses off the fucking bathroom counter.”
I take a breath and stare out the window. It was a dumb idea to go to that club. The place is notorious for assholes like that hanging out and girls getting way more fucked up than the couple of drinks they remember consuming would be responsible for. But I knew Luca would be miserable standing there all night among the sweaty gym rats looking for a quick lay.
There isn’t anything for me to say. He’s right, but I’m far too stubborn to admit that to him.
The next twenty minutes are spent in silence on the way back to my house. When we pull into the long driveway, we’re confronted by a sea of police cruisers, some unmarked but all with their bright red and blue lights flashing.
“Luca,” I choke out, my panicked gaze colliding with his.
He parks behind one of the unmarked cars and turns to me. “Stay here.”
Just as he gets out of the car, several figures emerge from under the portico. I slowly emerge from the vehicle, my eyes never leaving the man the police have in handcuffs.
My father.
I look at Luca, whose jaw is tight, as my father is led to one of the cars, a hand going to his head before being shoved into the cruiser.
Luca turns to me, my eyes wide with disbelief. In all the years I’ve been alive, my father has never been arrested at our home. I hold Luca’s stare as thoughts race through my head. What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Does Carlo know our father is on his way to jail?
The moment that last thought crosses my frazzled mind, I see my brother standing on the steps that lead into the house, a small smile ghosting his lips. I know that smile, remember it quite well from our childhood, and I know damn well it doesn’t mean anything good.
Before anyone can stop me, I’m running toward my brother. A few officers shout, but I pay them no mind.
“Carlo, What the hell is going on?”
My brother gives me his signature bland look. The good thing about being in Italy nearly half the year is I don’t have to deal with the asshole standing in front of me.
“Oh, you’re back.”
“Yes Carlo,” I begin with a bite to my voice. “I got back this morning. Are you going to tell me why our father is being shoved into a police cruiser?”
“I would think it’s obvious, Giada. He’s being arrested.” He looks back toward the driveway where the cars are pulling out as though the fact that I’m standing here hardly registers in his thick skull.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Carlo. I’m not an idiot. Where are they taking him? Have you called his lawyers?”
He lets out an annoyed sigh and looks behind me. I turn briefly and find Luca at my back, his gaze flicking between Carlo and me. “You couldn’t have kept her in the car?” he asks my bodyguard.
“She ran off before I could stop her. Do we know anything?”
“They’re taking him to the station. The feds showed up about thirty minutes ago with a warrant. I’ll know more when I talk to his lawyers.”
The fact that Carlo is answering Luca’s questions and treats me like an annoying fly buzzing around sends rage coursing through my body.
“Talk to me, Carlo. Tell me what’s going on. I’m his daughter, goddamnit.”
He finally looks back at me. There’s still annoyance in his cold gaze, but something else, too. Something darker. “What’s going on is our father has been arrested, most likely never to see freedom again. What that means for you is I’m now in charge of the family. What I say goes, and right now, you need to go to your room and stay there until you can calm the hell down. I don’t need your grating voice in my ear.”
He turns and walks back into the house, effectively dismissing me like he always did when we were growing up. To say Carlo and I have a strained relationship is putting it mildly. Even when I was a kid, he never had patience for me, often screaming at me to get out of his way or physically pushing me away. I never understood why he seemed to hate me, but there was never a time when he didn’t treat me like the gum on the bottom of his shoe. Now, he expects me to ask how high when he tells me to jump?
Well, screw that and screw him. I refuse to lie down and let my brother dictate my future.