Chapter 11 #2
He even called her an Uber so she could take her injured boyfriend to the hospital, which was pretty damn generous, considering they were there to rob him.
But he made her swear not to say a word about me.
He told her straight. That her life depended on her silence.
She eventually agreed, but can we really trust her?
Like she said, ten grand is a lot of money for someone with her kind of addiction.
Desperation makes people reckless. Unpredictable.
And now that I know more about her story and how she ended up like this, I understand her a little more.
It doesn’t mean I forgive her for all the shitty things she has done to her son.
She probably would’ve perished a long time ago if it weren’t for him.
I used to drink occasionally to shut out all of the pain and anger.
I thought I was escaping it all by numbing the suffering, but it wasn’t an escape; it was a cage.
Every time I sobered up, my problems were right there waiting for me.
All it gave me was guilt, shame, and a pounding hangover to add to the pile of shit that was my life back then.
It wasn’t relief. It was a delay—a slow bleed. And when the bottle was empty, all that pain came rushing back, with interest.
“When are you going to tell Dante about what happened tonight?”
“I’m going to call him as soon as we get home.”
Home.
Our living arrangement was never meant to be permanent, but I’m not ready for it to come to an end. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I need more time to make this man see himself the way I do. To prove that real love doesn’t have to break you. It isn’t built on betrayal, pain, or survival.
He needs to understand that home isn’t something you have to run from; it can be a place you choose.
The world drains those who feel the deepest. Soft hearts carry heavy loads, not out of weakness, but because they refuse to become what broke them. What we don’t talk about enough is the emotional cost of being good in a selfish world.
Romeo shows up with love. His mother shows up with an agenda.
He gives to build. She takes to survive.
He speaks a language of loyalty and care, but no one around him wants to understand it. Not even her.
But I do.
She treats him like a convenience. Her affection is conditional. And he’s left in the aftermath, asking himself, “Is there something wrong with me?”
There is nothing wrong with him. Having a soft heart comes with consequences. He’s misused and overlooked by the one person who should love him the most. His mother. His flesh and blood.
She uses his love for her as a weapon. If my father taught me anything, it was to stop expecting people with shallow intentions to handle your heart like it’s something sacred. The only thing wrong here is how the world treats people like him.
I’ve figured out how to guard my heart without feeling guilty. He needs to do the same. This man deserves more than the scraps life has handed him. He deserves everything.
He doesn’t have to stop caring about that woman, but he has to stop carrying the load for that waste of fucking air.
I open the front door with narrowed eyes, already prepared for what I’m about to face.
“Lucia,” Dante growls when his eyes lock with mine. “Why are you answering the door?”
“Romeo is in the shower. He told me you were on the way over, so I knew it was safe to answer.”
“I was nearby when we spoke.”
“Hmm,” I hum, unimpressed.
“Are you going to let me in?”
“That depends,” I reply, lifting my chin slightly.
“You remind me of your sister when you do that.”
“Do what?”
He points at my face. “Give me that ‘don’t fuck with me’ look.”
I straighten my spine and pull my shoulders back. “I learnt from the best.”
“I can see that,” he replies, followed by a chuckle.
I stand there, stoic, still debating whether I’m going to let him inside or not.
“Well?” he asks.
“Well, what?”
“Can I come in?”
“Like I said, it depends.”
“You do realise I own this house, right?”
“That is irrelevant. Are you here as friend or foe?”
“Fucking hell, Luc. Do you honestly think I’m here to hurt him?”
“If you are, you’ll need to get through me first.”
He holds a hand out in front of him. “I’m here to talk, nothing more. Naturally, I’m pissed he took you there without my permission, but he’s my best friend, my underboss. I don’t take either of those things lightly.”
“I made him take me along,” I admit. “He didn’t want me to go.”
“He should’ve called me or had someone else deal with it.”
“Do you honestly think he was going to let anyone else deal with that woman? You know how he is. He’s private. He’s—”
“Too fucking good to that cunt,” Dante says, cutting me off.
“I agree.”
“Can I come in now? I bought one of Caterina’s outfits for you to sniff. Arabella told me you were missing her baby smell.”
When he holds up the bag, I snatch it out of his hand and bring the little pink onesie inside to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smells like baby powder and the faintest trace of her, that sweet, elusive scent I thought I’d never catch again. My chest tightens with longing.
“Fine,” I say, taking a step back and opening the door wider. “But you could’ve smuggled her here instead.”
He leans in and pecks my cheek as he passes. “You know I can’t do that,” he replies. “But this shit will be over soon enough, and you can come home.”
Home.
I want that more than anything. But the hardest part about that is knowing my time here with Romeo will have to end.
The thought lodges in the back of my throat like a stone.