Luca - Eleven Months Later
I tug my coat tighter around me as I trot down the steps to the waiting car to take me to Dominic Vitale’s home.
It’s cold as fuck today, making me miss Italy, which cooled off in winter but was mild compared to this arctic air.
Has it really been almost a year since I made the decision to come home to New York?
I wonder as I slide into the back seat.
The last eleven months have been a blur.
Right after Christmas last year, I returned to Italy to secure the right people to manage the vineyards, finalize distribution contracts, and explain to our Italian partners why I wouldn't be the face of the Monti business anymore.
By the beginning of April, I was back in New York, and it’s been a culture shock speaking in English most of the time again.
My tongue still trips sometimes, Italian phrases slipping out when I'm tired or angry.
The other day, I cursed out a supplier in Italian for ten minutes before realizing he couldn't understand a word.
The most challenging part has been diving into the deep end of the New York business.
Coming back meant stepping into shoes I hadn’t planned to fill this soon.
My father's condition is progressing slowly, but progressing.
He waits for my deceased mom to return from outings. He forgets the names of people he’s known for decades.
At the La Corona Easter event, he called one of Elena’s children Luca, as if he thought the boy was me.
It was like the last twenty-five years never happened.
Not everything's been darkness.
Gabriella's wedding to Marco Calabresi brought a day of joy. Father had a good day.
He was clear-eyed, present, proud.
And then holding my niece, Sabina, named after my mother, three months ago made all the bullshit fade away for a moment.
Gabriella looked radiant, and I’d never seen Marco show a tear until that day.
The only sad moment was that our mother wasn’t there to meet her granddaughter.
The other positive in having life come at me fast and furious is that I haven’t had time to ruminate over Elena and her infuriating attitude toward me.
Only late at night when I can’t sleep do I work to piece together what happened to Elena's father.
The evidence that sent him to prison was a slam dunk.
Maybe too perfect.
But if someone had set him up, it wasn’t me.
I’d tried to help him, not that it matters to her. She’s shut me out for good.
What burns most is that her cousin Dominic gives her what I couldn’t.
Protection. Stability. A home.
He stepped in while I was forced out, and for that, I'm both grateful and resentful.
If Dominic could see past family lines to recognize my innocence, why couldn't Elena?
Hell, even Dom’s men, who once worked for his father, don’t seem to blame me, a concern I had when I returned considering I’d been a marked man.
I remember early on after returning home, Gio Sarto, who’d been with Dom’s father forever, took some time to size me up, figure out whether I’d been against Don Vitale back when I was helping his brother. I assured him I believed I was doing Don Vitale a solid.
Gio shrugged and walked off.
Why is Elena so hell-bent on believing I was responsible for her father’s problems when no one else in the family does?
She, who once claimed to know my heart better than anyone, believed the worst of me without hesitation.
I scoff, hoping Dominic is preparing to serve something potent.
I need it to burn away the resentment that comes when I think of Elena.
Not that I can stop.
Thinking of her brings to mind her kids.
They turned six a few months back.
I've done the math a hundred times, torturing myself with the timeline.
She was over me and in bed with someone so fast, it made my head spin. Who is this mother fucker?
Where is he?
Why doesn’t anyone talk about him?
The only thing I can think of is that someone in the Vitale family killed him.
I know I need to stop torturing myself about it, but my heart refuses to listen.
Yesterday, while Christmas shopping, I saw her at Macy’s with her kids.
She didn't notice me, too busy adjusting a little girl's coat.
Adalina.
The boys are Rocco and Elio.
They were racing around a Christmas display.
Elena's face when she looked at them was radiant.
She once looked at me like that.
That thought immediately takes me back to the Hampton beach house nearly seven years ago.
Elena's head on my chest as we watched the sunrise from the beach.
Our little friends with benefits turned to something real that weekend.
We started making plans for the future.
I was already rehearsing the discussion with my father and preparing a speech to ask her father for her hand.
We’d even discussed children.
"Three," she'd said. "I want three children."
I shake my head as we pull onto Dom’s street.
At least she got her wish.
I've dated other women since.
Smart, beautiful women, but none of them were her.
I’ve given up on finding someone else to love.
That’s not to say my bed is empty.
On occasion, I find a willing and able woman to fuck who, like me, just wants a good time and then to move on.
My driver stops outside Dom’s place and opens my door.
I step out, pull my coat around me again, and remind myself that I’m Luca Monti, heir to the Monti family business.
Not a pussy pining for a woman who thinks I’m lower than pond scum.
Elena has moved on. It's time I finally did too.
Dom’s man, Roberto, opens the door to me, taking my coat and leading me to the La Corona meeting room.
Six months ago, my father would be attending this meeting. Now it falls to me.
I’m not the Don, but the other members of La Corona are in agreement that my father is no longer able to fulfill the duties being a member of La Corona requires.
I’m the last one to arrive.
Marco Calabresi, normally stone-faced, is showing Leonardo Ferraza pictures of Sabina on his phone.
"Luca." Dominic nods, looking up from his phone.
“Gentlemen. Am I late?”
Dom shakes his head, setting his phone on the table. “No, not at all. Roberto, can you get Luca a drink? Scotch?”
I nod as I take a seat, the one my father used to sit in. “Thank you.”
Once I have my drink and we’re alone, the meeting begins.
Marco informs us of upcoming Christmas shipments and then reminds everyone of the coming winter festival.
I frown, thinking how odd it is that he’d be the one bringing it up.
For as long as I can remember, the guy hated Christmas and all the pomp and circumstances surrounding it.
Then again, he was never going to marry, either. I guess my sister has something to do with his change of heart.
Maybe my sister could give Elena whatever elixir she served him to change her heart.
I shake my head, frustrated at how easily my mind can go to Elena. Or more accurately, never seems to stop thinking of her.
“I had a situation at the docks,” Dom says.
"What's the damage?" Leo asks.
"Three shipments intercepted in two weeks.” Dom looks pissed more than concerned. “And one of my men informed me that Agent Ricci has been snooping around again.”
“Who?” I ask, not liking hearing the word “Agent.”
“Agent Ricci. She’s a major burr up my ass.” Marco’s face contorts to disdain. “I wonder if Blackwood has given up and she’s taking up the mantle?”
I glance at the other men. “Blackwood? The Fed who approached Gabriella last year?”
“And my daughter Isabella the year before,” Leo chimes in.
I’m vaguely aware of what’s gone on in the last two years.
Someone tried to pit the Ferraza family against the Calabresi family by claiming Marco was involved in Leo’s wife’s death.
My sister didn’t need any help in thinking Marco was after our family business, but Agent Blackwood did try to use that against Marco to attempt to recruit her.
I’m also aware that in both those cases, someone in the family was involved and both are now dead.
“I thought all the trouble the last two years were inside jobs.” I won’t deny I was shocked to learn Frank Bruno, my father’s loyal lieutenant, had tried to kill Marco and even threatened my sister.
“There were definitely people on the inside,” Leo says.
“Probably still are,” Marco adds. “Roman and I are convinced someone is playing a long game. We still don’t know who was targeting Antonio’s business last year.”
“But it stopped, right?” Dom looks over at me.
I nod. “Things have been pretty smooth since I came back.”
“Well, Frank is dead,” Leo says.
Marco shakes his head. “Frank was after me, but I don’t think he was behind sabotaging Antonio.”
“But it stopped when he died,” Dom argues.
Marco shrugs. “Probably so we think it’s Frank. To be honest, Roman and I have been on edge by how quiet this year has been. Could be your problems are the start, Dom.”
“Could this agent be behind it?” I ask, wondering why they’re not considering that.
“Maybe,” Marco says. “Or whoever is behind it all is using them. Blackwood has been brazen in his approach to Isabella and Gabriella. Not something he’d do if he was running a covert inside job.”
I suppose he has a point and yet… “I once had a two-fold approach to dealing with a rival in Italy. I made all the moves to negotiate, but on the downlow, I was turning all his men against him.”
Dom arches a brow. “No honor among thieves?”
“He was feeding the Guardia di Finanza information about me. He had to go.” I sip my scotch, feeling proud of how that plan worked out.
“Is that like the treasury department?” Leo asks.
“More like the money and tax cops,” I explain. “The point is, this Fed could have a multi-tiered approach.”
Marco seems to consider this. “We know Ricci works for Blackwood.”
Dom sneers. “That woman is the bane of my existence.”
Leo snorts. “But she’s got legs like nobody’s business.”
Dom glares at him.
“What we do know is that someone is targeting La Corona. They’ve been quiet so far this year, but maybe that’s so we let our guard down again. Or maybe after the purging we all did, they needed to regroup. Either way, we need to keep our guard up.” Marco looks at each of us in turn.
The meeting goes on for longer than usual, and after it ends, I linger in the conference room, pretending to review documents while the others file out.
Dominic remains behind, checking messages on his phone.
I've known him since we were boys.
He’s only six years older than I am, so we grew up together.
Me, Dom, Gabriella, and Elena.
Isabella is around Elena’s age, but she didn’t hang with us as much.
Marco was older than me by nearly sixteen years, so I didn’t know him as well until I joined the business.
I think about how Dom has looked out for Elena. He’s pretty much all she has left.
“You’re handling Christmas this year, right?” I ask.
He nods. “Elena is playing hostess for me. The kids are loving it.”
I pause, wondering if I should indulge my curiosity. "The triplets are six now, right?"
"Since May." Pride colors his voice. "Smart kids. Handful, though. I don’t know how Elena does it sometimes."
I swirl the little bit of amber liquid remaining in my glass, feigning casual interest. "Their father isn’t around?"
Dominic's expression shifts subtly. "No. Never has been."
“Doesn’t seem like something you or your father would have let go. Is he—”
“He'd better be or I’ll rip him from limb to limb for abandoning her.” Dominic studies me over the rim of his glass. "Why the sudden interest, Monti?"
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "Just curious. Three kids is a lot for anyone to handle alone."
"She's not alone. She has me. The family. La Corona family."
"But not their father." I can't keep the edge from my voice.
Dominic sets his glass down with care. As if he’s tired of my questions but holding in his annoyance out of respect. "Look, if you're asking if I know who he is, I don't. Not for certain."
"But you have suspicions?"
"Elena was going through something when she got pregnant. Wouldn't tell anyone who he was, not even when my father threatened to disown her." He shakes his head. "Whatever happened between them, it left scars."
“I remember being surprised when I heard she was pregnant.” I really should shut up.
“All of us were. But she’s family. We take care of family.”
I study him. “That’s all she and the kids are to you?” Yes, she’s been a jerk to me, but she deserves a family who cares for her, not one that acts just out of duty.
“Are you questioning my relationship with my cousin?”
Fuck. I’ve gone too far.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “No. Not at all, Don Vitale.” I use his formal name to show respect. “I just think it must be hard for her.”
“I don’t see you helping her.”
For a minute, I worry he knows my history with her.
Maybe he thinks I’m the father.
No, if he thought that, he’d be tearing me limb from limb.
He’d probably have the other members of La Corona’s permission to do so.
“What does she need?” I ask.
“A husband.”
I swallow.
He laughs. “Right. That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, I’m not going to propose a match.”
I bite my lower lip to keep from saying something stupid like, “I wouldn’t oppose a match between me and Elena.”
For a moment, I seriously consider blurting the words out.
It would definitely force her to accept me.
But I don’t want that.
I want her to love me like she did seven years ago.
Inwardly, I kick myself. I hate that I can’t stop wanting her.
Why can’t I let her go?
Why can’t I move on?