Chapter 11 – Luca
LUCA
My father is sitting in my chair when I walk into my office at the club.
It's a power play, petty and obvious, but effective, nonetheless. He wants me to know that, even after handing over the day-to-day operations to his sons, he still sees this as his empire. His seat at the table.
His to reclaim whenever he feels like it.
I don't give him the satisfaction of reacting, I just enter the room and move straight to the cabinet, pulling out the paperwork that I want, and taking a seat on the large leather couch that lines one wall instead.
"You look tired," he says, not bothering to stand, just intertwining his fingers and resting them on his swollen stomach.
The urge to ask him what else he would expect given what’s happened is strong, but antagonizing him is pointless. He wants me to lose my temper. This is what he does for fun.
"I'm fine." Signing wherever Bruno has marked, I flick through the pages, glancing over the text quickly to make sure nothing new has been added.
"Hmm." His eyes, dark like mine but dead inside, sweep over me with that judgmental look I've known since childhood. "I trust the investigation is ongoing. The Irish are getting impatient."
I grit my teeth. There are expletive-laden messages coming in hourly from Finn. I’m more than aware of how they feel.
"We're following several leads." I set one contract to the side and pick up the next.
"A lead." He steeples his fingers, toying with me, about to deliver what he thinks is a killer blow. “Is that what you call her?”
With an angry flourish, I sign my name at the bottom of the last page and stand. Turning my back on my father, refusing to show him the anger that rises inside me at his mere presence, I stand and shove the documents back into the filing cabinet then lock it before pocketing the key.
"These things take time.”
"Time is a luxury we don't have." He rises from my chair with more effort than it should take a sitting Don, crossing to the one-way glass that overlooks the club floor below. "Weakness invites challengers. If people think you can’t handle this, that you’re distracted by a woman, they won’t believe you can handle running the entire region. "
If he knew I’d visited Sienna last night, he'd have said it outright. He's fishing, probing for cracks in my composure, but I've perfected the art of giving him nothing. That’s why he hates me.
And that I’m not ready? Those are his opinions, not anyone else's. Most of the other families are eager to see him step down, wanting to move forward instead of remaining stuck in the past.
But he continues to play his games.
“They question your focus,” he warns, hinting at a conclusion I won’t like.
“They can question me directly, to my face, if they are so concerned.” We both know he’s the mysterious they in this conversation.
Father’s fists ball at his sides.
Ten years ago, he got so furious that he put me in the hospital for a week. And that’s why I hate him. Once I recovered, I told him if he ever raised a fist to me again, I’d kill him with my bare hands. And he knows I meant it.
But while he might despise me for my defiance and strong-will, he knows I’m the safest pair of hands to lead the family forward and keep the Calvano’s in the wealth and power he’s accustomed to. That doesn’t mean he likes it.
We’re still standing toe to toe, staring at each other with barely concealed hatred, when Nico appears in the doorway. The relaxed demeanor he constantly portrays falters almost imperceptibly.
"Sorry to interrupt," he drawls, not sorry at all, but trying to diffuse some of the palpable tension in the room. "But Luca, we need to discuss the wedding arrangements. People are calling the house to find out what's happening. Carmella’s at her wit’s end."
I walk behind the desk, reclaiming the space as mine. "Nothing's happening. Kate is still in the hospital.”
Nico stares at me blankly. “Exactly. She’s not going to be walking down the aisle any time soon. Therefore, neither are you.”
My father’s lips curl up into a nasty smile as he regards me, interested in hearing my answer.
“The arrangements stand. Everyone’s aware of what the situation is, they’re just looking for gossip.
” Hoping Carmella will give them a tidbit of information they can trade like social currency.
“Don’t you think it would be insensitive and potentially inflammatory to our already precarious relationship with the Irish, to start canceling the wedding while she's still fighting for her life? "
Nico still looks confused. “But…”
“Or maybe, we should ask the caterers and florists how much notice they’ll need to adjust their plans if it’s a funeral we need instead.”
Nico finally gets my point. “I see what you mean.” But he lingers, still unsure what to do. "So, we tell people what?"
I stare at him and wonder, not for the first time, if he might be a sociopath. He can be charming and witty, yet seems to lack basic emotional intelligence.
"Thank them for their concern. Our focus is on praying for her and hoping her condition improves. The wedding and worrying about getting deposits back is the last thing on our minds at this difficult time."
Nico clears his throat. "Apparently, Kate's mother is at the hospital to oversee her daughter's care personally. Carmella is arranging accommodations for her nearby.”
“Fuck.” That’s all I need. Finn blowing up my phone, and Maeve watching my every move.
My father's composure flickers, just for a second, at the mention of the almost mythical Maeve O'Sullivan.
"Well, that settles it. I’ve decided to delay my return to Italy and help steady the ship during this difficult time. With no wedding, the handover will have to wait," he says, feigning paternal concern that fools no one.
Nico makes a sound that might be a curse or a cough. "How generous of you."
The look my father gives him could curdle milk, but Nico just smiles blandly and holds the door open.
I say nothing, just stew quietly, as my father gives me a curt nod.
Pausing in the doorway, he hesitates. “Prove me wrong, Luca. Don’t let history repeat itself.”
My knuckles turn white around the pen in my hand as rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt surges up within me.
"I'll walk you out," Nico offers, ushering him into the hallway, before setting down a folder on the corner of my desk and tapping it with his index finger. “Those real estate options we were discussing.”
They leave together, my father's back rigid with displeasure. As the door shuts, and for the first time in years, I let the memories that used to haunt me come.
The lake house. A place that used to be filled with good memories, the best of my life so far, is now my torture chamber. Wrists bound, one of which is definitely broken, and knees dragging along the flagstone store of the cellar, I hang, face swollen, blinded by a mixture of sweat and blood.
“This is your fault,” he warns. “You had to defy me.”
I hiss as another crack fills the air, and pain lances across my back. As I jerk away from it, my shoulder pops out of its socket, and I bite down hard on my lip to stop the scream that threatens to burst from me.
“If you had just done as you were told…” His ranting continued on and on. “Your loyalty should be to your family. ALWAYS. You think you can just walk away?”
As spots danced before me, and darkness swallowed me whole, I gritted my teeth and forced sound from my bruised throat.
“Don’t hurt her.”
His laughter bounces off the walls as another crack fills the air, and I brace myself, jerking on the ropes as another strike tears the flesh from my back. He leans close, rasping against my ear as he whispers with mocking, fake concern.
“She never showed up, Luca, which is why doing this hurts me all the more. That you were stupid enough to risk it all over a woman who clearly doesn’t care.”
Rolling my shoulders, stretching out the knots there that never quite goes away, I flip the official-looking file open.
Sienna Fox. The name is typed neatly at the top of the first page beside a photo that must have been copied from a driver's license. She's not smiling in it, but her beauty is undeniable, nonetheless.
Her eyes are tired, deep shadows carved beneath, and with her hair pulled back from her face in a messy bun, she looks more serious than the Sienna I remember. The one whose smile and laughter had me determined to leave this life of darkness behind.
I turn the page and start reading.
Her current address is listed as the shithole apartment I visited.
Her employment history shows Bellini's most recently, preceded by a string of waitressing jobs, none lasting more than a year, a brief stint as a receptionist at a hotel, and numerous jobs at grocery stores, cafes, and bars. All overlapping. It seems Sienna hasn’t had fewer than two jobs at a time since she moved here from her home town.
Three years ago, when her father died after an extended illness.
I pause briefly and fight back a wave of sympathy. She was close to her parents, a real daddy’s girl. Her father had reservations about me, about my family, but I respected that. He was right to. And I gladly stuck at it until he decided I was okay to have around.
The education section makes me pause. Two years of her undergrad, with stellar grades, and then nothing.
I check the dates. She managed only one semester after we split, with poor grades and sporadic attendance, and then nothing.
Currently enrolled in a part-time nursing program, she’s trying to get back on track, but looking at the endless jobs she’s working, it’s hard to see how she’ll get through it.
Her financial situation is worse than I’d imagined. Student debt that makes my eyes water, maxed-out credit cards and overdrafts, minimum payments bouncing or overdue, and no savings. Both of her parents passed away, and yet she has no assets except her twelve-year-old Honda.