Chapter Forty-Three
Chiara
Fury is washing over me like a tidal wave. That overbearing jerk!
I am fuming as my disbelieving gaze is locked at the door Lucas just disappeared through.
My mind is reeling from his off-handed reply when I informed him that I was going out today.
”It’s not safe outside, you’re not leaving here. Period.”
I slam my mug on the kitchen counter. We’ll see, I seethe.
He has locked me up here since he carried me inside the day of our sham-wedding, and it’s clear he thinks he has ownership over me that gives him the right to order me around.
I trudge upstairs to get dressed then go down to the garage.
Roberto is there, polishing a car with a cloth.
“Hello, Roberto.” I move closer, smiling with fake confidence. “Could you let me take one of the cars? There’s somewhere I need to go.”
He frowns. “You’re not allowed to go out alone, Mrs. Romano.”
Allowed. My fury is boiling over, and I barely manage to hide it under a blinding smile. “Um, right. Could you take me then?”
He hesitates for a beat.
“Lucas said I should just ask you,” I add brightly. “I can call him and have him talk to you if you want.”
Luckily, he shakes his head. “No need. Let me get the keys for the Rolls.”
I almost fist pump in victory. Five minutes later, we are pulling out of the grounds, and I breathe easier.
Half an hour later, I slide out of the door Roberto is holding and step between the graves to my family plot resting under a red maple.
I stop in front of the fresh grave. The smooth marble is gleaming under the morning sun.
“Papà.” I breathe, throat tight. Are there even words to express my whirling thoughts?
I settle for the simpler choice. “I miss you…the old you. The father who held me and rocked me on his knees to make me laugh. I-I’m sorry for the last words we had.
I’m sorry for not saying goodbye…for not telling you I love you.
” My eyes are stinging as I try to make out the other grave through my tears.
“You are with Mamma now. I hope that both of you are at peace.”
I stand for what feels like an eternity in silence, letting the wind gradually dry my tears, the sun seeping through the foliage warms my chilled soul, and the silence encompasses me like a veil.
When I straighten my shoulders and prepare to leave, a voice calls my name.
“Miss Bianchi. Chiara.”
I swivel around, heart sinking and pulse hammering, to face Lorenzo Vitale. I realize only now how alone I am in this remote cemetery. There is no one around, Roberto had stayed at the car to give me privacy.
“It’s Mrs. Romano now,” I reply coolly, trying to ignore the chill running down my spine at the dangerous glint crossing his eyes.
“Come on.” He huffs, with a dismissive gesture. “We both know this marriage is a farce.”
I don’t reply but cram my hands into my coat pockets to hide the shaking.
“The reasons why Romano married you might not be clear,” he muses without waiting for my reply, and steps closer to stand in front of me. “Probably some sense of duty.”
Duty. I flinch and his smile becomes predatory.
“Whatever he offered you, it’s nothing compared to what I can offer you, Chiara. Think about it.”
I remain silent, forcing my face to remain expressionless.
He leans in with familiarity, crowding my space.
“I’m the king of an empire. I have it all, power, wealth, influence.
You could have it too, as my queen. Here, you are nothing, a wife someone married out of duty.
He might be acting like the doting husband now, but we both know that Romano will soon tire, and go back to his old ways of debauchery and indulgence.
What is the saying again? A leopard never changes its spots? ”
All my blood drains from my face. He knows my darkest fears, and he is mercilessly tearing me apart with a vision of a future I am dreading. I shake my head.
“I, however”—he takes a step forward and drops his voice to a low murmur, seductive like a siren’s song—“I would value you as the queen you are meant to be. Your mother wanted this for you because she wanted the best for her beloved daughter.”
“You were born for this, Chiara. You’ll claim your place as a rightful queen. Anything else is beneath you,” Mother whispers from beyond the grave. New tears begin to gather in my eyes and my breath comes out in short gulps as the edge of my soul begins to crumble.
Lorenzo lifts his hand to wipe away my tears, and I am too stunned to move away.
“I-it doesn’t matter anymore.” My voice is small, and I clear my throat. “The truth is that I am married, and I—”
“Move away from her!” a voice bellows from the path leading to us. My whole body goes rigid.
Shit… Lucas.
A second later, I am ripped away and plastered to his side with his arm banded around me, while his other hand is holding a gun to Lorenzo’s head.
“I warned you to stay away from her,” Lucas snarls, chest heaving and eyes feral.
For a beat I am convinced that he’ll shoot the other man.
But then Damiano steps into view and puts his hand on Lucas’ outstretched arm. “Lower the gun, Luc. This is not the place.”
The ensuing silence is deafening, only disrupted by the loud whooshing of the blood pounding in my ears. Lucas doesn’t budge, he seems not to have heard Damiano’s low command.
“Look at the image you are giving your wife,” Lorenzo sneers when he’s recovered from his surprise.
After another long silence, Lucas blinks. Then he looks down at my face, lucidity gradually bleeding back into his crazed gaze. He slowly lowers his gun, and Damiano takes it from him.
“You saw that.” Lorenzo turns to Damiano with a smug smile. “He pulled a gun on me—this is considered an act of aggression. I won’t let it slip easily.”
“You were threatening his wife, a helpless woman all alone in a cemetery, paying her respects to her parents’ graves,” Damiano replies calmly.
Lorenzo narrows his eyes for a second, but then he seems to realize that the situation is not in his favor. He directs his gaze toward me. “Think about what I said.” He turns to the men. “Gentlemen, I’ll be on my way.” And he is gone.
I let out a relieved breath when his back disappears in the distance.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lucas grabs my upper arms and whirls me around to face him, eyes blazing into mine with madness and murder.
“Luc—” Damiano steps nearer, but Lucas cuts him off without breaking eye contact.
“Leave us. This is between me and my wife.”
After a second of hesitation, Damiano looks at me. “I’ll be in earshot.” He steps away, but stays in sight.
“What the fuck did you think,” Lucas repeats, voice shaking with barely controlled rage. “Coming out here on your own. Without protection. Without me. Anything could’ve happened had Roberto not texted me.”
His eyes are blazing like two malevolent blue flames, and I shiver from the intensity of their heat.
“Lucas, I only wanted—”
“I told you not to go out!” Lucas roars and I jump from the viciousness of his tone. But I also feel my face heating up with anger.
“I am not a prisoner you can keep locked up,” I shout right back.
“You are my wife. And as my wife you are supposed to listen to me.” His grip on my arms hardens.
I want to hit him so hard now my hands shake. “I’m not your wife! This marriage is fake, this farce is going too far!”
Lucas recoils as if I slapped him. Then he swallows hard.
He begins to open his mouth, but then changes his mind.
He spins around with a vicious snarl, grabs my elbow and hauls me after him toward the parking lot.
He unceremoniously shoves me into the waiting car and slides in after me, signaling Roberto to drive.
“Mr. Romano—” Roberto starts tentatively.
“Don’t!” Lucas’ reply is scathing. “I’ll deal with you later. First, I need to talk to my wife.”
Roberto’s shoulders tense but he drives in silence.
“Lucas,” I start with a shaky voice. “Roberto only took me because I lied to him. Please don’t blame him.”
“He deserves way more than just blame, wife. He put you in danger.” Lucas’ eyes are on me, dark and merciless. He reaches for the button and soon the partition rises, leaving me alone with him. I swallow, dread coiling in my gut.
“Lucas, I only wanted to go visit my parents’ graves.” I try to reason with him.
“I told you not to go out,” he seethes again. “And you disobeyed me. You defied me. You made my man disobey me. Anything could’ve happened, Vitale could’ve taken you, or worse...” The last words are a guttural shout that makes me jump in my seat.
“I… I won’t apologize.” My voice cracks although I force it to sound braver than I feel. “I am not a prisoner to be confined.”
“You are forgetting the reason for all this,” he replies, gaze icy and voice low now. “Is war what you want? Because today nearly caused it.”
My breath stutters and my throat constricts. This is unfair.
“No matter the reason, you are my wife,” he goes on, his voice still low, still cool, like shards of ice tearing my heart to shreds. “It’s time you learned your place.”
I don’t reply, instead averting my face. I can’t reply. Tears are threatening to choke me as a part of me withers further and my heart crumbles to dust.