Chapter Four

Luca

I stood at the window of my bedroom, staring out at the manicured grounds bathed in the soft light of dawn. Sleep had been elusive, my thoughts consumed by Adriana, the woman I had taken prisoner. She had crossed my family and harbored a vendetta against my father, Carmine. By all rights, I should have had her killed immediately. But something about the look in her eyes when she realized her mistake held me back, and I found I now wanted to keep her for myself. For how long and for what exact purpose, I didn’t know. Obviously, I couldn’t trust the woman, but something kept me from informing my father about her. Was I simply curious? Or was there more to it than that?

She was gorgeous, there wasn’t any question about that. I smiled remembering how, after I pulled her into my lap, her long brown curls had knotted themselves into a mess. She hadn’t even seemed to notice, unlike the other women who worked at the club who gave their appearance more attention than their souls. Conversely, Adriana’s hair as well as her spirit, were not only left free and unfettered, but were defiantly so. I’d never met anyone like Adriana Grimaldi. Or more accurately, Adriana Gorga. Her guts, her resilience, plus her devotion to her father intrigued me. Her love for him was something foreign to me. I had certainly never felt that way about my own father. All I had ever felt for Carmine Capuzzo was fear and a sense of duty. I was raised to be loyal to him, nothing more.

I fingered the velvet draperies as the image of my pretty mother came to mind. I’d always thought she’d seemed afraid of Carmine. She told me once that their marriage had been an arrangement to end a feud between their families. I remembered walking in on her and my father’s brother, my uncle Joseph, kissing once. After that, I never saw them again and was told they died in a car crash. Even as a child, I had wondered if my father had arranged their deaths. Carmine was capable of anything.

The memory of that day lingered in my mind. I was eight years old, playing with my toys in the hallway when I heard muffled voices behind the closed door of my parents' bedroom. Curious, I crept closer and peered through the small crack in the door. There she was, my mother, locked in a passionate embrace with my uncle. Shock and confusion had paralyzed me. I had stood there, watching, until they noticed me and hastily pulled apart. My mother had tears in her eyes, and my uncle looked terrified. They tried to explain, to comfort me, but I ran away instead. Two weeks later, they were dead.

Turning away from the window, I summoned my household butler, Alfonso. The older, silver-haired man entered the room quietly, his expression neutral as always.

"Good morning, sir. How may I assist you?" Alfonso asked.

"I need you to go shopping, Alfonso. There are some women's things in the suite where I put Adriana, but they are old and left over from previous…guests. I want you to buy new clothes for her. And tell the Cook to prepare a lavish breakfast for us. Have Adriana brought to me in the dining room when the food is ready."

Alfonso nodded, his lined face betraying no surprise at the unusual request. "Of course, sir. I will see to it immediately."

As Alfonso left, a sense of unease settled over me. I wasn't sure why I was going to such lengths for Adriana. She was my prisoner, after all. But something about her drew me in, made me want to know more. I was anxious to see her again.

When I entered the dining room, I saw that the Cook had outdone herself. The table was covered with dishes of exquisite food: golden-brown potatoes, fluffy quiche, glazed ham, an array of fresh fruits, warm rolls, and delicate pastries. There were steaming pots of coffee, an assortment of juices, and a selection of teas.

Adriana was already seated, wearing a pair of loose sweats that were a couple of sizes too big for her. I was surprised by how tiny she really was, how vulnerable. Despite the feast laid out before her, the plate in front of her was empty. She sat straight-backed and motionless, with her hands folded in her lap. I suspected in reality she was likely starving, and I wondered at her resistance to eat.

"Why aren't you eating?" I asked, sitting down across from her. "You need to eat to keep up your strength."

Adriana looked at me, her wide brown eyes defiant. "Why should I eat when you're keeping me here against my will? What are you going to do with me?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop asking questions? You don’t take orders very well, do you?”

She smiled. “Not from people I don’t owe my allegiance.”

I slammed my hand on the table, making the utensils jump.

“You should obey me, if you know what’s good for you.”

A cackle escaped her throat. “Only if I am forced.”

I growled in rage, pushing back my chair and going over to stand in front of her, tempted to slap her across the face for her impudence. Or lift her into my arms and kiss her so hard she’d forget how much she hated me.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, fear flitting across her beautiful face. My anger extinguished at once, and I took a deep breath, returning to my seat. I placed my napkin across my lap slowly.

“I haven't decided yet,” I admitted. “I'm curious about you. Tell me more about this love you feel for your father. Why would you want to end your own life for vengeance on a dead man?"

Adriana's expression softened. "Giuseppe may not have done things right all the time, but he loved my mother and me unconditionally. My mother died of cancer when I was nine years old. She was the love of his life, and after she died, he was never the same."

I felt a pang of empathy. "You are lucky that your parents cared for each other so deeply. There was no love between my parents. Their marriage was arranged. I always wished for siblings to be honest, but I never had any. My mother was a good woman. I still miss her. She and my uncle died in a car crash when I was young. I often wonder if my father had anything to do their deaths."

Adriana looked at me. “And you believe that’s a possibility?”

I laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “I have reason to believe so.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied quietly.

“Coffee?” I asked, holding up the carafe.

She shook her head.

I sighed and poured some of the steaming liquid into my own cup, then added a bit of cream.

"Did your father's death mean that much to you that you have no more reason to live yourself?" I asked, stirring the hot beverage with my spoon. The small utensil clinked against the china prettily.

She shook her head. "I'm all alone now that my father is dead. I don't see any point in living, other than to avenge his murder. That thought is what has kept me going these past four years."

A knot tightened in my stomach. What she didn’t know was that I had been there that night. My father had brought me to serve as the lookout when they went to collect from Giuseppe. I remembered the sound of the gunshot, telling me that he’d failed to make good on his payment. Guilt washed over me now. I had never known the type of true love and devotion Adriana felt for her father.

All I had ever known was the mafia—the business. But Adriana was different. She was driven by her heart and a desire for justice, even if it was misguided. I found myself drawn to her in ways I had never known.

I summoned Alfonso to the room. "Are you going to eat?" I asked Adriana.

She shook her head. "No."

“Fine. Alfonso, kindly escort her back to her quarters," I ordered.

I watched as the butler led her out of the dining room. She kept her head held high, regal as a queen.

Alone in the dining room, I was conflicted. I found myself caring about Adriana's welfare. I wanted her to live. I realized I wasn't scared of my father as I once used to be. I wasn't a child anymore. I was capable, smart, and powerful in my own right.

As I sat there, my thoughts racing, I made a decision. I wouldn't tell Carmine about Adriana. And I wouldn't kill her. Instead, I was going to help her escape.

I remained at the table, even though I had lost my appetite. I was lost in my thoughts. I had always believed my loyalty to my father was unshakable. But now, I was beginning to question everything I had ever known. Adriana had awakened something in me, something I couldn't ignore.

As the morning light filtered into the room, I knew my life was about to change. I had no idea what the future held, but I was determined to find out. For the first time in my life, I was making a choice for myself, not out of fear or duty, but out of a genuine desire to do what I felt was right.

And that choice was Adriana.

The hours that followed were a blur of conflicting emotions and memories. I found myself replaying the events of my childhood, searching for moments of clarity amidst the chaos. My mother had been a gentle soul, always quick with a smile, but there was a sadness in her eyes that I hadn't understood until I was older. Her laughter, once a constant presence in our home, had faded over time, replaced by a tense silence whenever my father was around.

I remembered one night in particular. I had been about five or six years old, lying in bed and listening to the hushed argument between my parents in the next room. My mother had been crying, her voice pleading with my father for something I couldn't quite make out. Carmine's voice had been cold, unyielding. That was the night I realized that fear was the foundation of our family, not love.

As I grew older, I learned to navigate the treacherous waters of our household. I became adept at reading my father's moods, knowing when to stay out of his way and when to seek his approval. My loyalty was not born out of love, but out of survival. Carmine was a force of nature, the leader of our organization and the Capuzzo family, and defying him was unthinkable.

But now, with Adriana, I was beginning to see things differently. Her defiance, born out of her unwavering love for her father, stirred something in me. She was willing to sacrifice everything for the memory of a man who had loved her unconditionally. It was a love I had never known, but one I couldn't help but admire. She was a child of love, and despite her protestations, her heart still bled from being so full of it. I wondered what it would feel like to be the recipient.

As the day wore on, I found myself drawn back to the suite where Adriana was being held. I needed to see her, to understand what it was about her that made me question everything I had ever believed. When I entered the room, she was sitting by the window, staring out at the garden. She turned to look at me, her expression unreadable.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I wanted to talk to you. To understand."

"Understand what?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

"Everything," I replied, moving to sit across from her. We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of our shared pain hanging between us. I had never opened myself up to anyone like this before, and it felt strangely liberating.

"Do you really think killing my father will bring you peace?" I asked finally.

She looked away, her expression pained. "I don't know. But it's the only thing I have left. The only thing that keeps me going."

I reached out, gently taking her hand in mine and turning it over, palm up. I traced the lifeline with my fingertip. "There has to be more to life than vengeance. You are good, Adriana. Forgo this quest you are on before it is too late. You deserve a chance to find happiness, to live without this burden."

Adriana looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair. "And what about you, Luca? What do you want?"

I lifted her palm to my lips, not breaking eye contact, and planted a soft kiss inside.

“To help you.”