Chapter 4 #2
Romeo's office is on the second floor, overlooking the garden. Through the window, I can see Giulia sitting on a bench, reading. She has no idea what just happened, that I nearly killed a man for talking about her body.
"Sit down," Romeo says, closing the door behind us.
I don't sit. I can't. There's too much energy coursing through me, too much violence still looking for an outlet.
"What the hell was that?" Romeo demands.
"He was disrespecting your sister."
"So you broke his nose?" Romeo moves to stand in front of me, forcing me to look at him instead of out the window. "You nearly crushed his windpipe, Luca."
“You would’ve done the same. They shouldn’t have—”
"No, they shouldn't have. And I’ll fucking deal with it, because I’m her brother, and it’s my job to deal with shit like that.
But that's not the point." Romeo's eyes are hard.
"The point is that you're out of control.
This isn't the first incident. You've been on edge for weeks, picking fights, drinking more, disappearing in the middle of meetings. What the fuck is going on with you?"
I could tell him. The words are right there, burning in my throat: I'm in love with Giulia. I'm losing my mind watching her with those men. I'm one bad day away from doing something that will get me killed or exiled or worse.
But I can't. Because Romeo is my best friend, my brother in everything but blood, and telling him would destroy everything between us.
"I'm handling it," I say instead.
"You're not handling shit." Romeo steps closer, his voice dropping. "Talk to me. Please. Whatever this is, we can figure it out. But you have to tell me what's going on."
The concern in his voice almost breaks me. Romeo has been there for me through everything. He's the closest thing to family I have left. And I'm lying to him.
"It's nothing," I force out. "Just stress. The Sicily deal, the shipments, everything with—"
"Don't." Romeo cuts me off. "Don't insult me by lying. I know you, Luca. I know when something's wrong. And this?" He gestures at me. "This is more than stress. This is something else."
I turn away, unable to meet his eyes.
"Is it about the family?" Romeo asks. "About your position here? Because if someone's threatening you—"
"No one's threatening me."
"Then what?" His frustration is palpable now. "Because I can't help you if you won't talk to me."
"There's nothing to help with. I'm fine."
Romeo pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter.
"You need to get whatever this is under control.
Before it becomes a real problem. I'm not just saying this as your friend.
I'm saying it as your boss. You're an enforcer, Luca.
You're supposed to be controlled, precise, reliable.
Right now, you're none of those things. You're a liability. "
That word is enough to clear some of the haze in my brain. A liability. That's what I've become. It’s not what I want to be—not what I’ve ever wanted to be, especially to Romeo.
"I need you to get your shit together," Romeo continues. "I don't care what you have to do. Take some time off. Get laid. Go to therapy. I don't give a fuck. But you need to handle this before it threatens your position in this family. Before it threatens our friendship. Do you understand?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"I mean it, Luca. You're my best friend. My brother. But if you become a danger to this family, to Giulia, to anyone—I'll have to make a choice. And you won't like that choice."
The threat is clear, and it's not empty. Romeo would do it. He'd choose the family over me, just like he should. Just like I'd do in his position.
"I understand," I manage.
"Good." Romeo's expression softens slightly. "Whatever's going on with you, I hope you figure it out. Because I don't want to lose you."
He leaves, and I'm alone in his office, staring out at the garden where Giulia is still sitting. I just lied to my best friend. Broke a man's nose. Got threatened with exile or worse. And all I can think about is how beautiful she looks in the afternoon light.
I leave the Ciresa house through a side entrance, avoiding everyone. I should go home and clean up, calm down, and figure out how to get myself under control like Romeo ordered.
Instead, I find myself taking the long way through the garden. I tell myself I'm just checking the perimeter, making sure everything's secure. But I know the truth. I'm looking for her.
I find her by the fountain, still reading. She's changed position, now sitting on the edge with her feet tucked under her, completely absorbed in whatever book she's holding. I should walk away—should leave before she notices me, before I do something stupid.
She looks up, and our eyes meet. For a second, neither of us moves. Then she closes her book and stands.
"Luca." Her voice is soft and uncertain. "I heard shouting earlier. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine." The lie comes automatically.
She takes a step closer, and I can smell her perfume. She smells like fresh lemons, and it makes my mouth water. She smells like fucking summertime. "Your hand is bleeding."
I look down. She's right—my knuckles are split, blood seeping through. I hadn't even noticed. "It's nothing."
"Let me—" She reaches for my hand, and I jerk back like she's burned me. The hurt that flashes across her face is like a knife to the gut.
"I'm fine," I say, harsher than I intended. "You should go inside."
"Luca, what's wrong?" She's closer now, and I take a step back automatically. God, I can’t let her touch me. If she were to so much as brush up against me, I couldn’t be responsible for what I’d do next. The image of me pulling her down into my lap as I sit on the edge of the fountain, watching the water’s mist dampen her cheeks and hair as I bounce her on my cock, fills my mind.
I grit my teeth against the onslaught of lust that follows.
My cock swells, hardening painfully. "You've been avoiding me for weeks.
Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me down. Did I do something wrong?"
Yes. You came home. You grew up. You became impossible to ignore.
"No," I say sharply. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why—"
"Giulia." I practically snarl her name. "You need to go inside."
"Why won't you talk to me?" There's frustration in her voice now, mixing with the hurt. "We used to be able to talk. Before I left for school, you used to—"
"That was different."
"How? How was it different?"
"It just was." I take a step back, putting distance between us. I'm hurting her. I can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders curve inward. And I hate myself for it. But it's better this way. Better that she thinks I don't care than that she knows the truth.
Better that she hates me than that she sees how completely I've fallen apart.
"Giulia—"
"No, you're right." She picks up her book, holding it against her chest like armor. "I should go. Wouldn't want to keep you from your work."
She walks past me, and I catch another hint of her perfume.
My hands clench into fists, my whole body going rigid with the effort of not reaching for her.
My cock throbs, my head swimming with dizzying need.
I’ve never felt this before. There’s never been a woman I wanted that I couldn’t have, never been a moment where I was horny and couldn’t find some way to take care of it.
I’ve never felt unsatisfied desire before, and it’s driving me insane.
I watch her go, disappearing into the house, and something inside me cracks a little more.
I go home and clean up, and then I text a friend, Rico Santoro, and ask him if he wants to grab a beer. He’s down for it, and by eight I’m at the bar with a craft beer that I’m steadily working my way through as he sits across from me, making small talk that I’m not really hearing.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened today, and then seeing Giulia after. The worry in her eyes. The smell of her perfume. The hurt on her face when I…
"You listening to me?" Rico asks, pulling me back to the present.
"Yeah. Sorry. Long week."
He studies me for a moment. "You look like shit, man," he says finally. "When's the last time you slept?"
“Last night,” I deadpan, and he eyes me.
"Bullshit." He signals the bartender for another round. "You look like you're about to snap. Like you're one bad day away from doing something you can't take back."
He's not wrong. I am one bad day away. Maybe less.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. I've seen men in your state before. It never ends well." He pauses, studying me. "When's the last time you got laid?"
Not since I saw the one I want in a green dress that made me want to take it off with my teeth. That’s not an answer I can give, though. I just wince, because the thought of touching another woman makes my skin crawl. It would feel like a betrayal, even though I have no right to feel that way.
Rico chuckles. "That's what I thought. Regular bar pussy getting boring?” He smirks. “I’ve got just the thing for that.” He leans in closer, lowering his voice. "I know a place. Very exclusive, very discreet. Might be exactly what you need."
I glare at him over my beer. "I'm not interested in a brothel."
"It's not a brothel. It's..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "It's a club. Private membership. Complete discretion guaranteed. The barrier to entry is high enough that you don't have to worry about anyone talking. The women aren’t paid; they have memberships, too. Women looking for privacy and men they can enjoy without it getting out that they’re sleeping around or that they’re into weird kinks or whatever. It’s a place for rich, beautiful people to have fun. "
He pulls out his phone and shows me a sleek black website with minimal information. I stare at the screen. "How exclusive are we talking?"
"Black card membership only. The vetting process is more intense than anything you've ever seen.
They run background checks that would make the FBI jealous.
They verify your income, your connections, your ability to keep your mouth shut.
The financial barrier alone keeps out ninety-nine percent of people. "
"And the other one percent?"
"People like us. Rich, well-connected guys who want to have fun with no strings attached and like beautiful women.” He pockets his phone. "It's expensive as hell. But if you can get in, it's worth it."
I should say no. I should tell him I'm fine, that I don't need this, that I can handle my shit on my own. But today proved that none of that is true. And if I don't do something soon, I'm going to do something I can't take back.
Rico grins. "I can put in a word for you if you want. Get you an introduction."
I think about Giulia and the wedding that's coming. I think about Romeo's warning. I think about the violent fantasies that won't stop, about the way I broke Carlo's nose and felt nothing but satisfaction. I feel like I'm drowning, and this might be the only lifeline I can see.
"Set it up," I hear myself say.
Rico grins. “Hell yeah, brother. You’re going to have the time of your fucking life.”
—
The vetting process is exactly as intense as Rico said.
My income, my connections, my associations—all of it is pored over.
But a week later, after I’ve signed the documents and paid an eye-watering fee, a black card arrives by courier that afternoon.
It’s sleek and heavy, with nothing but a phone number embossed on the back.
No name, no logo, nothing that could identify what it's for.
I hold it in my hand and stare at it for a long time.
This is insane. I've never needed something like this before. I've always been in control of my desires, always kept things simple and clean. Sex was just another physical need, easily satisfied and quickly forgotten.
But I'm desperate to get Giulia out of my system and feel something other than this constant want that's eating me alive from the inside out. I need to prove to myself that I can want someone else, that this obsession isn't permanent.
I tell myself I'll find someone who looks nothing like her. Someone blonde instead of dark-haired, thin and lanky instead of tall and curvy. Someone who will help me reset and remind me that there are other women in the world.
This is just about sex, getting a release I desperately need so that I can get my life back to something resembling normal.
And at the very least, I can pretend for a few hours, so I can fucking think straight again long enough to remind myself why imploding my life for a woman I can never have is the most insanely stupid thing I could do.
It’s the only real option I have left.