Chapter 7
I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers idly tracing the duvet. The espresso I had made earlier had gone cold, abandoned on the nightstand. I hadn't taken more than a sip.
My thoughts circled back to the same thing over and over again. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to this. Leaving behind college. My studies. My friends. The future I had imagined for myself.
For what?
To be the perfect wife?
I scoffed under my breath. It might have been bearable if Luca had even been willing to play his part. If he had shown the slightest effort but he hadn't.
I mean it hadn't been even twenty-four hours to our wedding and he was already talking about fucking other women.
Luca had made it clear without needing to say it. He didn't want this marriage, didn't want me.
After I retreated to the bedroom earlier, he had left me alone in the penthouse. He came into the room once, just long enough to change his clothes. Not a word. Not even a glance in my direction.
I should have expected that. I should have been prepared for it.
But it still hurt.
I leaned back against the headboard, my fingers tightening around the duvet. I had known this wouldn't be a marriage in the conventional sense but some foolish part of me had thought he would at least acknowledge me. That he would what? Try?
I laughed bitterly at the thought.
My gaze drifted to the nightstand where my phone lay facedown beside the cold espresso.
For a moment, I just stared at it. A part of me wanted to reach for it. Dial home. Hear my mother's voice. Something familiar. Something safe.
But what would I even say?
That I already felt like a stranger in my own life? That I didn't know how to exist in this marriage if I could even call it that? That my husband barely acknowledged my presence and I wasn't sure how much longer I could pretend that it didn't bother me?
I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers to my temple. No.
The hours passed in a blur of restless thoughts and silence. I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling then at my phone then back at the ceiling. The weight in my chest didn't lessen but there was nothing I could do about it.
By the time the evening light filtered through the curtains, a dull ache settled in my stomach, a reminder that I hadn't eaten since last night.
I sighed pushing myself up. I couldn't just sit in this room forever, no matter how tempting it was.
Slowly, I stepped out into the hallway, bracing myself for the possibility of running into him. But the penthouse was just as quiet as before.
Except.....
I stopped in my tracks. This definitely hadn't been here in the morning.
The once empty kitchen island was now full of grocery bags and neatly arranged ingredients. Vegetables, fresh meat, pasta, olive oil, enough to cook a proper meal, maybe even several.
I blinked, taken aback.
Had Luca done this?
No. That didn't seem right. He said he never stayed here. And he didn't seem like the type to shop for groceries.
One of his men, then? Maybe a housekeeper?
I took a slow step forward, brushing my fingers over one of the bags. A strange feeling crept in.
No.
I wasn't naive enough to think this meant anything. It was probably just a matter of convenience.
I could take this as a small act of courtesy. Or I could see it as a practical arrangement. A wife needed food, after all.
Rolling up my sleeves, I surveyed the ingredients. Pasta seemed like the easiest choice. I pulled out a pack along with some tomatoes, garlic and basil. There was even a wedge of parmesan tucked in one of the bags.
At least whoever stocked the kitchen knew what they were doing.
????
The warehouse smelled of damp concrete and blood. A familiar scent. One I had grown up around. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made men sweat and hesitate before they spoke.
Sergei Petrov sat slumped on a rusted chair in the middle of the room, his arms bound behind his back. His lip was split, blood dripping onto the floor. He had been laughing earlier. He wasn't laughing now.
I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt. "You were saying, Petrov? Something about how you thought you could move shipments through my ports without my permission?"
Sergei spat blood onto the ground. "It was just business Moretti. You understand that, don't you?"
"Business?" I let out a dry chuckle. "You think you can run shit through my territory without cutting me in and call it business?"
He flinched as I stepped closer. "It was a mistake."
"It was a choice." My voice was cold. "And choices have consequences." One swift punch to Sergei's ribs sent him coughing, gasping for air.
I gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze.
"Here is what is going to happen. You are going to pay double for what you owe.
And you are going to deliver a message to your boss.
" My grip tightened. "Tell him I'm feeling generous today but the next time one of his men so much as breathes near my docks without my permission, I won't be so forgiving. Understood?"
Sergei gave a weak nod, his breathing ragged.
I let go of him. "Good. Now get him out of my sight." Two of my men stepped forward, dragging him away.
Business handled. I walked out of the warehouse stepping into the cool night air. I shrugged on a clean shirt before sliding into my car and heading toward the estate. Unlike the penthouse, this was home.
The estate had always been home. It made sense to stay.
Cancio preferred to stay here because it was easier to handle business with our father under the same roof as he handled most of the operations now. He saw no reason to change that.
Fabio? He was here because he was the youngest and our mother wouldn't let him leave, not yet. She still treated him like the reckless kid he had always been even though he was more than capable of handling himself now.
And me?
I had lived there too. Until now.
After the marriage, I had decided to move to the penthouse. Not because I preferred it. Hell, I barely stayed there. But because I didn't want Alessa here.
I didn't want Alessa in my home. Didn't want her pretending to be a part of my family. Didn't want her anywhere near the life I had built there.
So, I had done the only thing that made sense. I kept her separate.
I pulled up to the front handing my keys off to one of the men before heading inside.
The smell of roasted lamb and fresh bread filled the air as I stepped into the dining room.
My mother looked up immediately, a warm smile tugging at her lips. But then her gaze flickered behind me. Expecting. Waiting.
Her smile faltered. "Where is Alessa?"
"At the penthouse" I said simply, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
She exhaled, shaking her head. "She should be here."
I didn't answer, swirling the wine in my glass before taking a slow sip.
"She is your wife, Luca." She said.
I let out a dry chuckle. "So I have been told."
Fabio who was lounging back in his seat smirked. "Damn, Luca. Didn't take you for the type to lock your wife away in a tower."
"She is not locked away."
"She is alone" my mother interjected, her tone firmer now. "You haven't even been married for a full day and you have already left her alone."
A sharp, familiar irritation flared in my chest. "She knows what this marriage is. You do too."
"So do you" my father said, his deep voice cutting through the conversation. "And I don't want the Rossi's complaining because you can't take care of their daughter."
My mother intervened before I could say something. "You should bring her here tomorrow."
I sighed leaning back. "She is fine on her own."
"I am sure she is." She met my gaze. "But she is your wife now. I had like to get to know her."
Fabio was still grinning, he propped his elbow on the table. "Yeah, bring her Luca. I want to know my favorite sister in law too."
Sara rolled her eyes. "You are the reason women don't trust men, you know that?"
"Please." Fabio smirked. "I'm the reason women love men."
Cancio gave him a flat look. "You are an idiot."
Leo clapped his hands excitedly like he agreed. He always does this whenever he heard a bad word.
I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face. "I don't know if she will want to come."
"Well," my mother said, "ask her anyway."
???????
After dinner, I left the estate heading back to the penthouse. It was quiet when I stepped inside. I tossed my keys onto the table and made my way to the kitchen.
My gaze flicked to the kitchen island, now stocked with the groceries I had ordered one of the staff to bring.
I pulled open the fridge. Leftovers.
So, she had eaten. Good.
Not that I expected her to starve herself out of spite but part of me had wondered if she had let her stubbornness get in the way.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a long sip before making my way to the bedroom.
The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow. My eyes landed on her almost instantly.
Alessa was curled up at the far end of the bed, her dark hair splayed over the pillow, her breathing slow and even.
I had thought to sleep in the spare bedroom again but I wasn't about to deal with that stiff ass mattress a second time.
This was my room. My bed. She was just in it.
I changed quickly, stripping down to just my boxers before slipping under the covers. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight but she didn't stir. She barely even moved.
I laid on my back staring at the ceiling. But my gaze drifted back to her. The bed was massive, more than enough space between us yet she was hovering dangerously close to the edge. One wrong turn and she had be on the damn floor.
Jesus.
Does she always sleep like this? Does this woman want to fall?
Without thinking, I reached out and adjusted her, pulling her slightly toward the center of the bed. Just enough so she wouldn't tip over in the middle of the night.
She murmured something under her breath but didn't wake.
I let out a quiet breath settling back against the pillows. I stared at the ceiling, exhaustion weighing heavy on me but for some reason sleep didn't came as easily as I expected.
Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of sharing a bed except I had done this before plenty of times. The difference was this wasn't some woman I had picked up for the night. She wasn't leaving in the morning.
Or maybe it was the soft scent of her shampoo lingering in the air something floral, something warm.
I turned onto my side, away from her shutting my eyes. It didn't matter. Morning would come soon enough.
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Women love Fabio, dont we?