Chapter 22 Luca #2
The realization crashes over me in waves, each one more devastating than the last. I'm going to be responsible for this tiny person. I’m going to have to protect them, provide for them, teach them how to navigate a world that's brutal and unforgiving. And I'm going to have to do it with Giulia.
The woman I can't forgive and can't stop wanting. The woman who's carrying my child and looking at that monitor like it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
"Heartbeat is strong," Dr. Robinson says, oblivious to the emotional devastation happening inside me. Giulia is crying now, tears streaming down her face as she stares at the screen. Her hand reaches out—toward me, I think—but I can't move to take it, to offer her the comfort she's looking for.
If I touch her right now, I'm going to break.
"Everything looks great," Dr. Robinson continues, removing the wand and wiping the gel off Giulia's stomach.
"I'll print out some pictures for you to take home.
Keep doing what you're doing—prenatal vitamins, plenty of rest, small frequent meals if the nausea is still bothering you.
I'll see you back in four weeks for your next checkup. "
She leaves the room to print the ultrasound photos, and suddenly Giulia and I are alone with the echo of that heartbeat still ringing in my ears.
Giulia sits up slowly, pulling her dress back down and wiping at her eyes with shaking hands.
"Luca," she whispers. "Did you see—"
"I saw." My voice comes out rough and sharp. "Get dressed. We should go."
She flinches again, and I hate myself for it—hate that I can't give her what she needs right now. I hate that I'm too fucking broken to be the man she deserves.
But I can't change who I am or what she did.
And I can't change the fact that hearing that heartbeat just made everything infinitely more complicated.
—
The drive home starts in silence. I grip the steering wheel too tightly, my knuckles white, my jaw aching from how hard I'm clenching it. The ultrasound photos are in Giulia's purse, and I can feel their presence. We're ten minutes from the house when I hear myself ask, "Are you feeling okay?"
The words surprise me as much as they seem to surprise her. She turns to look at me, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"I'm fine," she says carefully. "A little tired, but fine."
"You need to eat more." I don't know why I'm saying this or why I can't seem to stop myself. "You're too thin. It's not good for the baby."
"I'm trying. The nausea makes it hard to keep things down."
"The ginger tea helps?"
"Yes." Her voice is soft. "Thank you for that. For leaving it every morning. I know you don't have to—"
"It's practical." I cut her off before she could make this into something it's not. "You need to stay healthy. That's all."
There’s another silence, but this one feels different—less hostile and more... fragile.
"Luca." She takes a breath, and I can hear the tremor in it. "Can we talk? Please?"
"About what?"
"About us. About what's happening between us. About—"
"There is no 'us,' Giulia." The words come out harsher than I intended, but I don't take them back. "There's you and me and a child we're going to have to raise together. That's it."
"That's not true." Her voice is stronger now, more insistent. "These past two weeks, the way you've been taking care of me, the way we've been—"
"Fucking?" I supply crudely, and she flinches. "That's all it is. Physical need. It doesn't mean anything."
"It means something to me."
"Then you're a fool."
The words hang in the air between us. I can feel her staring at me, can sense the hurt radiating off her in waves. But she doesn't back down.
"I know what I did was wrong," she says quietly. "I know I hurt you. I know I lied and manipulated the situation and took away your choice. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Luca. I would take it back if I could. I would do everything differently."
"But you can't." I keep my eyes on the road, refusing to look at her. "You can't take it back. You can't undo what you did. So your apologies don't mean shit."
"I love you." The words come out in a rush, desperate and raw.
"I've loved you since I was sixteen years old.
I've loved you through every year of watching you from a distance, every moment of knowing I could never have you.
That's why I did what I did. Not to trap you.
Not to manipulate you. But because I was desperate and scared and I wanted one chance—just one—to be with you before I lost you forever. "
My hands tighten on the wheel until I'm surprised it doesn't crack.
"And I know you loved Valentina," she continues, her voice breaking.
"I know you did. You told her—told me—that you were falling for her.
That she was different. That she made you feel things you'd never felt before.
And I'm the same person, Luca. I'm her. Everything you loved about her, everything you wanted with her—it was all me. It was always me."
"Stop." The word comes out like a gunshot.
"If you could love her then, maybe you can love me now. Maybe we can—"
"I said stop." I pull the car over to the side of the road, slamming it into park and turning to face her for the first time since we left the doctor's office.
"You want to know the truth? Fine. Here's the truth.
You were selfish. You wanted something, so you took it.
You didn't care about the consequences. Didn't care about what it would do to me when I found out.
You just took what you wanted and damn everything else. "
"Luca, please—I'm not asking you to pretend—"
"Yes, you are. You're asking me to forget what you did. To forgive you because you're sorry. To love you because you love me. But loving you would be the stupidest thing I could possibly do."
The silence that follows is absolute. I can see something breaking in her eyes, some last fragile hope shattering into pieces that can't be put back together.
She needs to understand, to accept that this marriage is never going to be what she wants it to be.
"I've already made enough mistakes where you're concerned," I say, my voice flat and emotionless now.
"I'm not going to compound them by pretending this is something it's not.
We're married because we have to be. We're going to raise this child together because we have to.
But that's all this is. Obligation. Duty. Nothing more."
"Luca—" Her voice breaks completely.
"I don't love you," I say firmly, and I can taste the poison in the lie. "I don't forgive you. And I never will. The sooner you accept that, the easier this is going to be for both of us."
I put the car back in drive and pull onto the road. We don't speak again for the rest of the drive home. When we arrive at the brownstone, Giulia gets out of the car without a word. She walks to the front door with her shoulders hunched, her movements mechanical, like she's operating on autopilot.
I watch her disappear inside, and I sit in the car for a long moment, my hands still gripping the steering wheel, my chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to regret.
I did what I had to do. I established boundaries and made sure she understands where we stand.
So why does it feel like I just destroyed something I can't get back?
I don't go inside. I can't face the house, or her, or the echo of my own cruelty. Instead, I drive to the office and throw myself back into work.
Romeo finds me two hours later, reviewing security footage from one of our clubs. "Thought you were taking the afternoon off for the doctor's appointment," he says, dropping into the chair across from my desk.
"Appointment's done."
"And?"
"Everything's fine. Baby's healthy. Heartbeat's strong." I say it all in a detached tone, like I’m reciting something off a chart. Romeo studies me with that look he gets when he knows I'm full of shit but isn't sure whether to call me on it.
"How's Giulia?"
"Fine."
"Luca—"
"She's fine, Romeo. Everything's fine. Can we focus on work now?"
He sighs but doesn't push. Instead, he pulls out his phone and swipes through something before turning it to show me. "We've got a problem."
The photo on the screen shows Alessandro Marchesi sitting at an outdoor café in Little Italy. He's alone, drinking espresso, and reading a newspaper like he doesn't have a care in the world.
"When was this taken?"
"This morning. And this one—" He swipes to another photo. Alessandro at a restaurant we own in Brooklyn. "—was yesterday. And this one—" Another swipe. Alessandro walking past one of our clubs in the city. "—was three days ago."
"He's making himself visible."
"Very visible. Not threatening, not making moves, just... there. Like he wants us to know he's watching."
I lean back in my chair, my mind already working through the implications. "He's testing us. Seeing how we'll react."
"I want to put him down." Romeo's voice is flat, matter-of-fact.
"He's still working to further the Marchesi plans. We know it. Dante knows it. Keeping him alive is a liability. He failed to get in through Giulia, and we failed to take them out at the wedding that didn’t happen, so now they’re trying to find another in. "
"What does Dante say?"
"That we wait. He thinks we can’t risk it until things are more stable.
" Romeo's jaw tightens. "But I don't like it.
Every day he's out there is another day he's gathering intelligence, making connections, planning whatever the fuck the Marchesi family is planning.
And in the meantime, he gets to walk around our territory like he owns it. "