Chapter 15 LUCA
LUCA
Seven days. That is the exact span of time Nora has spent turning this twelve-bedroom house into an obstacle course, slipping into the dining room only when my seat is cold and the coffee pot is empty.
I've built empires on strategy. I've buried men who thought they could outmaneuver me. And still I can't figure out how a woman with no security training and a smart mouth has turned an entire estate into a game of hide and seek, one where I am always, somehow, it.
At six in the morning, her fork scrapes against a plate in the empty kitchen before the household wakes.
By seven, she is gone. At dinner, a silver tray goes up the stairs and comes back down with half a piece of dry toast missing, while Nonna mutters under her breath about ungrateful Londoners.
Twice today I walked past the library glass; both times, she sat in the velvet wingback with the same open spine facing her lap, her eyes fixed on the exact same page while two hours ticked away on the clock.
I laid open the bloody reality of this family on that cold warehouse floor.
I knew it would make her pull away. I knew it would carve a canyon between us.
But deep down, a dark part of me wanted her to witness it.
I wanted her to watch me take a man's life and see the thrill I get from ending an enemy.
I wanted her to see the real monster behind the tailored suit, even if it meant she would look at me with absolute dread.
Tonight, like every night this week, I find myself standing outside her door at an hour no sane man keeps.
The hallway is dark except for the strip of light under her threshold, which means she isn't asleep either.
Small comfort. Misery loves a witness, even a silent one on the other side of heavy, impenetrable oak.
My knuckles hover an inch from the dark wood.
I pull my hand back, shove both fists deep into my trouser pockets, and stare at the grain of the oak.
On the other side, no floorboard creaks.
No bedsheets rustle. The silence from Nora presses against the door heavier than any profanity she aimed at my head back till now.
I reach out again, fingers curling into a tight fist before dropping uselessly to my side.
"You're doing the fucking thing again."
Enzo's voice cuts through the dim corridor with a sharp, mocking edge. He leans back against the wallpaper, chewing on a dried apricot he probably stole from the pantry, looking entirely too smug for someone who should have been unconscious three hours ago.
"There is no thing." I refuse to turn around, keeping my focus locked on the sliver of golden light beneath her door frame.
"There is definitely a thing." He saunters over, folding his arms and inspecting the wood like an appraiser. "You stand out here every night like an overpriced statue. It's been seven days, Luca. Even Adrian noticed, and Adrian usually only notices when a sniper is aiming at your forehead."
"Adrian has work to do. Evidently you don't."
"My calendar cleared up right around the time my older brother started lurking outside guest suites like a Victorian specter." He taps the paneling with two knuckles. "You want me to kick it open for you? I could claim I tripped on the runner."
"Go to bed, Enzo. Before I assign you to the docks in Palermo for the winter."
"The docks have fresh sea air. Right now I am providing essential family intervention services.
" He drives his shoulder into mine with deliberate, irritating weight.
"Knock. Turn the handle. Or walk away. Pick one, boss.
It gives me secondhand embarrassment watching you get intimidated by a five foot something woman. "
I clench my jaw and stare at the brass knob. "I'm not scared of her. I'm just giving her some space."
"Giving her space looks an awful lot like sulking from over here." He swallows the last piece of fruit and points a sticky finger at my chest. "Look at yourself. You look like a kid who lost his lunch money."
I snap my chin around, leveling the exact stare that makes our capos double check their ledgers. "Test me again tonight, Enzo. Please."
He puts his hands up in mock surrender, completely unfazed. "I'm just pointing out how ridiculous this is. You shot a guy in the head last week without your pulse jumping once, and now a wooden door has you sweating through your shirt. It's weird to watch."
I snap under my breath, lowering the volume before it vibrates through the wood. "She watched a family get executed six feet from where she stood. You don't just tap on the door and offer her a warm pastry after that."
"Nonna offered her a cannoli yesterday," Enzo counters, his head tilted with absolute seriousness. "Nora took one bite, told her the ricotta lacked citrus, and handed it back. Nonna looked like she wanted to adopt her on the spot or poison her water supply. It was fifty-fifty for an hour."
Enzo watches my expression shift, his amusement fading around the edges into something sharper. "So what is the master strategy here? Stand out in the carpeted hallway until sunrise hoping she opens the door to throw a shoe at you?"
"I stand out here because if I open that door and step inside, I won't want to leave." The words rip past my teeth before I can pull them back, stripped clean of every ounce of calculated restraint I normally possess.
Enzo freezes mid-breath, blinking at me as if I just grew an extra head. "Holy shit. That is genuinely terrifying. I thought you were just sulking without her sharp mouth, but you're actually down bad."
I turn my eyes back toward the floorboards. "Keep your mouth shut."
"I'm giving legitimate counsel here." He drops his volume, glancing at the threshold before leaning closer.
"Use spoken language. English, preferably, since her Italian is limited to asking Nonna for more espresso and telling Matteo to choke on a fig.
Open the door, state your name, and talk to her. "
"She avoids every corridor I enter within forty seconds. Her preference is obvious."
"Did you figure that out from her schedule, or are you just hiding behind the walls because your ego hurts?" He scratches his jaw and shakes his head. "Because from where I'm standing, you're both just being stubborn idiots in separate rooms."
I don't answer, because he's right, and I hate when he's right, because it means he's paying attention, and lately everyone in this house is paying entirely too much attention to whatever this is that I refuse to name.
"She isn't fragile, Luca." He nudges my arm again, his tone settling into something blunt.
"Sofia sat with her on the terrace this afternoon.
Nora made three separate jokes about hiring a private militia to burn our garage down, and Sofia laughed so hard she choked on her tea.
She isn't shattering into pieces. She's keeping her distance from you specifically. "
"I am fully aware of the distinction."
"Could have fooled me. Because you're standing here like a creep, as if remaining silent in the shadows will somehow persuade a corporate crisis manager that you're a harmless civilian accountant."
The jab hits cleanly between my ribs. I drag a palm across the rough stubble on my jaw, glaring at the crack of yellow light that refuses to go dark.
Cold venom coats my voice as I meet his eyes.
"What should I explain to her, Enzo? That I regret what she saw?
I do not regret pulling that trigger. I do not regret killing his entire family.
I enjoyed putting a traitor in the dirt.
I liked watching the light leave his eyes, and I will not pretend to be a civilized man just to make her feel safe. "
Enzo taps the heel of his loafer against the skirting board.
"Then tell her that exact sentence. Then tell her why did we became like this.
She is not a mind reader brother, she lived a life completely different from us.
You can't expect her to decode a monster without knowing his sufferings.She respects brutal a lot more than she respects cowardice. "
"I will keep your insightful psychological profile in mind when I write your next performance review."
"I expect a substantial bonus." He shifts his weight, the teasing evaporating from his eyes until only the old, familiar protectiveness remains.
"You've had this habit for ten years. Whenever something matters enough to hurt, you plant your feet outside the room and convince yourself you aren't permitted inside.
You stood outside Sofia's bedroom for six months after the funeral.
You paced outside your own office every night for a year.
Now you're doing the exact same drill in front of Nora. "
"This is entirely different."
"Keep telling yourself that, boss."
I have no response for that, mostly because he has dismantled a decade of defensive armor in less than sixty seconds while standing in his sweatpants.
"Go to sleep, Enzo." I rub the bridge of my nose, exhausted by his accuracy.
He pushes away from the plaster with an exaggerated sigh, rotating his shoulders until his spine gives a satisfying crack. "I'm going. But remember, standing in a hallway until four in the morning is not a romantic tactic. It is a cry for help."
"Your input has been recorded and discarded."
He retreats backward down the hall, flashing that infuriating smirk. "If you insist on continuing this vigil tomorrow, bring an armchair. At least look comfortable while you fail to make a decision."
"Get out of my sight, Enzo."
"Rest well, Romeo."
He disappears around the corner, and the hallway goes quiet again, quiet enough that I can hear my own pulse, quiet enough that the strip of light under her door feels like the only honest thing left in the house.
I stand there a moment longer, hand hovering near the wood, close enough to feel the faint chill radiating off it from the air conditioning. She keeps running too cold.