Chapter 9 #2
I should have grabbed a pillow and blanket, at least I could have slept on the floor.
The house is eerily quiet.
There are no strange sounds, no child whimpering like the first time I’d spent the night months ago.
My body relaxes, and I begin to drift into an unpleasant sleep. My neck throbs even in slumber, and my dreams are of being chased through the forest, carrying Zeke, running for our lives.
I’m startled awake, strong arms beneath me, carrying me as I’m gasping for breath.
My eyes flash open, and Luca’s staring back at me.
“Go back to sleep.” His voice is rough, just above a whisper as he has me swooped into his arms, carrying me toward the door.
“What about Zeke?” My voice catches as I glance back at my son, sound asleep in his bed.
Luca carries me out into the hallway and then into his bedroom.
“He’s asleep. Zeke will be fine.” Luca places me gently on the mattress, and I scoot under the covers.
“I’ll be right back.” Luca heads out of the bedroom, and there’s a soft click of the door down the hall.
My clothes are in Zeke’s bedroom on the dresser. So much for changing for bed. Beneath the covers, I slip out of my jeans and toss them to the floor.
Luca steps back into the darkened bedroom and quietly closes the door.
I’m surprised he came to get me, that he even cared enough to check on where I was during the night.
I lay on my side, curled up, facing Luca as he climbs into bed beside me.
“I’m worried about Zeke,” I whisper.
“Why?” he asks. He shuffles onto his side, facing me. “He’s asleep.”
“Did you forget about that little boy, the one your father was holding in the basement?”
Luca winces and frowns, his brow twitching. “Zeke will be fine. You have my word.”
“And what if he awakens and goes looking for me?” I don’t like worrying that my son might wander through the house alone.
But that’s not my only fear.
Any one of Dante’s men, or the mafia boss himself, could go into Zeke’s room and hurt him.
The dread fills my lungs like poison, making it impossible to breathe.
I struggle to catch my breath, gasping as though I’m drowning and in desperate need of air.
Luca’s hand grazes my arm and then rests firmly against bare skin. His touch is simple yet effective, helping me breathe, but his words cut much deeper.
“You’re panicking over nothing. Our marriage will keep you and him safe.”
I scoot closer, wanting to hold him, embrace him, feel something other than emptiness and fear that are filling the void between us.
“Stick to your side.” His brow pinches and he rolls onto his back, determined to keep distance between us. There’s frustration in his words, in his face, as he pulls away from me, and I feel chilled.
Any sense of comfort is quickly erased.
“Go to sleep, Harper. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. We don’t want to disappoint Dante.”
I’ve already disappointed his parents. I doubt they will ever like me, but I suppose if they accept me and don’t cause harm to Zeke, myself, or my loved ones, I can live with that. I don’t want to be here, but it’s not like I have much of a choice. When the Riccis give an order, you obey.
Saturday morning, I’m shuffled upstairs with Nikki.
Zeke is secured to my hip, although he squirms and wants to be set down.
I ignore his little protests and tickle him, trying to change his mood.
It doesn’t help. He makes me think of how perhaps a little Luca may have once behaved, not getting his way and fussing the entire time.
“Do you want me to hold him?” Nikki holds out her hands, offering to take Zeke from me.
Zeke’s eyes widen, and he willingly throws himself at her while I’m struggling to hold on to him.
Whether I want it or not, Zeke has already made up his mind. Nikki will hold him.
“Thanks.” I hand him over, and then he plays the same wiggle and squirm game with her.
Eventually, she sets his feet down onto the floor.
The door to the suite is closed, so Zeke isn’t going anywhere without either one of us noticing first.
I grab the wedding dress, remove my clothes and slip into the gown.
It feels strange, putting the dress on now that Luca and I are already married.
I suppose I never do anything typical. I had Zeke long before I got married.
“Let me get the zipper.” Nikki walks over, and I reach for my long hair, pulling it up and twirling it into a bun, holding it up with my hands.
She slides the zipper up the dress, smiling as I spin around slowly to face her. I drop my hair, letting the waves cascade down my back.
“It looks amazing on you. The pictures are going to come out so great today! I can’t wait for us to share them with everyone.”
I knew the wedding photographs were less about the actual pictures and more about proving our marriage. I’m just not sure who we’re proving it to, the mafia family or someone else?
“I’ll have Paige come in and help with your hair.” Nikki heads for the door. “She does a great job with updos. Unless you’d prefer to keep it down for pictures?” Her hand rests on the doorknob, and Zeke is right at her heels, ready to tear out of the room the moment she opens the door.
Nikki lifts Zeke into her arms, taking him with her out into the hallway.
Quietly, I follow, watching as she wanders through the maze of rooms on the third floor and knocks on a closed bedroom door.
A moment later, Paige pokes her head out, rubbing at her eyes.
“Did I wake you?”
“It’s fine.” Paige waves her hand dismissively. She pulls the robe tighter around herself. “What do you need?”
Thirty-five minutes later, my hair and makeup are completed, and I’m getting my Cinderella-esque moment when Luca comes to the door of the room where I’ve been dressing, carrying a pair of dainty heels.
“You look good.” I can’t take my gaze off Luca, except to mentally undress him.
Standing there, he’s holding the silver heels by the straps. “I brought you shoes.” He doesn’t even acknowledge my compliment or make any mention of how I’m shaping up with the wedding gown.
However, his throat bobs when he swallows, and his jaw tightens like he’s grinding his teeth together for sport.
“You didn’t have to.” I take the heels from his hands and move to sit at the edge of the mattress.
“I did. Dante insisted I bring them up to you.” There’s no smile on his face. No sign of happiness in his demeanor, and I can’t help but hate that I’m the reason he’s miserable.
“Thanks.” I put the shoes on and then carefully stand, making sure I don’t face-plant.
“The photographer is already downstairs.” Luca stays by the open door. He doesn’t step foot inside the room, but he also isn’t walking away. He seems transfixed, staring at me, but he doesn’t seem happy.
“I’m ready.” I head toward him, and Nikki is right behind me, holding the train of my wedding gown.
Luca steps out of the way, grabs Zeke as my little terror runs out of the room, and he carries him down the stairs with us.
I’m careful on the stairs, holding the banister as I descend the main staircase, although my attention is on Zeke and Luca several steps ahead of me.
By the time we’re in with the photographer, Nikki and Paige help with Zeke while the two of us are shuffled from one pose into another.
Most aren’t too terrible. We both manage to force a smile. The most awkward is when we’re instructed to stare into each other’s gaze.
Luca is shooting daggers at me. There’s no loving gaze, no warm embrace.
Everything with Luca is frosty and chilled to the bone.
The photographer grumbles after reviewing the images on his digital camera. “These aren’t working for me. We’ll need to take more.”
“Seriously?” Luca’s frustration is exactly how I’m beginning to feel.
“Your wife is perfect. Absolutely flawless. That pure smile and those magnificent eyes. She is like heaven on a canvas. You, on the other hand—” The photographer sighs and adjusts his camera settings, avoiding finishing his own sentence.
Luca growls as he steps toward the gentleman, his eyes tightening and his fists clenching at his side. “Do you make it a habit of hitting on every woman you photograph or just my wife?”
My mouth goes dry. I glance from the photographer to Luca, and they’re head-to-head, about ready to fight. The photographer is scrawny and no match for my husband.
Nevertheless, Luca’s words shock me.
The fact he’s behaving quite so protectively is startling. I can’t help but stare at Luca, breathless.
He must be acting.
Because when the photographer said truly nice things, I would have expected him to shut him up and comment on how he doesn’t know me like Luca does.
I step forward, resting a hand on Luca’s arm, desperate to break the tension before something else breaks. “Sweetheart, why don’t we take a five-minute break?”
Luca glares at the photographer. “Are we paying you by the hour?”
“Yes, your father is.” He glances at his watch, eyeing the time but not hurrying in the slightest.
“Then we are most certainly not taking a break and giving this jackass another cent.” Luca is fuming, and I grab his hand, pulling him closer, trying to calm him down.
Although I’m likely the worst person to settle him down since I have the uncanny ability to cause him to argue, to fight, to hate me.
When I touch his hand, my own body relaxes, his energy warm and comforting, and I step closer, cutting the distance between us.
Instinctively, he leans in toward me when I come to rest my forehead against his.
I hear the snap of another photo but ignore the photographer. I reach up, my hands grazing Luca’s cheeks, trying to soften his features, the anger that is built into the tension in his neck and shoulders.
My neck is still sore from last night, falling asleep against the wall in Zeke’s room, but I ignore the pain.
What I can’t ignore is the strained look on Luca’s face.
I crack a wry grin and drag my hands down to his hips. “Kiss me,” I whisper, hoping that maybe I can get the tension to melt away for both of us.
“What?” Luca stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.