Chapter 9
Nine
Luca
Anger bubbles beneath the surface of my blood. Everything I’ve done—marrying Harper to protect her from my family—seems like a wasted effort.
I love her.
Would I marry her again?
Yes, but not out of protection.
My skin crawls with anxiety, knowing that she’s being brought into this family to work for my father, the man I’ve despised for years. I’ve come to understand who he is, but bringing Harper into it seems cruel, even for him.
I grind my teeth and open Dante’s office door without so much as a knock.
Harper is right on my heel.
Zeke is situated in the playroom. Paige and Mom are keeping an eye on him. Paige used to be a nanny, years ago. When she came to the house, she was hired to care for Nova.
I don’t know what my father intends to do with Zeke while we’re doing his dirty work.
He looks up from his desk. “Come in,” he says, as if he just invited us into his office, not the other way around.
Harper hasn’t been the same since the shooting. I’m not sure anyone else has noticed, but I see it in her eyes, in the worry and glancing over her shoulder, constantly on alert.
I hear it in her breathing when she’s dreaming, the soft gasps and shudders of terror that chase her through the night. I try to comfort her, but there’s only so much that I can do.
I hate feeling helpless.
“Have a seat.” He gestures to the two leather chairs in front of his desk. He stays seated in his chair situated behind the desk, fit for a king.
I let Harper sit while I shut the door and then take the seat next to her.
Harper is quiet, her shoulders tense. I can see the worry draining her features, the light dying from her eyes.
What she was forced to do must haunt her.
Reaching for her hand, I give it a squeeze, trying to offer her support. She’s not the only one who has pulled the trigger to protect our family.
Harper squeezes my hand before letting go. She clasps her hands together, leaning forward, glaring at my father.
“Seeing as how I now work for you, I want answers. Tell me everything.” Her eyes narrow and there’s a sudden chill from her that makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
“I want to know why that man was after my son. I want to know why you kidnapped that little boy Rylan Matthews and what happened to him. I deserve the truth, Father.”
He huffs under his breath at her use of the word father.
“Let’s get one thing straight. You report to me, Harper. I’m your boss. I tell you what I want you to know.”
Harper stands. “That’s not good enough.”
“Sit your ass back down in that chair!” Dante bellows.
My wife doesn’t so much as flinch at my father.
Silence follows and I stand, defending my wife. “She has a right to know all of it. She’s involved. She killed Santino after he broke in and tried to take our son!” I lean forward, gripping the edge of the table. “Answer her questions, or so help me—”
“You’ll what?” Dante offers a smug smile, one eyebrow cocked. “You can’t threaten to walk away. I own you both.” He stares straight from my soul into Harper’s.
Her eyes flinch and she huffs and collapses back into the leather chair. “Are you always this much of an asshole, or do you just get off on pissing off family?”
The wry smile grows on Dante’s lips as he leans back in his leather chair. “I’m glad you think of us as family. That should make all of this easier.”
I glance from my father to Harper, and I can’t help that my stomach is in knots, like a huge rock is sitting at the bottom and only more trouble is brewing for all of us.
“Tell me everything about the man I killed.” Harper doesn’t so much as flinch. The coldness she exudes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
The Harper I fell in love with was warm, bubbly, would do anything for her little boy.
I suppose that hasn’t changed, at least the part regarding Zeke, but the sunshine in her eyes has faded. She’s as black as night, without a star in the sky.
I expel a heavy breath. I want to reach out to her, but now isn’t the time to break through the walls she’s put up, the barrier she’s blockaded around her heart.
Dante stands and retrieves a file from the cabinet along the wall, opening and placing it on his desk.
“Santino DeLuca, the son of Massimo DeLuca. You know my wife, Nikki.”
Harper gives a faint nod. “Of course.”
“Nikki and Massimo were estranged siblings. Massimo had a son, Santino. That is the man who broke into your home whom you shot and killed.” Dante is matter-of-fact with his answers; there’s no smile or callousness in his tone.
I glance at the file briefly, taking in the details.
Name: Santino DeLuca.
Spouse: Livia DeLuca.
Children: None.
The file lists of Santino’s personal physical characteristics: height, weight, tattoos, scars and his date of birth. It’s nothing more than a profile that could easily be scouted off the internet. There’s nothing helpful within the file.
“He wanted my son.” Harper balls her hands into fists, irritation evident in her voice. Her shoulders rise and she inhales sharply. “I had a duty to protect my family. You had a duty to protect us!”
Dante steps around the desk toward us and perches himself at the edge, staring down at Harper. “I was not made aware that Santino had any interest in running his family’s business. Our man inside their organization either failed me or betrayed me. I’m not happy, but these things take time.”
I’ve never seen my father happy, but I do believe him. “What are we going to do about the DeLucas? Is the threat neutralized, or do we need to worry about them coming after Zeke?”
Dante rubs the back of his neck, quiet, contemplative.
“I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t know their endgame.
They used to dabble solely in trafficking of goods; they’ve upgraded to humans.
Women and children. I don’t like it. We put a stop to it, at least with what my intel has told me, it’s stopped.
But Santino coming after Zeke, something feels off. ”
Harper laughs darkly under her breath. “You don’t say?” Annoyance rings in her voice, and she stands, coming to face him, towering over him as he’s seated at the edge of his desk, his hands at either side of himself.
“My son was nearly killed,” Harper snarls at him and steps closer, invading every bit of personal space that existed.
“I’ve traumatized him. I shot the man holding him hostage, and now I have to see it over and over again.
Every night when I close my eyes, I see the blood.
I hear the gunshot. I smell the gunpowder.
Do you know what’s worse? Dreaming that I missed Santino, and I shot my son. ”
I’m practically holding my breath. Hearing the words breaks my heart. “None of it was your fault,” I whisper, staring at Harper.
She glares at me. “No shit. It’s his fucking fault.
” She throws a hand up at Dante, pointing at him.
“I can’t fix this. I can’t take away the nightmares that Zeke has every night.
Do you know he wakes up screaming? Do you know what that’s like?
Realizing that you’re the reason he’s having bad dreams? ”
Dante’s expression is grim. “I have some idea.”
“Doubtful.” Harper folds her arms across her chest, a defensive stance as she glances Dante up and down. “You sit behind a desk, ordering men to do your bidding, while you sleep peacefully at night. You’re a monster.”
Dante rises from the edge of the desk. “Do you think I’ve never pulled the trigger? I used to be second to Enzo. The men who work for me, they used to work for him.”
I don’t remember a single day when my father wasn’t Don, but it must have been before I was born.
Harper flinches. “So, you killed your boss?” She glances at me and smirks. “Husband, are you ready to take over the family business?”
I know she’s joking, but Dante isn’t amused. Sneering at her, he bares his teeth and steps around the desk. He grabs her by the throat, cutting off her air supply, lifting her feet several inches off the ground.
“Put my wife down!” I lunge at Dante, slamming my shoulder into his chest.
He lets go, dropping Harper as she falls back into the chair, eyes wide, gasping for breath.
Dante’s top lip twitches. “Don’t ever threaten me again, daughter.” He turns his head, scowling at me. Disappointment rains down on me. “You come at me again, Luca, you’ll live to regret it.”
“I already live to regret the fact that you had me.”
I’m not afraid of Dante.
He stalks to the other side of the desk, keeping space between us.
Good.
Then he can’t lay a finger on Harper. I reach out for her, my hand running up and down her arm, making sure she’s all right.
Her breathing has returned to a steady rhythm, but she’s heated and glowering at Dante. “Is this how you treat all your employees?”
“Just the mouthy ones.” Dante smirks as he sits back in his leather chair, pleased with himself.
What I wouldn’t give to wipe that atrocious grin from his face.
“Now, if you’re done acting like a toddler and throwing a temper tantrum, I’d like to get onto more pressing matters.” Dante rests his hands on the leather armrests on his chair, drumming his fingers with impatience. “Your son.”
That’s all it takes for Harper and me to remain still, finally giving Dante our full attention.
“What about my son?” Harper shoots him a scathing look.
The air is thick with anticipation as Dante’s words hang between us. The sound of his fingers tapping against the armrest echoes in the silence, a subtle reminder of his control over the conversation. His control over all of us.
My heart pounds, uncertain of what’s coming next, and I catch Harper’s eye—a fleeting glance that says we’re both bracing ourselves for whatever Dante has to say. His attention lands on me, a flicker of something unfamiliar crosses his features.
“Do you remember when Nova was younger?” Dante asks.
“We grew up together. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Do you recall when she was mute?”
Harper inhales sharply. “What are you saying?” She grips the armrest, leaning forward, worry tearing her up inside and out.
“Nova experienced a trauma, much like Zeke did, at a similar age.
She purses her lips together and sighs. “What are you suggesting?” Harper asks. “Do you think we should take him to a therapist? Because anything he says will be reported to the authorities.”
“We used to have a child psychologist on our payroll. I can give her a call, have her come here and work with Zeke on weekends.”
I rest my hand on Harper’s, and she glances at me out the corner of her eye before returning her undivided attention on my father. “Is that what helped Nova?”
My father sighs and rubs his forehead. “Paige actually helped Nova the most, but I do think a therapist working with Zeke could help with the night terrors.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” I say. The therapist idea had crossed my mind, but I’d been concerned it was too risky for all of us. Assuming the therapist is on Dante’s payroll, then perhaps it isn’t a danger at all. Only good can come of it.
“How did Paige help?” Harper asks, seeming hung up on the first part of what he’d mentioned.
“Paige was hired as Nova’s nanny. She spent a lot of time with her, showed Nova that she could trust her.”
“Zeke can trust me,” Harper says and glances toward the closed door.
Dante’s grim expression sullies my mood and is heavy on my stomach. “Zeke watched you shoot a man. I’m not sure you’re the right person for the job.”
“I’m his mother!” Harper stands and paces the small space of the office. She seems lost in her thoughts, her mind racing, but the words not coming out. She pauses at his cabinet where he keeps a lonely cactus and stares at it for a few seconds.
Silence permeates the space, and I refrain from saying anything to dampen the mood further.
Harper reaches for the pot the cactus is in, lifting it off the cabinet before glancing at me. She’s careful not to prick herself, but I’m unsure what she’s planning to do with the plant.
“Do you think Zeke is afraid of me?” she asks, her voice catching in her throat.
“No, he loves you. If anything, he clings to you more than he used to.” He’s been more needy since the killing, but that was never a surprise to me. Zeke is three. He witnessed a man being shot right in front of him. A man who intended to kidnap him and held a gun on his mother.
I’m not sure how much he comprehended of the situation but the blood, the man holding him when he arose from slumber, that has to stick with him.
Harper accidentally pricks the tip of her finger with the cactus and winces before putting the potted plant on Dante’s desk. “It needs sunlight to thrive.”
“And you, Harper. What do you need?” Dante asks, tilting his head, staring up at her, curious.
“I need you to guarantee that my son will be safe.”