Chapter 9 Giulia #2
Right now, I'm Valentina. And I belong to Luca.
He backs me toward the bed, his hands already working at the zipper of my dress. "I need you," he says against my mouth, and his voice sounds raw. "I need to be inside you. I need to know you're mine."
Another fissure runs through my cracking heart at that. “I’m yours,” I whisper, and I wish he could know how much I mean it. That it’s Giulia, not this woman called Valentina who doesn’t even exist, who is saying it… that I’ll always belong to him, even after I can’t see him any longer.
Our clothes come off faster than they ever have before, as if we both need to get each other naked, to see each other bare, feel our skin touching.
He picks me up and tosses me back onto the bed, making me gasp as he follows me down immediately, thrusting into me before I can even catch my breath.
He groans when he realizes that I’m already soaking wet for him.
"Say it again," he demands, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." The words come out breathless, desperate. "Only yours."
Something shifts in his expression. Something possessive and almost violent. “No one else,” he repeats. “You haven’t been with anyone else.”
He’s not asking me. It almost sounds like a challenge, a dare to tell him otherwise. I shake my head, trembling in his grip as he thrusts into me roughly. “No one,” I whisper, and that at least is the truth. I wish it always could be.
His grip on me, his thrusts into me, are relentless.
I cling to it, to the sensations, because they feel like they’re the only thing that’s real.
He drives into me again, his hips rocking as he tries to settle into me as deeply as he can, and I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders. He groans against my neck.
"Mine," he murmurs, and it sounds like a vow. "You're mine."
"Yes." I'm gasping, trembling, falling apart beneath him. "Yours. Always yours."
He fucks me like he's trying to prove something. Like he's trying to mark me so completely that no one else could ever touch me without seeing his claim. And I let him take everything I have to give and then some. I let him use my body to exorcise whatever demons are chasing him tonight.
Because I'm using him too. Using this—us—to forget about the life that's waiting for me outside these walls, the engagement announcement, the wedding planning.
When we're done, when we're both spent and breathing hard, he pulls me against his chest and holds me like I might disappear if he lets go. "Stay," he says, and there's something vulnerable in his voice that sounds almost like pleading. "Just for a little while."
I don’t have all the time in the world, but I want to stay.
I want to feel him against me, his sweaty skin sticking to mine, his hard, muscular body enveloping me.
Luca is mine for a little while, and I’m his, and even though this can’t last, I always want to remember it.
I close my eyes, my head against his chest, and pretend that this is my real life.
That I'm not Giulia Ciresa, the don's daughter who's being sold off to secure an alliance.
I'm just Valentina, a woman who belongs to herself and to the man who's holding her.
"When can I see you again?" he asks as I'm getting dressed.
"Friday.” I can't stay away. Can't give this up, even though I know I should… that eventually, I’ll have to. "Same time."
He nods, and I can see the relief in his eyes, like he was afraid I'd say no. Like he needs this as much as I do.
I kiss him one more time, and then I leave.
—
The next morning, I wake up in Liesl's guest room, and for a moment I can't remember where I am or which version of myself I'm supposed to be.
Then it comes back to me—the engagement announcement, Alessandro's kiss, and Luca's desperate claiming.
My life is splitting into two distinct realities that are becoming harder and harder to keep separate.
I get dressed and go home, and my father is waiting for me in his office.
"We need to start planning," he says without preamble. "The engagement party is in six weeks, and there's a great deal to be done."
And just like that, I'm thrust into the machinery of wedding planning.
There are meetings with event coordinators, florists, and caterers.
There are dress fittings and cake tastings and decisions about color schemes and seating arrangements.
It's exhausting and overwhelming, like being caught in a current that's pulling me toward something I don't want but can't escape.
And through it all, I smile and nod and make the appropriate responses. I'm enthusiastic about the dress options and thoughtful about the menu choices. I'm the perfect bride-to-be. And at night, I'm Valentina.
I go to the club as often as I can manage it over the next few weeks.
I let Luca take me apart and put me back together.
I let him claim me and possess me and make me forget, for a few hours, that I'm dying inside, and I pretend that this is real, that he knows it’s me, that he’s the one I’m going to get to be with forever.
I already loved him, and I know this is only making it worse, but I can’t stop.
The cognitive dissonance is exhausting.
During the day, I'm discussing flower arrangements, smiling at Alessandro across the dinner table, and pretending that I'm excited about the wedding.
At night, I'm in Luca's arms, gasping his name, promising him I'm his and only his.
During the day, I'm Giulia Ciresa, the dutiful daughter who does what's expected of her.
At night, I'm Valentina, and I belong to no one but myself and the man who doesn't know my real name.
The two realities are bleeding together, and I'm starting to lose track of which one is real.
I make mistakes.
At the club one night, I almost said something about my real life to Luca, making a joke about something that happened at home.
I catch myself at the last second and quickly deflect, but he looks at me strangely, and I can see the question in his eyes.
At dinner with Alessandro, I forgot details of a conversation we supposedly had the week before.
He mentions something about his sister's pregnancy, and I have no memory of him telling me about it.
I cover by saying I must have been distracted, but I can see the confusion in his expression.
I lose track of which version of myself I'm supposed to be.
I find myself responding to Alessandro with Valentina's directness, then having to backtrack and soften my words.
I catch myself being too formal with Luca, too careful, before I remember that Valentina is supposed to be free and uninhibited.
I'm running on fumes, and I know it can't last. But I don't know how to stop.
Every time I think about ending it, about walking away from Luca, I go to the club, and he touches me, and I forget why I was going to leave.
Every time I think about accepting my fate and embracing the life with Alessandro, letting go of this impossible dream, I see Luca at the mansion, and the wanting is so intense it takes my breath away.
I'm trapped between two worlds, and I'm slowly being torn apart.
The next week, I have a dress shopping appointment, and Liesl and Isabelle come with me.
The boutique is already one of those small, exclusive, expensive ones that serve champagne and treat you like royalty, and it’s been closed especially for my appointment.
My friends giggle and sip champagne and coo over the dresses, watching as I'm laced into a sample gown.
The dress is beautiful, made of ivory silk and delicate lace, fitted through the bodice and flowing into a full skirt. It’s a princess gown, the kind of dress every girl dreams about wearing on her wedding day. But I look at myself in the mirror, and I see a stranger.
She's beautiful, elegant, and refined, and exactly what a mafia bride should be. But her eyes are empty and hollow, like she's already dead inside.
"You look stunning," Isabelle says from where she’s sitting. "Alessandro is going to be speechless when he sees you."
“Thanks,” I manage, but it tastes like poison. The dress feels like it’s strangling me.
I go back to Liesl’s apartment with her that night, because I’m supposed to go to the club later.
The moment Luca sees me walk in, staring at the door when I step inside like he was waiting for me, he’s up and headed in my direction.
We’ve gotten faster and more direct lately, not bothering to pretend to ask about drinks or small talk.
We go upstairs, and he’s always on me now as soon as the door closes.
I’m the same, and I want it too… but I wonder why.
Is this about my—about Giulia’s upcoming wedding? Is he so upset about it?
If he is, why won’t he ever say anything to the real me?
Luca is rougher than usual tonight and more demanding. He pins my wrists above my head and fucks me like he's trying to prove something, and I let him use my body to work out whatever frustration is eating at him. Afterward, he holds me close, and I can feel his heart racing against my back.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he says quietly. "Even when I'm not here. Even when I'm supposed to be focused on other things. You're always there, in the back of my mind."
The confession makes my chest ache, because I can't stop thinking about him either. I can't stop wanting him, can't stop needing these stolen hours where I can be myself instead of the person everyone expects me to be.
And I wish he knew that the woman he’s saying that to, the woman he’s thinking about, is the same one he sees almost every day, who has been in love with him for years.
"I think about you too," I whisper.
He turns me in his arms so we're face to face, and even with the mask, I can feel the intensity of his gaze.