Chapter 18
BELLA
I sit at the vanity staring at the collar around my neck in the mirror wishing I could have access to a computer to get this shit off me.
“How the hell has Zeke not cracked this thing yet?” I ask Zeke’s red swan sitting on top of Izzy’s—well probably Raina’s now that I’m thinking about it—jewelry box. She doesn’t answer. The bitch never does.
I look up and start fastening a diamond stud onto my ear. Taking extra care to keep my eyes from peering down at the C scabbing over on my forearm.
Luca picked out a black strapless dress with a plunging neckline deep enough it’s almost to my belly button for me to wear to dinner.
His idea of appropriate evening wear. Apparently it was one of my moms, along with everything else in that damn closet.
Fancy cocktail dresses, ugly blue and gold Revenants dance costumes, and skimpy lingerie.
To be honest, the dress is actually beautiful. It would definitely have the guys foaming at the mouth if they saw it. However, if this man expects me to put some slutty bra and panties on that my mother wore when she used to fuck my dad, he’s got another thing coming.
“Gross.” I gag, my entire body shaking in disgust.
I fasten the last earring and glance down at the letter from Aunt Claire, still folded neatly in the drawer.
Play his game, but never let him win.
Lovely advice, Claire.
Except for the fact that I’m supposed to be some main character in an overly dramatic Lifetime movie of a love story I don’t understand, nor have any clue as to how to play along. How in the world am I supposed to pretend to be my mother when I never even got the chance to meet her?
“You can do this,” I say, locking eyes with my reflection. “Just think of it as a mission. Go downstairs, assess your surroundings, gather intel, and then get your ass back up here to start making a plan.”
Fuck me, I’ve got to be losing all sense of reality if I’ve resorted to giving myself a pep talk, mission brief style, in front of my mirror.
Not to mention my little talks with the red swan.
Out loud.
I stand up and head downstairs, black stilettos clicking with each step. When I get to the dining room, I instantly hate myself for the gasp that escapes my mouth.
It’s beautiful. Taper candles of red and white are everywhere. Their flames shimmering like gold in the dim light. They cover the table, the hutch in the corner, and even the chandelier.
Two place settings sit at the end of the mahogany table, silver domes covering whatever this creep expects us to eat tonight. Crystal wine glasses and a bottle of something red sits next to a small loaf of bread.
“You like it, my love?” Luca’s voice pierces my ears from behind.
Flinching, I turn quickly to face him. He’s standing in the entryway in a black suit, clutching a bouquet of what has to be thirty or so blood-red roses.
“Your favorite,” he says, smiling as he places them in my arms.
Not my favorite, asshole.
“They’re lovely,” I say, forcing a smile and trying my hardest not to hurl them back at his skull.
He pulls out my chair and I glide in, setting the monstrosity of roses on the table next to me.
“You look beautiful, Izzy,” Luca says as he takes his seat, emerald eyes roaming down the plunging neckline of this dress.
Eyes up here, dickface.
“Thank you. It is a beautiful dress,” I admit, pulling my hand up out of habit to where my mother’s locket should be. I need to add that to my growing list of things to do while in this house, find out where the hell he’s hiding it.
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s fine,” I say, flinging my arms under the table so the C is out of eyesight. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not really. Just itches like hell.”
“Good.” He smiles while uncorking the bottle of wine. “Glad to hear that it’s healing.”
Glad it’s healing? Fuck you, Captain Asshat. It wouldn’t need to heal if you wouldn’t have forced my brother to—
Focus, bitch.
“Me too,” I nod, digging my fingernails into my thigh.
His fingers brush the stem of my glass as he draws it toward him. He tips the dark red liquid into it, watching closely as it pools at the shoulder.
“This,” he says, swirling the glass twice before setting it down in front of me. “Is the same bottle from Florence.”
“Florence?” The question slips from my mouth.
“Remember?” he asks, pouring himself a glass. “The celebration trip we took after you made The Revenants your freshman year.”
Of course, I don’t remember you idiot. Because I’m not my fucking mother!
“Right,” I lie, taking a sip. It’s dry and bitter. I’m so not a fan. I force myself to choke it down. “It’s just…”
Come on think, think, think.
“It’s just that Northvale was such a long time ago and I’m having a difficult time remembering,” I say, swirling my glass and avoiding his gaze. “Please don’t be mad. Certain things sometimes get a little fuzzy in my head. I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he says, resting a hand over mine. “Izzy, I could never be mad at you.” He squeezes gently. “I’ll help you remember, no matter how long it takes. We’ll find our way back to each other.”
Holy shit. That actually worked.
“So,” I say playfully. “What did you make us for dinner?”
He chuckles. “You know as well as anyone that I am a terrible cook.”
Well isn’t that a shocker!
“Right,” I say with a tight smile.
“But,” he adds. “I did get your favorite from Nora’s.”
He removes the silver dome off of my plate. My mouth waters as he reveals the most delicious looking lasagna I’ve ever seen. Thank the Lord my mother at least had the same taste in food as me. I’d hate to starve to death in this beautiful hell.
We eat in peace for a short while. Nothing but the sound of scraping forks and the smell of garlic and marinara filling the space between us.
“What is it, dear?” he finally asks.
“I was just,” I say, setting down my fork, “thinking about Ivan.”
He hums like he expected that. “I should shoot him for opening his mouth.”
“He said he was your cousin? And that I killed his brother, but I’ve seen Ivan’s file. He doesn’t have a brother.”
He nods. “Yes, that is what it says. But your intel is wrong, my love.” He takes a sip of his wine. “Ivan Nowak is just another Jack Donnelly, I’m afraid.”
He swirls his glass before sitting it down on the table and eyeing me closely. “You remeber when I created Jack, right?”
“How the hell would I remember?” I snap, chair scraping into the wood as I push back from the table. “You keep talking to me like I’m my mother but newsflash nutjob, I’m not!”
“Izzy, please,” he says calmly. “Sit down.”
“No!” I yell. “You’re insane! Jack. Luca. Whoever the hell you are. My name is Bella and I—”
Play his game, but never let him win.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Way to fucking blow it.
I slam my back into the wall and slide down until my ass hits the hardwood. I curl my legs in and start fake-crying into my knees.
Luca rushes to me and wraps me up in his arms.
“Shh,” he whispers into my hair. “It’s okay, Izzy. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t remember,” I sob.
His sleeve pulls back and I see the scar he’d never talk about.
A rush of memories flood my mind—Uncle Jack hoisting me up at Razorback games so I could see over the roaring crowd.
Him building my favorite pink dollhouse while I snuck stickers on his scar.
How he would always fly in to watch me dance.
Something shatters inside me, causing real tears to fill my eyes.
He catches one with a gross, callused finger. “I know.” He wraps me up in a firm hug. “Your Izzy memories are getting mixed in with your Bella ones and that’s not your fault, my love.”
He rises, helps me up, and gently steers me back to the table. “Let’s start back over okay? I’ve been trying so hard to get you to remember our past that I’m ruining our present.”
I nod.
“Let’s just finish our dinner and I’ll tell you about Ivan okay?”
“Okay,” I sniffle as I slowly sit back down.
“Like I said, Ivan Nowak was an alias. Just like Jack Donnelly.” He pours himself another glass. “And yes, you technically are the reason his brother is dead. But I don’t blame you for that.”
“Who is his brother?” I ask as I raise my glass to my lips. I have a feeling I will need to be hammered to get through this dinner charade.
“Jakub Krolek.”
I cough, choking and gagging on the bitter sip of wine. “Krolek.” I clear my throat. “Krolek is Ivan’s brother? How is that even possible? Ivan’s Russian and Krolek is—”
“Ivan’s not Russian, my love. Just a very good actor.”
I set my glass down. “So everything we had on Ivan?”
“Written by yours truly,” he says casually.
“Of course,” I laugh despite myself, brushing a loose strand behind my ear.
Luca stills. His smile softens as his eyes lock on my face.
“There you are,” he whispers.
A chill races down my spine.
I drop my hand immediately, the sudden movement making him blink like he’d only just remembered where he was.
He clears his throat. “Anyway…” He reaches for his wine. “We gave my cousin, Jan, a sad sap of a backstory to make him look like a good recruit for your little Project Dylan database and voilà! Ivan was born. Black Book number five, I believe. Or was Ivan the sixth?”
“Sixth,” I confirm, grabbing a piece of bread. “But, why?”
“Well,” he continues, leaning back. “At the time, I was still using Jack’s alias, trying to build some sort of case against Russo. You and your brother were safely tucked away in Miami.”
Safe? The fuck we were.
“Once you left for New York, I no longer had eyes on you.”
“Eyes?”
“The Luceros were clients of my cousin’s,” he admits. “Carlos would send us updates on you from time to time.”
My heartbeat races in my chest. That name sending a sick chill down my spine.
Did this fucker just admit that he got me put in Miami?!
Breathe, Bella. Do not snap again.
“You knew Carlos?” I ask, taking another sip.
“Never met him personally but I had dealings with him over the years,” he confirms.
“Did you know that he—” I start.
Stop. Don’t freak out. Let it go.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “Keep going.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t press the subject. “Like I said, I needed eyes on you once you left Miami. Insert Ivan.”
“You said you’re cousins, right?” I press.
He nods.
“But they’re Polish and you’re Italian.”
“Half-Italian,” he corrects. “My mother was from Poland.”
I push my lasagna aside, appetite officially gone. “I see.”
“You alright, my love?” he asks, reaching for my hand.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just trying to piece it all together is all.”
He smiles softly, like he’s proud of me for even attempting to understand this mess. “It’s a lot, I know. But just remember, everything I’ve done, everything that’s happened… it was all so we could be together again.”
This guy, I swear.
“Why take Zeke? Why the poems? Why not just take me when you saw me at Ditmas Park that day after we shot—”
Slow down, bitch.
I take a deep breath. “I just don’t get it.”
Luca’s smile is faint. “Because timing is everything, my love. I didn’t want to just take you. I wanted you to choose to come home to me.”
He reaches for his wine again, utterly unbothered by the insanity of the words flowing from his mouth. “Your brother was… how do I say this?” He stops himself. “Convenient. I knew he’d be useful for me.”
He smiles to himself. “And you used to smile every time you found one of my poems in your locker.”
“That wasn’t me,” I whisper.
“No…” he says softly. “It was.”
His gaze sharpens slightly.
“But when you got distracted by the brute and the painter, I realized I needed to be a little more direct with everything. I got jealous. Angry.” He gives one small shrug. “It happens.”
It happens?! Are you fucking serious, dude. Tormenting me, kidnapping my brother, threatening me, and killing both of my fathers and probably my aunt just happens?
He sighs, unconcerned. “Finish your dinner, my love. It’s getting cold.”
???
Luca didn’t give me much more after our talk about Ivan and his lovely year of poetry. Only more of his cryptic half-truths and rambling stories that sounded insane one minute and strangely convincing the next.
He avoided all conversations about my life as Bella. Only focused on his life with Izzy for what felt like hours.
That and their trip to Florence. In grossly, vivid detail.
I tried to stay calm. But that was about as useless as telling Lex to stay calm while I give Laing a lap-dance. I slipped a few times and had to cry my way out of it. Thankfully, the man wants me to remember Izzy so badly he’s willing to overlook everything else.
I run back to my room and nearly fall up the stairs in the process. When I get there, I rip open the drawer of the vanity and grab Aunt Claire’s letter and an eyeliner pencil. The paper crinkles as I flip it over and start writing.
IZZY CHEAT SHEET
Roses were her favorite flower.
She liked wine. Gross wine that is bitter as shit. CHOKE IT DOWN!
He took her to Florence after making the Revs.
Ivan is Krolek’s brother and Luca’s cousin.
Luca is allergic to peanuts… go find some!
He will fold if you cry so weaponize that shit!
Zeke was taken so he could gain more access to you, but then he started to fall for him? IDK… ask Zeke more about this one!
Apparently she really liked the Spice Girls.
Don’t forget to find Mama’s necklace!