26. Luca #2
“The women who Maglione kidnapped,” she explains. “I might not know everything that they’ve been through, not the intimate details, but I know how terrified I was when they had me locked up there—when they were threatening me, telling me what they were going to do to me…”
She swallows hard, her throat rising and falling as she pulls herself together again. Though she doesn’t talk about it much, always quick to tell me that she barely scratched the surface of what the other women went through, I know the kidnapping has left an indelible mark on her.
“And I want to do what I can to help them.”
My father raises his eyebrows, prompting her to keep going.
“I know there will be plenty of women looking for a way to get back on their feet now that they’re free from all the bullshit Maglione put them through—uh, excuse my language,” she quickly corrects herself, flushing slightly.
I nudge her with my foot under the table, a silent reminder that this man has heard a whole lot worse than a little cursing over the years.
“And I want to help them onto the right track,” she goes on. “I have experience in politics, petitioning people, setting up support groups that could actually help…”
I can tell that my father is impressed by her certainty, a smile spreading over his face as he nods. “I’m sure I could see some way to setting you up with something like that,” he agrees, and she grins widely.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I know I have a lot to learn about this world, but I…I want to be a part of it. I want to make a difference.”
I can tell that something has shifted in my father’s mind, at the sound of those words coming out of her mouth—knowing that she’s not just enduring this life, but that she might actually thrive in it, that makes all the difference.
But as he reaches for the glass of wine sitting on the table before him, I can tell that his mind has moved on to other things—in fact, the very thing he came here for in the first place.
“Now,” he remarks. “When am I going to get to meet my granddaughter…?”
Polly is asleep by the time my father gets to her room, and he lingers in the doorway for a moment, just watching her from afar. It might not be the meeting he pictured, but he just seems happy to be around her at all.
“She looks just like you did at that age,” he remarks to me, and to my surprise, I hear an edge of emotion to his voice. My father does all in his power to keep whatever is going on inside his head to himself, but I suppose the sight of this new generation has shifted things slightly for him.
All at once, Polly’s eyes flicker open, as though she can sense the eyes on her. She looks over toward the door, and Katie hurries over to pick her up, scooping her against her chest.
“Oh, did we wake you, sweetheart?” she murmurs, and Polly reaches up for her mother, her little chubby hands brushing against Katie’s hair. She’s been grabbing it in chunks recently, and Katie is forever disentangling her locks from her daughter’s fingers.
“I guess she must sense her grandfather is in the room,” she remarks, looking over to my father with a smile. She steps toward him, raising her eyebrows. “Would you like to?—”
“Hold her? Yes, I would,” he replies, not even giving her time to finish what she’s saying before he’s formed his arms into a cradle for our little girl. Katie carefully slides Polly into his grip, and for a moment, Dad just stands there and stares down at her.
I can tell that he’s having as hard a time wrapping his head around this as I am. All the generations of his family—the living ones, at least—standing together in this room…the family’s past, its future, everything laid out before us.
“She’s perfect,” he remarks, and for a second, I can see a younger version of him in the room with me—the version that must have held me the same way, held Emil…
A man who has just come to terms with this child being a part of him now.
His face softens, and she reaches out to touch his cheek.
He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation brush through him, and then he hands her back to Katie.
“Quick, before I start getting too emotional,” he mutters gruffly.
I chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this…”
“When it’s your granddaughter, you’ll understand,” he replies, his eyes slightly misty as he looks back to me. And the way he says it, I’m sure I will—even if a new generation is at least a couple of decades away for the time being.
We say our goodbyes once he’s met Polly, and Katie breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he’s out of the house.
“Okay, that went better than I thought it would,” she admits, as the two of us head down to the bedroom to get some rest. She has been buzzing around all day, hardly able to sit down or relax for a moment, and I know she must be exhausted.
“I knew it would,” I reply, as she sinks down in front of her dressing table to take off her earrings and her makeup. I watch her for a moment, drinking in her reflection in the mirror, and then move to her side to rest my hands on her shoulders, giving them a light rub.
“You did so well tonight,” I murmur to her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
She smiles at me in the mirror, her face fresh and bare.
She looks so beautiful like this, with no mask or makeup on.
I can still remember the first time we met, when she was hiding her identity, though it seems a million miles away right now.
“Thanks,” she sighs. “Though I feel like your dad isn’t entirely happy that we’re not married yet…”
“Oh, he’ll always find something to complain about,” I reply with a grin. “He’s old-fashioned like that.”
“So you don’t think he’s going to set the wedding date for us whether or not we ask?” she jokes back.
I chuckle. “Oh, I didn’t say that,” I shoot back. “He’s probably booking the cathedral right now?—”
“The cathedral?” she gasps. “You can’t be serious.”
“Hey,” I assure her. “Remember, this is our wedding. Our marriage. Everything happens on our terms. You want a big event, we can have one. You want something small, we can have it. Whatever you want, okay?”
She grins at me in the mirror, and then turns to face me properly.
“I think I’d like to set a date,” she admits, after a brief pause. “I mean, I know all of this is…I know a whole hell of a lot has been going on. But I’m ready to be your wife.”
“My wife,” I remark, a grin licking up my face. “You know, I like the sound of that…”
“I’d hope so,” she laughs, as I guide her out of her chair and into my arms. “You’re the one who proposed to me…”
“Say it again,” I tell her as I sink my lips to her neck. She moves into me slightly, sensing where I’m going with this.
“What, that I’m going to be your wife?”
“Mmm,” I groan, my fingertips digging into her waist. “Yeah, that. I like that. I like that a lot…”
I find her mouth with mine, and I kiss her deeply, the two of us intertwining ourselves in one another as the sun dips low in the sky outside.
After tonight, I feel even more certain that she is the woman I’m meant to be with—my father respects her, and he doesn’t offer that kind of approval to just anyone.
She’s part of this world now, and she seems as determined as possible to make the very best of it she can.
I hitch her onto the dressing table behind her, and sink down to my knees so I can spread her legs—she’s wearing this light green dress that hugs her ass perfectly, and I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t caught myself shooting a few looks at it over the course of the night.
“You know, I don’t think I got the dessert I wanted tonight,” I murmur to her playfully, as I slowly push the hem of her dress up. She squirms on the table before me, her teeth resting on her bottom lip.
“Oh, yeah?” she replies, voice slightly breathy. “And what exactly would that be…?”
“I think you know…”
I reach beneath her skirt and hook my fingers around her panties, pulling them down slowly, exposing her inch by inch until she’s naked beneath her skirt.
She parts her legs a little wider as I graze my lips along the inside of her thigh, listening to the delicious shudder of pleasure that moves through her when she feels my mouth against hers.
“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers as she slides her hands into my hair, pulling me into place as though she can’t imagine anything better.
I’m tempted to keep her waiting a little while longer, to tease this out until she’s begging for the feel of my mouth against her pussy, but truth be told, I can’t imagine holding back much longer.
I let my lips trail along her tattoo, the same peacock that allowed me to recognize her at the hospital back when we encountered each other once more.
I’ve never really been into tattoos, but the ink on her skin seems to reflect something in me—the image that she has burned into my body, of herself, her love, her touch.
I kiss the peacock’s tail feathers, teasing her for just a little longer as her hips rise and try to grind against my face to indulge in the relief I know she needs so badly.
And then, tucking my hands beneath her ass, I pull her to the edge of the table and plant my lips against her gorgeous pussy.
She moans as she feels my lips latch around her clit, rolling her sensitive nub between my tongue as I suck on her lightly. She’s so sensitive that even the barest touch can be overwhelming to her, and I know I have to take my time if I’m going to get my fill of her the way I want to.
I swirl my tongue around her a few times, tasting the sweet muskiness of her folds, and let out a moan against her.
She bucks against me, her body already responding to my attention.
Her fingers weave into my hair, holding me in place, as though there’s anywhere in the world I would rather be right now than between her thighs, getting her off.