Chapter Eighteen
I fidget nervously in the back of the car.
I’m being driven to a meeting with Enzo.
I don’t know what he wants from me. He hasn’t shown any interest in me…
ever. I never knew him growing up, and a few months ago, he turned up, inviting my sister to some wedding.
My sister accepted, and I was forced to go to chaperone her.
I mean, come on, what the fuck? Turns out she’s paraded around like some trophy.
Then offered to some thuggish dude as his bride.
He accepted; they didn’t even have a conversation.
We were immediately dismissed and sent home.
When we got back, Mum was so excited, and she and my sister went into full-blown wedding dress shopping.
Enzo lavished her with clothes and jewellery so she could look the part.
It was sickening, really. I should note that my mum was always Enzo’s mistress, never his wife.
So, I suppose my sister has managed something my mum never could. To marry into one of the notoriously prestigious families.
I shake my head. Neither of them noticed me again, but I’m not surprised.
I slipped out the door and haven’t seen or heard from any of them since.
Until yesterday, Enzo sent word that I would be picked up and to dress smartly.
I’m wearing the same suit I wore to the wedding, as it’s the only one I own.
It’s the only thing he ever gave me. He couldn’t have us turning up to the wedding and embarrassing him, apparently.
My sister lapped it up, getting a designer dress, handbag, and shoes to match, as well as new jewellery and makeup, and having her hair and nails done. Personally, I chose a modest, smart suit that I can wear to interviews once I finish university.
The door opens, startling me from my thoughts. I step out of the vehicle in front of a high-rise building. My gaze follows the lines of the building higher and higher until I reach the top and the name in silver letters along the facia “De Luca Enterprises.”
I blow out a breath and step towards the building, climbing the steps until I reach the large glass door. It swings open for me as I raise my hand to push inside. I stumble a little and glare at the doorman for making me look like a twat. I step to the reception desk.
“I have an appointment with Enzo De Luca.”
The woman never looks up, fingers tapping away on the keys of her computer.
“Name?” she snaps, like I’m inconveniencing her by making her do her job.
“Leo Christian.”
“Sorry, I have nothing.”
“Try Leonardo De Luca.” I shake my head. He’s not wanted anything to do with us, refused to sign the birth certificates, never claimed us as his until that stupid wedding.
“Take a seat, Mr De Luca. Your father will send someone down shortly.”
Narcissistic wanker. Doesn’t claim us for the last twenty years, now changes my name with no acknowledgement. We never had his name. We have our mother’s surname. She was never good enough to be a De Luca, either.
I wait a further thirty minutes before I’m summoned to his office.
I follow behind his assistant, eyes flicking as I take in every plaque on the wall, every glass-fronted office, until we reach a door at the end of the corridor.
The assistant knocks and pushes inside, gesturing for me to take a seat.
My father is standing with his back to me, gazing out of the window, smoking a cigar with a glass of what looks like whiskey in his hand, swilling it by his side.
I wait for what seems like an eternity before he turns and nods to me in a way of greeting, and then places his glass down on the desk, puts his cigar between his teeth, and takes the file from his assistant’s hand, nodding and dismissing them.
He flicks through the pages, reading whatever’s inside before nodding and closing the file, placing it gently on the desk.
He removes the cigar from his mouth and lays it on the ashtray.
I watch the smoke as it creeps out from the cigar, mesmerising in the silence of the room.
“There’s been an offer of marriage.”
I nod. “Yeah, my sister’s gonna marry that rich guy.” I screw my face up at the thought. “I don’t get what that’s got to do with me.”
“Change of plan. He doesn’t want to marry your sister.”
I stare at him. I know that. He told me so, but I still don’t get what this has got to do with me. I don’t say anything. I just stare at him. Taking in the features of his face. Do I look like him? Do I have any of his personality traits? Why did he never want us? Why does he want us now?
“You seem okay with that?” I glance up to meet his gaze.
“What?” What did he say? “Okay with what?”
“The proposal. I expected some pushback, but this will happen.”
I just stare at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Bellino Ricci has agreed to the joining of our families; he has a list of… conditions. The main one being that he will be marrying you and not your sister.”
“Wait, what?”
“The date will rem…”
“Are you serious? I’m not fucking gay.”
He waves his hand as if it’s not important and carries on talking.
“No!” I stand, shaking my head. “No! I will not marry him. I’m not into men. I won’t.”
“I’m not asking you, Leonardo. You are a De Luca. You will take one for the team and secure this union. You will not tell him no… ever. If he wants you to wear a fucking tutu while he fucks you, you will fucking do it. You will bend over and take whatever that man deems fit to give you.”
“Funny, I haven’t been a De Luca my whole fucking life. I ain’t starting now.” I stand from my seat. “It’s a no from me. I will not be bending over for anyone.”
“Sit back down,” he yells at me. His fists crash into the table. “I am your father. You will fucking do what I say. You will fucking marry him, and you will make him the happiest fucking man in the country. Do. You. Fucking. Hear. Me?”
I huff a breath, shake my head, and turn to leave. He’s around the table before I can reach the door. He snatches hold of the back of my head, thrusting me into the wall beside the door. He crashes against my back.
“You will not ruin this for the family.” I struggle and spin in his arms, but he steps back and punches me in the stomach.
I double over, coughing and spluttering, and he lashes out again, punching me square in the face.
The pain rips through me, my head spins to the side as my nose splits, pouring blood down my chin.
Dripping onto my shirt as I grab for him.
Eyes watering and streaming. I sob out. Shock rings out as I start to panic.
I slide down the wall. As my butt hits the floor, he crouches over me, his hand grasping at my throat.
I claw at his wrist, trying to hold him back, but he squeezes tighter and leans in, snarling in my face.
“Pull yourself together. You will marry him. You think this hurts? He is a million times more ruthless than me. You don’t say no to me. You certainly don’t say no to Bellino Ricci and live! Now go home and clean yourself fucking up. I will arrange everything. You will get married in two weeks.”
He yanks the door open, releases my throat, and as I stand on shaky legs, he pushes me out into the corridor, slamming the door behind me. I stumble out, and the assistant stands from his desk before he steps in front of me.
“This way, sir. I’ll see you out.” He walks off ahead of me, and I hang my head and follow along while trying to stop my nose from pouring down my face.
I practically run into my dorm room as I throw the door closed behind me.
I run to my bed and flop down on it, tears streaming down my face.
I sob uncontrollably into my pillow as I try to fathom what the hell is happening and how I ended up in this situation.
A total stranger walked into my life a few months ago and has turned it upside down because we share fucking DNA?
How is this real? How am I supposed to marry a man?
What would that even be for? I don’t know how to get out of this situation.
But I’m startled from my spiral by the knock at the door.
I stand up and try to wipe my face. I look through the peephole, and it’s someone holding an envelope.
I don’t open the door. I head into the shower to clean off and sort out my face.
I shower, clean myself up, and try to control the bruising that is starting to show on my face and neck, and is already prominent on my ribs.
I step back into the room with a towel around my waist. Little beads of water still coat my skin.
The envelope is pushed under the door. I bend down and pick it up.
It’s heavy. The envelope looks expensive.
I peel it open and pull out the thick black card, swirling letters litter it with my name, well, Leonardo De Luca and Bellino Ricci.
It’s an invitation to an engagement party.
My engagement party. Are they fucking kidding me right now?
I drop the invite onto the floor and flop down on my bed.
How the hell did it all go so wrong? Where the hell can I get help to get me out of this?
The door clicks open, and I scream out as Darius pushes in, looking startled and concerned as I start to hyperventilate on the bed.
“Fuck, dude, you okay?” He looks at me, then comes straight over to me and lifts my chin, the bruising showing more prominently on my skin now. “What the hell happened, Leo?”
I lift a shaky hand to the invite on the floor, and he bends down and picks it up, reading it. He shakes his head. “Fuck, Leo, what have you gotten yourself into?”
I just shake my head. “I don’t know, I just don’t know.”