17. Lucia
17
LUCIA
T he first rays of morning light creep through the windows, signaling the start of a new day. But instead of feeling refreshed, I am greeted with the unwelcome realization that Saverio is lying next to me in bed.
Slowly, I extricate myself from his embrace and tiptoe out of the room, careful not to wake him. In the quiet sanctuary of the downstairs bathroom, I bury my face into a fluffy towel and unleash a silent scream of frustration. Why does this keep happening?
Eight years ago, I gave myself to Saverio Castiglione in the backseat of his sleek black car. It wasn’t the romantic, candlelit hotel room with rose petals scattered on the bed that I’d always imagined, but it was my first time, and it was perfect for me. The leather seats were cool against my skin as we tangled together, his musky cologne and the new car smell filling my senses. The moonlight filtering through the windows casting shadows on our flushed and entwined bodies. Even though it wasn’t the ideal setting, it was still a night I have never forgotten.
But I can trace all of my problems back to that night. If I’d only pretended not to notice my boyfriend making eye contact with Fiona on the dance floor, we wouldn’t have gotten into a fight, and I wouldn’t have been forced to call Saverio to pick me up.
Every event that has unfolded since that fateful night is a grim reflection of the poor choices I made. I’m a grown woman, and I can acknowledge my mistakes in succumbing to the charms of a man eleven years my senior. But I repeated those mistakes over and over again.
After long college days, I would text Saverio and ask if I could come over. And every time I drank with my sorority friends, I’d call him in the middle of the night and beg him to come touch me. I am the Queen of Fuck-Ups when it comes to him. And despite all the warnings and consequences, I never seem to learn from my mistakes. I continue down this destructive path with him every time, as if I am addicted to the chaos and can’t resist its pull on me.
I pull my face from the towel and look in the mirror. My hair is a mess that needs taming. I run my fingers through the dark locks, snagging on knots and smoothing out frizz until it resembles something satisfactory. My lips look swollen. I chalk that up to too many hours spent kissing last night. Every time I rolled over, Saverio was right there with his cock pressed against me, and I gave in to my base desires. A thousand kisses later, my lips have ‘fuck me’ written all over them. My body aches in places where Saverio stretched me out. There are knots in my shoulders from him hoisting my arms above my head while he fucked me at three a.m. It was hard and rough, the kind of fuck that comes with ownership. Saverio claimed my orgasm and my body, and now my sore limbs are payment for his possession.
Brooklyn would tell me to go back upstairs and have sex with him again. I can practically hear her whispering in my ear now. ‘Fuck the soul from his body, Lucia, then tell him to make you waffles.’
Funny enough, Saverio would jump at the chance. He’d probably cream his pants if I told him I wanted a little domestic tranquility. I don’t know if he can make waffles, but if not, he’d find the best in town and have them delivered within the hour. He’s resourceful like that, and he’d do anything to make me happy.
But I can’t settle for domestic bliss with a man like Saverio. We thought about it and considered it half a dozen times when we were younger, but something always came up.
I remember it clearly, as if it were yesterday. I was twenty years old, young, and carefree. He came as my date to a sorority party and laughed with me in the corner as we whispered about all the douchey college boys.
But it wasn’t until later that night, when he took me to a quiet hill overlooking Manhattan, that I truly felt connected to him. The stars twinkled above us as we lay on the grass, talking and laughing until the early hours of the morning. “I’ll love you until the last star falls from the sky,” he waxed poetically. He was thirty-one, falling hard and fast for a college girl who’d never been with anyone else. And I was head over heels for a man who was already engaged. I found out that night when he swore he wouldn’t marry her,]; when he said I was the only one he wanted to be with. “It was a business arrangement, Dandelion. I swear. She’s never meant anything to me.”
I walked home in my revealing sorority dress and three-inch heels at 2:00 a.m. I trekked all the way down Manhattan Hill, through the surrounding neighborhood, and two miles away to the sorority house with Saverio driving behind me at three miles per hour. Every once in a while, he’d tell me to get in the car, but I couldn’t stop crying. I was twenty, and the man I loved was going to marry someone else. I couldn’t get in the car, not without losing my nerve.
The topic of marriage resurfaced sixteen months later, like a long-forgotten memory that had suddenly been recalled. I had just graduated from Blackmore University with my bachelor’s degree in elementary education, and I was ready to embark on my journey as a teacher.
Saverio joined us for dinner that night, his presence causing whispers and gossip among my family members. Even my twin brother couldn’t hide his admiration for Saverio. But amidst all the adoration and joy, there was one person who didn’t seem pleased—Dante, my older brother. His disapproving gaze lingered over Saverio, casting a shadow over our otherwise happy gathering.
Somewhere between dinner and dessert, the two of them got into a fight. Dante’s accusations cut through the festive atmosphere, accusing Saverio of manipulating me. Saverio bristled at the insinuation and warned my brother to choose his words carefully. But tempers flared, and fists flew as their argument escalated into a physical altercation. One thing led to another, and Dante threw the first punch. The wait staff at the restaurant called the police, and the two were hauled off in handcuffs. As they were taken to the station, Dante’s threats could be heard echoing through the streets, his voice dripping with malice as he promised to kill Saverio if he ever touched me again.
Despite the danger and violence, our forbidden relationship only grew stronger, fueled by the excitement and allure of living on the edge.
The memory of the last time Saverio and I talked about our future together floods back to me. It was a cool autumn evening, with a gentle breeze blowing through the open windows. Dante and Adalina were hosting a family dinner to introduce her to everyone. But I couldn’t join them that night because I was at home with Saverio. He had whisked me away on a shopping spree in Kansas City that afternoon, cooked a delectable meal for us later that evening, and then spent hours easing every knot and ache from my tired body with his expert fingers.
The words tumbled out of his mouth, raw and unfiltered. “I want to marry you, Lucia. Not for show or convenience but because I love you with all my heart. There are no other women. And I don’t care what your brothers think about me. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I gave in, too. I told him yes. The rest of the evening was a blur of fervent lovemaking and whispered promises for our future together. But as the night wore on, Saverio’s phone rang, and he was called away for business. I could see the reluctance in his eyes as he left, but duty called. By morning, our engagement was over—like a beautiful dream turned sour in the light of day.
Saverio finally made it home hours later than expected. As he stumbled inside, I could see he was covered in blood, and his clothes were torn and disheveled. Without hesitation, he pulled a bullet out of his arm and instructed me on how to stitch it up.
It was the first time I was faced with the harsh reality of Saverio’s dangerous lifestyle, the constant threat of violence and injury that he faced every day. My hands shook as I carefully stitched up his wound, trying not to imagine the pain he must be feeling. To me, it felt like something out of a crime drama, but for Saverio, it was just another day at work.
A few hours after he’d fallen asleep in my bed, I got a call from Dante. He apologized profusely, and it took several minutes for him to explain what he was apologizing for. Then he admitted that Saverio had forced an arranged marriage between him and me.
Saverio had gone behind Dante’s back and spoken to Father; they’d even drawn up a contract declaring me as Saverio’s property. My fate was signed and sealed without my knowledge or consent.
Even though I had loved Saverio for as long as I could remember, I couldn’t reconcile myself with his underhandedness. I felt like a pawn in his twisted game of power and control; I felt like I was trapped in a life that wasn’t mine to live. Saverio deliberately exploited my relationship with him to get me to agree to marry him when he knew all along that I’d have to anyway. And if that wasn’t enough, he brought his business into my home. He knew I never wanted to be involved in that lifestyle, and he forced it on me anyway.
A life with Saverio would be carefree, a dream come true that had been building since I was eighteen. The two of us could find happiness together because we had already proven it countless times over the years.
But I can’t trust Saverio. And every time we find our way back to one another, he reminds me why. I love him and will probably love him until I die, but if I can’t trust him, I can’t marry him.
“Lucia?” I hear the soft thud of his footsteps on the creaky stairs, gradually getting closer and closer to the hall bathroom where I’m hiding.
“Right here,” I announce, stepping out. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
He closes the distance between us and kisses me deep, stirring passion in my belly the way he always has. “I’m going to make breakfast. What do you want?”
We could be happy… we could have a happily ever after… if only I could trust him.