Chapter 31
Luciano
It had been eighteen days since the wedding. Twelve since she killed a man. Ava’s training was on hold—doctor’s orders. She’d had the fibroid removed. The procedure had gone smoothly, but I hated seeing her under anesthesia, hated the hospital scent clinging to her skin. I almost prayed.
Now, we were just... existing. It was odd, the quiet. No violence or talks of violence. Just me and Ava in our world. She’d declined a honeymoon. I thought it would be a good time, but she said, “Maybe on our anniversary.”
Her saying that to me stayed with me. I thought about it when I washed the dishes. When I sat across from her eating the dinner she cooked for us. When I stood over her at night watching her sleep. It meant we had a future. And she was thinking about it.
I hadn’t spoken to my father since the wedding. I sent a message the day after everything happened. Just a brief, I’m alive. He responded by telling me to come home. I hadn’t responded. I wanted to leave my life behind for a while longer. But not for much longer. I had responsibilities.
I was on the couch with Ava now. She had her feet in my lap, a blanket over her legs, and one of my favorite comic books open in front of her.
Moon Knight. It had a complicated storyline. Split personalities. Unreliable narration. Psychological trauma. Redemption arcs. She wanted to know what it was about, and I was trying to explain it in the most logical way possible, but she wasn’t getting it.
“So he’s like Batman but times three, in the same body,” she said.
I blinked. “No. He’s not like Batman inside one body.” I tried not to raise my voice. “He’s three different personalities. All of them fighting for control.”
She frowned. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is. That’s the point. Marc Spector—he’s the main identity—has dissociative identity disorder. But he’s also the avatar for Khonshu, an Egyptian god of vengeance.”
Her eyes widened. “So wait—he has real mental health issues and a god in his head?”
“Yes.”
“Who are the others?”
“Steven. He’s the soft one. British. Polite. Doesn’t want to fight. Then there’s Jake. He’s…Unstable. Efficient. He gets things done without anyone’s permission.”
She tilted her head, about to say something else when there was a knock at the door.
I stood immediately, setting her feet aside and reaching for the gun tucked between the couch cushions.
I checked the peephole.
Saint.
Still, I opened the door slowly, the barrel aimed low.
Saint stood on the other side, flustered and annoyed. “Seriously?” he said, eyeing the gun. “You answer the door like a hitman?”
“I didn’t invite you.”
He stepped inside anyway, brushing past me. “Your wife did. Now shut up and listen, I ran up the fucking stairs…”
I looked back to Ava, who was sitting on the sofa looking at me, guilt written all over her face. I shouldn’t have given her a phone.
Saint drew my attention by slamming his hand down on my shoulder. “Aria’s coming up with your wife’s cousin,” he said. “And I need you to do that masking shit you do—whatever the fuck you call it—and apologize to her for what you said to her. Out of societal norms or whatever you say…”
I blinked once. “Why would I do that?”
“You made Aria cry. I don’t want to have to shoot you in the arm your wife didn’t, to prove to her I’m on her side. Just apologize.”
It was a strange request.
Seconds later, Aria walked in with Dewanda, all baby bump and attitude. Ava stood to greet them, but I caught her wrist and pulled her back into the bedroom before she could take another step.
“Luciano,” she said, startled, “what—”
“You can’t let people just come here,” I said evenly, closing the door behind us. “Even if it’s your cousin. Even if it’s my friend. Not without a conversation first. You want to remain safe?”
She looked up at me, exasperated. “It’s Saint and Dewanda. It’s fine. I need to socialize.”
I studied her for a moment. “Am I not enough?”
She paused. “Can I kiss you?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Can I kiss you?”
We’d been building up to this. Little touches. Shared moments. But we hadn’t kissed since our wedding.
“Yes,” I said.
She rose to her tip toes. Her lips touched mine. Lightly.It was nice. The second she slid her tongue in my mouth—I snapped. My hands moved to her waist. I pushed her toward the bed. My fingers pulled at her shirt. I needed it off of her.
“Luciano,” she whispered, breathless. “Calm down.”
tugged the shirt again.
She slapped my hand.
“There are people here. I just wanted to show you are enough.”
“I can tell them to leave.” My dick was so hard and leaking. I was suddenly more ready than I’d ever been.
She laughed, hand still on my chest. “No. I’m cooking dinner. We’re going to entertain.”
My jaw tensed. I blinked once. Then twice.
Entertain?
I glanced toward the bedroom door as if I could see beyond it, then back at her, my mouth tightening into a flat line. Every cell in my body rebelled against the concept. My eye twitched.
But I nodded—slow, reluctantly.
Because she wanted it. And that was starting to matter more than my discomfort.
She left the bedroom, humming under her breath. I took a few breaths, adjusted my sweatpants.
Saint and Dewanda were already settled on the couch. Aria was sprawled in one of the chairs like she owned the place. Of course she was.
I approached her slowly. She looked up. I could tell a scowl was about to over take her face.
“Saint told me to apologize,” I said, tone flat. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with the truth. I assumed you were stronger. I will adjust.”
Aria gave a saccharine smile. “Thank you, Luciano. But don’t strain yourself. I know apologies aren’t in your programming.”
I tilted my head. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Take shots when I’m offering a white flag. Is it a defense mechanism? Because I will allow it. If it makes you feel better.”
Her smile faltered just a little, and I knew I was correct.
“Aht, aht,” Ava fussed. “Don’t you two start. You are just like each other.
Too Smart for your own good. Luciano wears glasses to hide behind and Aria uses femineity, but y’all are the same none the less. I understand it’s hard looking into a mirror and seeing a bright reflection of yourself but get over it.”
“I am not untrust—”
Ava cut me off. “Please, Luciano. Come help me cook.”
Saint remained quiet as usual, but I could see his jaw was tense. He wasn't pleased with me. I would refrain—for him.
I followed Ava to the kitchen.
Dinner was… tolerable.
I sat at the head of the table, as expected. Ava to my right, Saint across from me, flanked by Aria and Dewanda. The chairs were too close. The room too warm. Everyone talking at once. I was saying nothing as usual.
Saint was telling a story—something about a smuggler in Spain. His voice was too loud. His laugh even louder. I didn’t hear most of it. I will admit he seemed more relaxed—and dare I say it, happy—since Aria.
I couldn’t help noticing the way Dewanda looked at me. Every few seconds, her eyes cut in my direction like I’d insulted her mother and she was waiting for me to do it again so she could attack. I understood her hostility.
Aria barely ate. She pushed a piece of grilled squash around her plate like it had personally offended her. She smiled when Ava spoke, but I could tell my words had affected her.
If I’d paused long enough to calculate the kind of damage this life had to her body, her mind, her relationships—I might’ve masked and been nicer to her. I might have been more… strategic in response to her insults. People like us don’t deserve kindness, but we needed it.. Truth can sometimes cut deeper than a knife. I hadn’t thought about any of that until Ava. I would adjust my behavior.
Ava reached for my hand under the table, her pinky brushing against mine.
She laughed with Dewanda, her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted back. I just watched her.
Later, when Ava was saying goodbye to her cousin, I overheard something that made my chest swell.
“I think I’m really going to give this marriage a try. For real.”
Dewanda raised a brow. “Yeah? Even after all this mafia shit? The kidnapping. The shotgun wedding?”
Ava grinned. “Yes. I’ve been fascinated with Luciano since we were teens, since he walked into the dean's office. This shit is so surreal… I want to see where it goes,” she added, her voice dropping as she hugged Dewanda tighter.
I stayed perfectly still in the hallway, hidden in the shadows.
She said she had been fascinated with me. Since we were teens.
Those words stuck to me like glue. Fascinated. As if I were a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve but wouldn’t give up on.
I felt myself almost… smile.