Chapter Four
Chiara
I am sitting in the bath, forehead resting on my knees. The sound of water dripping from the tap into the bath echoes loudly like detonating bombs.
Drip…drip…drip…
* * * *
Cold droplets hit me and I screech in outrage. “Lucas, go elsewhere if you want to shake water off like a dog!”
“No can do, sweetheart. I like this side better.” Lucas grins and flops on his back on the towel laid out at the edge of the pool, right next to where I have my feet dangling in the water.
I make a show of rolling my eyes, but I chuckle at his antics.
He looks younger than his thirty-five years.
He could easily pass for ten years younger with his dirty-blond hair, twinkling blue eyes and boyish grin.
But his face is all but immature, the high cheekbones, straight nose and sharp jaw making a stark contrast to his full lips and his dimple that appears on his clean-shaven cheek every time he grins. He is unfairly handsome.
And I’m not even talking about his body.
I let my eyes trail over him from under my lashes, hoping he won’t notice how I am checking him out.
His body is something made of sin, all hard ridges and lean muscle.
His flawless skin is glistening under the sun.
Unlike the usual tattoos that others in his trade favor, his front is ink-free.
But I have seen him shirtless enough times to know that his back is adorned with midnight-black ink, a snarling demon reaper with its wings outstretched over his shoulders.
It is beautifully executed and mesmerizing, and so different from his bright persona that I can’t help but wonder how he came to get it.
I realize that I have been staring for way too long and heat creeps up my neck.
I hastily look away from the way his abs shift under his bronze skin while he wiggles on his towel to find the best position.
My throat goes dry as he stretches under the sun like a lazy cat.
A very big cat, more like a panther. Having him so close instantly makes me nervous and self-conscious.
I may have inherited the slender build from my mother’s side, and people might say I am cute or even pretty, but I’m aware that with my short frame and small bosom, I’m far from the tall, busty models Lucas is used to dating.
I pull my legs up and hug my knees, feeling suddenly shy.
I look over my shoulder, weighing if I should go inside under the guise of getting something to drink.
As if he sensed my inner battle, he grabs my wrist and blinks up at me.
“Stay, bella.”
I tense at the endearment he gives his groupies. “Don’t call me that, I already told you that I don’t like it.”
He gives me another of his panty-dropping grins and I glare down at him. He releases me and holds up his hands in an appeasing manner. “Okay, okay, sorry. But stay, it’s so nice and peaceful out here.”
I huff. “It would be even more peaceful for you if you stayed here by yourself while I go get a drink.”
“You crush my heart. You know what I mean.”
I roll my eyes but this time I can’t contain my smile. “Fine, but if I wither away from thirst, it’ll be your fault.”
“Then join me in the pool, it’s nice and wet.” He winks.
I glare at him again although heat creeps up my face.
I am not innocent by any means, but his easy flirtation makes me shy.
I know that he doesn’t mean it like he is interested in me.
Flirting and charming is his way of expressing himself, it’s his second nature and he directs it toward anyone, female and male alike.
And people flock to him like planets gravitating around the sun.
He is blinding them, pulling everyone into his bright orbit.
It’s endearing and annoying. Once again, I am teetering on the edge of being either exasperated or amused by his sunny personality.
“A penny for your thoughts.” His quiet voice makes me jump.
Shit, I had been watching the water for a while, lost in my thoughts. I shrug my shoulders. We have been friends for over a year, and I have found that I can easily share my thoughts with him.
“Just thinking. About the sun, actually.”
“The sun?”
I glance at him, my mouth curling into a smile. “You remind me of Phoebus.”
He blinks, caught off guard. “Phoebus?”
“It means the bright one, referring to the sun or Apollo the sun god.”
He whistles low and a grin spreads over his face. “Of course I am.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re unbearable.”
“Accurate, though.” He leans back and stretches, locking his hands behind his head and making his biceps coil under his bronze skin. I gulp—I could definitely use that drink now.
“Being compared to a god usually does that,” he declares smugly.
“Get over yourself,” I huff. “It wasn’t even meant as a compliment.”
He squints up at me. “Wait, isn’t that the guy from that tragic French novel you’re always trying to make me read?”
“Yes, the captain of the guard in Victor Hugo’s Hunchback of Notre-Dame.”
He scoffs. “Well, thank God I’m not Quasimodo, the hunchback.”
“Believe me, Quasimodo was the best of them. Phoebus was the…womanizer.”’
“What?” He gasps theatrically. “Are you saying I’m a manwhore?”
“Your words, not mine,” I shoot back with a saccharine smile.
Something flashes behind his eyes, but it’s so brief that I don’t know what it was, or if I imagined it. In a blink his grin is bright and carefree again.
“I prefer enthusiast,” he declares, loud and unapologetic.
I throw my head back with a groan. “Of course you do.”
“Still,” he adds, smirking, “being the sun has its perks. Everyone gravitates toward it. Can’t blame them.” His grin is devastating and my heart clenches painfully in my chest.
“So,” he continues lightly, “does your precious Phoebus at least survive?”
“Yes. He survived and settled in a loveless marriage.”
Lucas chuckles. “Sounds like a win to me.”
My throat constricts. “You really think so?”
He flashes me another grin. “The sun doesn’t need love, or anyone,” he says easily. “Love is for the weak.”
Suddenly I am feeling chilled despite the warm weather. I stand, brushing imaginary dust from my arms. “I’m getting a glass of water.”
“Running already?” he calls after me, amused.
From that day on, I kept calling him Phoebus when I wanted to rile him up and he kept brushing it off with a big smile and a laugh, cocky and self-confident as always.
* * * *
‘Just friends.’
That’s how he sees me. Maybe not even that. What he’d said sounded awfully like pity.
I had been prepared for a rejection when I decided to open my heart to him.
I had even hoped for a rejection. At least, that would’ve set my heart free to look elsewhere, because let’s face it, someone like him would never look at someone like me.
Daughter of a traitor. Spineless Mafia princess.
A mere pawn, worthless beyond the role she was born into.
I had prepared myself for a kind rebuff with a fond smile and some meaningless words.
But not this… Not for him tearing my heart out and stomping on the broken pieces until all that’s left was dust. Admittedly, he didn’t know I was there to hear his words, but it hurt more that he never told me how he felt about me.
To hear him say those words, voicing what he really thought of me, and to one of his ex-lovers like Tiffany of all people, that shattered me beyond repair.
‘She’s too soft for the likes of me.’
His words loop endlessly in my head until I am drowning in them. I feel like I am drifting away, hollow, cold…as if the last parts of myself drained out with my tears and all that is left is an empty shell.
When I climb out of the bathtub, I am still numb, but there is also a new resolve blooming in my chest.
I am done, with him, with Nathan. With Father. I am done with all of them.
I fish my phone out of my clutch I had carelessly thrown on the bed when I got into my room. There’s a missed call from Lily and a message from him.
I send Lily a quick text.
Hey Lee, I went home, sorry for not telling you but I wasn’t feeling well. Feeling better now, I’ll text you tomorrow. Luv U.
Then I take a deep breath before tapping Lucas’ message.
Where are you, sweetheart? You still owe me a dance.
Rage makes my heart race and my head spin. He has no right! And how did he even find out that I left? He should be holed up somewhere with Tiffany by now. I don’t bother replying and angrily swipe the message feed away, refusing to give him any more of my tears.
Then I open another feed and type a message.
Hey, Erin.
Erin’s reply is almost immediate.
Hey Chiquita, what’s up?
I smile despite the heaviness in my chest. She had given me that nickname after we sang Abba’s song together during karaoke night.
“I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet,” she sang. “That’s so you,” she’d said after the song ended, hugging me.
“But remember that I’m a shoulder you can lean on anytime. ”
I type.
I need your help, can we meet tomorrow?
Of course! Tell me when and where, I’ll be there! My boss won’t be pleased, but I’ll make it up to him. Wink emoji, eggplant emoji
I huff out a short laugh while my face heats.
Erin has that power to make even the grumpiest grump laugh.
Proof is that she is married to grim and forbidding Matteo Di Rossi, Damiano’s enforcer.
And she’s giving him a run for the money, making him lose his mind with her shenanigans.
He is also her boss in the data department she works in.
Data as in hacking for the famiglia, or whatever they do in their secret lair.
Point is, she is one of the best hackers in the country and I start to breathe easier now, knowing that I have her on my side. I know I can convince her of my plan.
Chiara Bianchi must die, and Erin will help me.