Chapter 14
LUCA
I don’t sleep, just sitting in the kitchen chair and staring at the closed bedroom door. I wonder if she’s undressed to sleep, if maybe her dress is lying on the floor instead of hugging her curves.
The idea of her naked under the sheets I’ve slept in makes my dick twitch and I groan, rubbing my hands across my face. I’m exhausted by the time daylight hits, and all I’ve done all night is wrack my brain to figure out how the hell to get out of this.
I don’t want to kill her. I want her to be telling the truth. But even if she is…
I don’t want to let her go.
Diego shows up a little after nine. I’m sure he’ll chalk it up to making sure Sophia is still secured, but I know he’s checking in on me. He’s not stupid. He knows I’m twisted up about this.
About her.
He steps into the hallway and I look over at him.
“You look like shit,” he says flatly.
I snort. “Thanks. Didn’t sleep.”
Diego nods. “I’ll take the day shift so that you can get some rest.”
Relief washes over me, loosening the tight muscles in my shoulders. I do need to sleep, even though I’m not sure I’ll be able to, given the conflicting emotions swirling through me, my racing thoughts.
I stand up, stretching with a yawn. “Alright. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
My stomach rumbles. I’d fed Sophia last night but not eaten myself. I’ll grab something to eat on the way back to the penthouse, black out the windows, and do my best to rest.
Diego takes my spot in the chair, crossing his legs and pulling a worn paperback out of his back pocket, and I feel confident that Sophia isn’t getting away on his watch. I’m also grateful that he’s not pushing, not asking more questions.
I can’t explain it to myself, much less to Diego.
I make it to my car before exhaustion washes over me, and I sit in the driver’s seat, head thrown back against the headrest, shoulders slumped. It’s been a long night. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I curse, pulling it out.
Nico.
Just the man I hadn’t wanted to hear from. Because Nico only calls me when he wants something.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Jesus, who pissed in your cornflakes?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “What do you want, Nico?”
“Who says I want something? Can’t I just call up my brother to chat?”
I go silent, just waiting.
“But now that you ask…”
“Just spit it out, Nico.”
“I need some money.”
Of course he does. I took over my father’s finances when he was first diagnosed with cancer. Father had insisted, knowing that his decline may be swift, but they’d given him six months and it’s nearly two years later. Knowing him, he’ll live forever out of spite.
“For what?”
Nico sputters. “Does it matter? I’m your little brother, just float me a loan.”
“How much?”
“Twenty.”
“Grand?” It’s a drop in the bucket for us, but there’s no reason Nico would need that amount of money unless he was in some kind of trouble. “What loan shark do you have to pay off now?”
“It’s not a loan shark,” he mumbles.
“Take it out of your trust fund.”
“I’m saving it. For the future.”
What future? It’s not like Nico and I are likely to make it to fifty given this lifestyle, and given Nico lives so recklessly, he’ll probably be even younger when it ends.
I sigh. “Alright. Where are you? I’ll bring it by.”
“I’m at the mansion. Where the hell are you? Did you finally get laid?” Nico teases, but I’m in no mood.
“I’m working. You might want to try it sometime.”
“Tried to work last night,” he mutters. “You wouldn’t let me.”
“Because you could barely stand,” I retort, and Nico falls silent.
He usually would argue, would usually say something cruel back, but he needs the twenty grand. Father would have given it to him without a single word, but he no longer has access to the off-shore bank accounts, or even to the mountain of cash I keep stashed in the library of the mansion.
That’s the way he’d wanted it.
“I don’t want to go all senile and spend all our money,” he told me, handing me a ledger with all of our accounts listed. Nico had been angry at first, had wanted control over the money himself, but even Father knew that was a bad idea.
His favoritism didn’t extend to work. He knows I’ve always been the responsible one, besides, I’m a decade older than Nico. The empire is mine by bloodright, even if I’m not even sure I want it anymore.
I’ve spent my whole life working for my father. I barely had time to mourn my mother, being thrust into the life at fifteen years old. The first time I’d killed a man, my father had stood over me, ordering it. I was seventeen.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I say, frustrated, dreaming of my high thread count bedsheets.
“I’ll be here.” Nico hangs up without so much as a thank you, and I roll my eyes, finally pushing the push start of my car and backing out of the driveway.
I’m hoping Father is asleep, because if he’s not he’ll interrogate me about the fight last night.
He’s had a bug up his ass about the missing money off the books, even though it’s pocket change compared to our other dealings.
He wants Nico to succeed, and he can’t admit to himself that it’s simply not happening.
I love Nico, too, and I want him to do better, but I’m beginning to think he won’t. After all, he’s pushing thirty-five. He’s no spring chicken anymore, and he’s risking everything trying to keep up with the nineteen- or twenty-year-old girls he keeps on his arm.
I punch in the code at the gate to the mansion in just under an hour, driving up to the main house and parking behind Nico. I hope to get in and out of here as quickly as possible.
Cecilia, my father’s eye-candy of the week, answers the door. She’s twenty-five and looks like a Swedish model even though my father swears she’s part Italian.
Stick-thin, white-blonde, lip filler, vapid personality. All the things I hate about women in this lifestyle.
“Luca,” she coos, wrapping her thin arms around my neck. “It’s been so long since you’ve come to visit.”
Her words are slurred and there’s an empty wine bottle on the coffee table, probably mixed with a handful of pills.
“Hi, Cecilia,” I mumble, extracting myself by removing her arms from me gently.
I don’t hate the woman. She’s gotten swept up in this lifestyle and I can’t exactly blame her.
My father buys her anything she wants, keeps her in wine and pills.
The thing I don’t like about her is the way she acts like my stepmother.
Part of me wants to tell her she’s part of a revolving door of women my father takes care of, but I’m not cruel.
“Your father is in the dining room, having breakfast.”
“I’m here for Nico.”
She pouts. “Stop by and see Lorenzo, at least. He’s missed you."
Fat chance.
I don’t think Father would care if he never saw me again, as long as it meant I was still keeping up with business. It’s Nico he loves, Nico he wants to succeed. I just do all the hard work.
Instead, I just nod and kiss her cheek. I don’t hate Cecilia. I mostly feel bad for her, stuck here because of the booze and the drugs and the lifestyle. I hate the way my father treats women since my mother died, but I don’t hate her.
She gives me a big, watery smile and I walk past her up the stairs, looking for my brother.
I find him in the library, throwing books over his shoulder, clearly looking for my stash. I cross my arms over my chest and bark out his name.
Nico freezes, turning around slowly with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Looking for a book,” he explains, even though I haven’t asked.
“Didn’t know you could read,” I drawl, and he snorts out a laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. You got my money?”
“I got my money. I’m loaning it to you. I expect it back in a month. With interest.”
He puts a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’d charge your own brother interest?”
“Ten percent. Better than you’re going to get from Joey Stacks.”
Stacks is the loan shark most all of the mob uses. I never have, but I know how he operates, and if you don’t pay him his forty percent interest, he takes it out on your body. On your family.
Nico groans. ”Alright. Fair enough.”
I raise an eyebrow while he keeps staring at me. “You think I keep twenty stacks in my wallet? Get out and let me get it.”
“I should know the safe combination,” he mutters.
I tilt my head. “Maybe you should. Go ask Father about it.”
Nico pouts. He knows that it’s on Father’s orders that he doesn’t have the safe password. Father may favor Nico, but he’s no idiot. He’s not giving our safe combination to an addict, even if he is his son.
He slinks out the door and I wait a few seconds before heading to the largest bookshelf, pushing it forward just enough for me to slip behind it. I punch in the code—our mother’s birthday, off by one number. If Nico’s brain wasn’t fried, he might have figured it out already.
I take out twenty stacks exactly, not wanting to give him a cent over what he asked for. I don’t even want to give him this. I suspect he’ll be hosting a poker game soon, one that he doesn’t want me to know about.
I slide the bookshelf back into place after I finish and step out of the library.
Nico stands in the hallway, bouncing on his heels. He’s desperate for the money. Maybe too desperate.
He reaches for it and I snatch it away, holding it over my head. Nico’s a few inches shorter than me and he’s always hated it.
“C’mon, this isn’t keep-a-way, Luca. We’re grown.”
“Are we? Are you? What do you need it for?”
Nico bites his lip. “Does it matter?”
I hold it above my head for a moment longer then relax, relenting. I’ll find out what he’s doing with it. Put a stop to it. Nico doesn’t think there are consequences for his actions, but he’s going to learn otherwise.
“Fine. Don’t spend it all in one place."
“Thanks, grandma,” he scoffs, counting the money.