Chapter 9
Lucia
I’m on my bed, lying with my arms and legs spread wide, on top of the covers, with my gaze trained at the ceiling despite not being able to see anything in the darkness. I’m unable to sleep. I keep going over the conversation Romeo had with me earlier today, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
I wish I could climb inside his head and shake some sense into that stubborn brain of his. I’d also love to get my hands on his mother and give her a thorough, in-depth bitch-slapping for the irreparable damage she’s caused her son over the years. My heart bleeds for that little boy.
I don’t know much about his childhood, but what he’s shared was more than enough. The way he talks is so guarded and vague. He’s only scratching the surface, and I can guarantee there’s a world of pain he’s still too wary to name.
My own upbringing was far from perfect—my father made sure of that—but at least I had a loving Mamma for those first seven years of life. I also had my sister, Arabella.
Who did he have to hold on to when it all got too heavy? Who told him he was enough? I’m beginning to think the answer might be nobody.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when there’s a light tap at my door. “Luc, you awake?” I hear Romeo ask.
“Yeah,” I say, quickly sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.
When I open the door a few seconds later, I find him standing in the hallway fully dressed.
My eyes peruse down the length of his body. “Are you going out?” I ask. He went to bed hours ago.
“I won’t be long. I just wanted to let you know in case you were looking for me and I wasn’t here.”
“Where are you going at this time of night?”
Please don’t let it be a booty call.
I catch his wince as he turns his gaze away from mine. “To pick my mother up. I don’t want her walking home alone this time of night.”
“Where is she?”
He blows out a long breath. “At the police station. She got caught driving under the influence while on a suspended licence.”
“Oh, Romeo,” I say, automatically reaching for his hand to give it a light squeeze. When his gaze moves down to where my fingers are wrapped around his and he frowns, I instantly let go.
Boundaries, Lucia, I remind myself.
It’s time I respected his wishes, whether I like them or not. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to break a man who is clearly already broken, and for that, I feel like a terrible human being.
“I won’t be long. I’ll lock the door on my way out,” he tells me as he retreats a step, putting distance between us. It hurts, but I try not to take it personally this time. “Don’t answer the door to anyone, and call me if there’s an issue.”
“Can I come with you?”
He runs his hand down his face before saying, “I don’t think that is a good idea. My mother won’t be in a good mood, and I … umm don’t want to subject you to that.”
“My father put a gun to my head more times than I can count. I think I can handle whatever she has to dish out.”
I see a storm brewing in his eyes and a flicker of vulnerability that he rarely lets show.
His gaze falters just slightly, like he’s holding back the truth before he confesses, “I don’t want you to meet her, and not for the reasons you may think. I’m—”
“Embarrassed,” I say, finishing his sentence.
“Fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back.
“I get it. I had a fucked-up parent too, you know.”
His eyes move back to me as he scans my face, searching for what, I don’t know. He met Papa, so he knows exactly what he was like.
“I don’t think bringing you along is a good idea, Lucia.”
“Please. I’ll sit in the back seat and won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m there. I promise. I just …”
“Just what?”
I don’t want you to face this alone.
“I’ll get scared here without you,” I lie.
He arches an accusing eyebrow. “Being alone doesn’t seem to bother you when I take Killer for a walk.”
“Because that’s during the day, and I know you’re close by. It’s the middle of the night—”
“Okay,” he breathes, making it sound more like a sigh.
A smile tugs at my lips. “So, I can come?”
“On one condition,” he adds.
“My lips are sealed,” I say, running my thumb and forefinger across my clenched mouth, zipping it shut.
His eyes briefly skim down my body before rushing back to my face. “I was going to say as long as you put some pants on.”
I’m wearing an unzipped grey hoodie over my white singlet top, but when I glance down at the barely there underwear on my lower half, I wince.
“I’ll throw something on and be right out.”
My attention is glued to the side window as Romeo pulls up to the curb in front of the police station. The dark tint on his black Range Rover obscures me from the view of the outside world, wrapping around me like a shield.
A short, dark-haired woman paces outside. There’s a slight limp in her step as she shifts her weight anxiously from foot to foot, rubbing her hands down her bare arms with each pass. She’s not dressed for this weather—just a thin shirt, no jacket—and she’s probably freezing her arse off out there.
I’ve been curious to know what Romeo’s mother looks like ever since he first mentioned her, but she’s nothing like I imagined. She’s small, delicate, and pretty, with a fragile appearance that doesn’t align with the picture I had in my mind.
From this distance, she looks younger than I expected, which only makes it harder to reconcile her with the reality of her addiction. It’s unsettling. Part of me feels a pull of sympathy towards her, but I know I need to remain guarded nevertheless.
My gaze shifts to Romeo, and I catch him watching her from the driver’s seat. The conflict etched across his face tugs at something deep inside me. He looks hesitant, heartbroken, and maybe even a little afraid.
I want to reach out, rest a hand on his shoulder, and let him know I’m here for him.
Make him see he doesn’t have to face this alone anymore, but I don’t.
He wouldn’t want my pity, and I promised that if he let me come along, he wouldn’t even notice I was here.
So, I stay quiet, a silent presence, offering what support I can from the background.
The car is still idling as he finally blows out a long breath before placing his hand on the button to wind down the passenger-side window. “Mum,” he calls out as he leans over in his seat so she can see him.
My eyes move back to her just in time to see her pause and then throw her hands in the air. The scowl she’s sporting as she turns and rushes towards the car has me grinding my back teeth together.
Any sympathy I had for this woman a few moments ago vanishes the second she opens the passenger-side door and climbs inside.
“About fucking time,” she bitches. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Hello to you too,” Romeo retorts as he stares over at her with a look I can’t quite decipher. “And maybe try wearing more clothes next time you go out at night.”
“Yes, Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes. “What took you so long?”
“I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t quick enough.”
“I wasn’t at my place when you called.”
“Huh, figures. Doing a hit were you, or just whoring yourself around again? I swear that dick of yours will fall off one day if you don’t learn how to keep it in your pants.”
Her words knock the breath out of me, but thankfully, she’s too focused on tearing down her son to notice the strangled gasp I let out from the back seat.
It takes everything I have to stay silent and swallow down the fury that’s clawing its way up my throat, resisting the urge to speak up in his defence.
I shove my hands under my thighs, pinning them down, because God help me, I’m two seconds away from grabbing her by that grimy ponytail of hers and telling her to show some fucking respect.
“That’s rich coming from you,” he says finally.
His voice is low and tight, like he’s holding back an explosion.
He flicks his chin towards the building she was just standing outside of before putting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb.
“And for the record, I don’t go around killing people. ”
“But you have killed people?” Her reply sounds more like a question than a statement, and I wonder if Elio was his first, or if there have been others.
“When did you lose your licence?” he asks, ignoring the last thing she said. I know all too well about the code of silence that comes with being part of the Cosa Nostra, so I already knew he wouldn’t answer her. “And why the fuck were you driving around without one?”
“I needed to get something, it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big fucking deal,” he yells, losing his patience. “You were high and unlicensed. There’s a probability you could go back to prison.”
“Says the guy who works for the mob.”
“You do realise that the car is registered in my name. What if you had an accident?”
“It’s not like you can’t afford to replace it. Look at you in your fancy arse clothes, driving your fancy car, like you’re too good for me all of a sudden. Did you forget where you came from?”
The look he throws his mother as his eyes flick briefly from the road is pure fury, laced with something colder … disgust. And even though it’s not my place, I can’t help but feel bad for him.
I know that feeling all too well. It’s the kind of disappointment that can only come from having a shitty parent. The type that doesn’t just sting in the moment but settles in deep, becoming a quiet, familiar ache you carry for years without even realising how heavy it’s gotten.
It’s the silent pain that makes you question your worth, even when some part of you knows better. But I’m not sure this man even realises how worthy he truly is. He keeps showing up, steady and dependable, for someone who’s done nothing to deserve it. For a person who wouldn’t do the same for him.
Since she got in the car, all she’s done is put him down and verbally attack him. He’s risking a lot just being out here with me, but I doubt she’d care, even if she knew.