Chapter 9
Nine
Harper
When Luca shows up to class, I can’t stop staring at him.
But it’s not in the typical way, where he catches my eye and my body heats up.
Okay, maybe it is, but it’s a different heat, the kind that burns with anger and concern, not lust.
“What the hell happened in practice?” I ask.
Luca is sporting a bruised chin and a split lip.
“Wasn’t practice.”
That’s the only answer I get because the professor begins his lecture and Luca pretends to pay attention in economics class.
That’s a first for him. He has a notebook out, and his hand is moving along the page.
Is he actually taking notes?
One glance at the paper, and I see he’s doodling, like his mind is wandering and he’s not even aware of what he’s drawing.
Or maybe he is aware, but it’s nothing specific. His pencil keeps gliding across the page, and I know he feels me staring at him because his shoulders tense.
Instead of him saying anything, he ignores me.
“Put your notebooks, laptops, everything away except a pen or pencil. We’re having a pop quiz,” the professor announces in the last twenty minutes of lecture.
Fuck me.
I didn’t get to study with Luca over the weekend. I had hoped that we’d get together Sunday evening, after he came home from his father’s and after hockey practice.
But when I texted him, he had told me he was too tired to hang out or study.
And with the dark circles under his eyes and the bruise on his cheek, I’m filled with worry.
If he didn’t get the bruises from practice, did it happen when he was at his parents’ house?
Was it the mafia that did this to him?
The teaching assistant for the class hands out our quizzes, row by row. I hand one to Luca, staring at him, wanting to ask about the mafia, his father, but I can’t, not here, not in class.
His eyes meet mine, and he forces a smile.
But I don’t smile back.
I can’t.
All I’m filled with is worry.
Concern for him.
Fear for my son.
I don’t even care what happens to me; it’s Zeke who’s my priority.
Would it be safer to disappear with Zeke? I know Luca was against it, because he believed his father could find us anywhere, but that can’t be true.
I’ll ask him about it after class, because I worry that whatever happened to Luca, like the split lip and bruised cheek, will happen to my son.
Maybe not today, when he’s two, but when he gets older.
“All eyes on your quiz. This isn’t a group effort,” the professor scolds, and I glance from Luca down to the paper in front of me.
I’m not confident in the answers that I put down; some of them are multiple choice, and even those options seem like two answers might fit. The essay portion, I’m probably screwed.
I glance up to hand in my assignment because we’ve been instructed that once we’re done, we can leave.
Luca has already finished. I didn’t notice him get up and walk down the aisle to turn in his quiz.
I drop mine off on the professor’s desk and sling my backpack over my shoulder, heading out of the lecture hall.
Luca leans against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.
“You waited for me,” I whisper, surprised he didn’t bolt out after, like I thought he had done.
“When don’t I walk you to your next class?” Luca asks, and he accompanies me outside.
I button my coat as we walk; the cold air whipping around us.
“Are you going to tell me how you got—” I gesture at my face, wanting to know about his bruises.
“Ashton.”
“What? How did that happen?”
Luca’s gaze is on the sidewalk, his head down, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ashton assaulted you. How can you not want to talk about it?”
He glances at me for a brief second and then his attention is back on the cement. “I threw the first punch.”
Fuck.
That was not what I was expecting to hear from him. “Okay,” I say slowly and shuffle my backpack from one shoulder to the other.
“Here, give me that,” Luca offers, taking my backpack with my books and laptop, carrying it for me across campus.
“Thanks.”
“I thought about skipping class today,” Luca says and then glances at me, “but I wanted to talk to you.”
“About the fight?” Not that he’s really explained any of it to me.
I still don’t know what Ashton and Luca were fighting about. Maybe I can ask Ashton if he shows up during lunch again. He has been making it a habit lately.
Is it because he has a thing for Kensley?
“Not about the fight. About something Dante said to me over the weekend.”
“Oh.” I exhale forcefully, and my breath hovers in the air.
“The wedding,” Luca says, and I stop walking.
The building is up ahead, and we have time since we finished the quiz early. “What’d your father say about our wedding?” My stomach is turbulent at the mention of our wedding, but I need to know what brought Luca all the way to class after clearly avoiding me last night.
“He wants us to marry in February.”
“This February?” My voice raises an octave. I hadn’t quite intended to sound so squeaky, but he caught me off guard with that comment.
“With school and your son, he’s willing to have Nikki plan the wedding for us and have it at their home.”
“Of course, he is. Where he has complete control of everything,” I mutter. “What’d you tell him?”
Luca stalls, staring at me. “Not really much. He’s intimidating as fuck!”
I huff and take a step back. “I know, he’s about to be my father-in-law.” That thought turns my stomach even more sour, like I just had bad milk.
“The bright side was he told me we could choose the date.”
Seriously?
“How generous of him,” I mock and turn on my heels, walking to my next class.
“You’re mad,” Luca says. It’s not a question, but clearly an observation, because I’m steaming right now.
“I’m not happy!” I shout, and Luca strides right alongside me. Even as I pick up pace, with ease, he’s at my side.
“Are you mad at me—or Dante?” Luca asks.
His question is fair.
Luca is a part of this as much as I am, if not more so because he was doing the good deed in trying to save my life. I’ll never be able to repay him for that, but maybe I can offer him a way out.
“I’m—frustrated!” I glare at him. “I know this isn’t your fault. I blame your father, but I still, I wish you could just tell him to go fuck off and leave us alone.”
“He’s mafia, babe,” Luca says with a faint smile. “If I could say that to him, then I’d be running the empire.”
No one talks back to Dante Ricci.
I slow my pace as we approach the Fitzroy building for my next class. He hands over my backpack, carefully putting it over my shoulder, his hands gentle yet firm.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” Luca says.
I nod slowly. “I know. None of this is what we want.” I step closer, stand on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Tell your mom I’ll do whatever she wants for the wedding. I’ll meet up with her if she wants to go dress shopping, just, whatever. Let’s not get on your family’s bad side.”
Luca’s eyes tighten. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t ask me again, because my answer might not be yes.”
Kensley and I head to the arena, excitement bubbling within me at seeing Luca play tonight.
“I feel like we don’t hang out enough,” Kensley admits on our walk to the arena.
“I’m sorry,” I immediately apologize, knowing that it’s my fault entirely. I’ve been spending more time with Luca, and I know with the wedding planning on the horizon, we’ll be spending even less time together.
Not to mention after Zeke comes to live with us.
Everything is going to change.
“No, don’t apologize. I just feel like I’m missing some very big pieces to the puzzle.” Kensley stops walking and stares at me.
It’s just the two of us, but I glance around, making sure no one is nearby watching us or eavesdropping.
I’ve gotten into the habit of double-checking my surroundings constantly.
“See! You seem so paranoid lately. Do you have a stalker?” Kensley asks.
I laugh, and I see relief flood her features. “No.”
“What’s going on? I get why you didn’t mention Zeke when we first met.
We were just becoming friends, he wasn’t on campus.
You probably wanted a normal college experience or whatever—” Kensley says and waves her hand.
“But the engagement to Luca, I’ve been holding my tongue, but I can’t just keep quiet anymore. ”
“You don’t approve?” I ask, expecting her to say yes.
“I think you’re hiding something. I mean, you were denying you even had feelings for him at the beginning of the semester, and then next thing I know, you two are engaged, but there’s no ring.
Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, and no judgment if you love him, but I don’t know. Something feels off.”
Kensley is more than just a little suspicious, and I can’t blame her.
“You can trust me,” Kensley says. “I promise, whatever you say will be kept in confidence.”
I exhale sharply and glance around once more.
There are a few people coming in our direction and I pull her off the sidewalk, waiting until they pass.
“You can’t tell anyone, not Luca, and not even Ashton.”
Kensley smirks. “Do you think I see Ashton without you? I promise I won’t say anything, now spill it, girl.”
“Luca is marrying me to protect me,” I whisper. “His family is mafia, and I wandered into something I shouldn’t have.” I leave out the specifics because I don’t want Kensley to know more than she already does.
Telling her puts her life in danger, which is selfish of me, but I need her help.
“His father ordered my death.”
“Holy shit. Are you serious?” Kensley gasps and then covers her mouth with her hand.
“Luca proposed a different solution, that we marry, which makes me part of their family. He saves my life, and in return, I’m his wife.”
“What does he get out of it?” Kensley asks and then looks me over. “Never mind.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I chock.
“Oh, come on, you’re cute. He’s had his eyes on you for how long? You can’t be oblivious to his crush. Now, he gets you.”
“Forever,” I remind her.
“There’s always divorce—unless they kill their ex-wives?”