Chapter 43

43

Luca

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Where did that come from? Am I comparing what I feel for her to the love I have for my calling? Which I've always thought was to take the Cosa Nostra f orward... So far, I've committed my life to it, have never questioned my search for power, have never thought what I reached for was wrong. Not until she came into my life. She shook my focus. Distracted my singular intention. Displaced my attention, until I'm not sure what's important to me anymore. That is, aside from her.

"When I thought you'd been shot, everything changed." I cup her cheek. "When I thought I'd lost you, I knew my life would never be the same again. I believe in God, but it's the first time I prayed to him from my heart, on the way to you. I told him if you were unhurt, if by some miracle, you were alive and not wounded, then I'd never take what we have for granted. I promised him that I'd do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means leaving you."

"Luca," her voice emerges shaken. "I'm not sure what you're saying."

"You made it clear to me that as long as I am part of the Cosa Nostra, our future together is apart. I wish I could leave what I am behind… but it's a part of me. I wish I could walk away from the Cosa Nostra , that I could fall in line with Michael's plans to legitimize our businesses. But I'm not as optimistic as he is. You can't just leave this life of crime behind."

"You can try."

"You don't get to separate yourself from the past."

"You can make amends," she insists.

"This... The lifestyle of the Cosa Nostra is not something that you can shake off overnight."

"So, it'll take time; that's okay. You can work through it. We can work through it."

"I… I can't." I rub the back of my neck. "This isn't me, Angel. This… putting on a suit and going to an office and sitting in a conference room to discuss quarterly revenue numbers is not the life I saw for myself."

"I didn't see someone like you for myself, either. I never thought I'd be fake-married to a Mafioso and in a relationship that twists my insides in knots every time I see him, but here we are." Her chest heaves. "Also, what you just described doesn't sound much different from what you're already doing. You wear a suit now and sit in a closed room talking business with your brothers. How's the picture you described any different?"

"Because it is." I dig my fingers in my hair and tug.

"I call bullshit on this," she snaps.

I stare. "Did you just use a four-letter word?'

"It's an eight-letter word, and I'm done being polite, especially when the most colorful insults don't do justice to describing your pig-headedness."

"And now you compare me to a filthy beast?" I can't stop my lips from quirking. I can't help it. She's so cute when she's all fired up, with her golden eyes spitting sparks, her thick curly hair flowing around her like Medusa's snakes. My first impression of her had been right. She enticed me, and now she's going to turn me to stone; then she's going to shatter me, and every piece of my body will sing one name. Hers.

Cazzo! I am completely losing it. I need to find a way to walk away from her. For her safety. For my sanity.

I lower my hand to my side, then jerk my chin toward the almost full tub. "You need to get in."

"And you need to get your head out of your ass."

"My, didn't realize you were hiding such a gutter mouth, Angel."

"And I didn't know you were hiding behind the excuse of the Cosa Nostra ."

"What do you mean?"

"You covered the marks on your back put there by your abusive father with the symbol of the very land he comes from. Clearly, you're trying to make up for what he did by trying to do better, while staying in the same life that he introduced you to."

"My allegiance to the Cosa Nostra has nothing to do with my father," I growl.

"Doesn't it?" She narrows her gaze. "Isn't that why you have a chip on your shoulder about Michael being the Don? Isn't that why you wanted to be the Don? So you could control the Cosa Nostra , and hence, control your future. The very future that your father screwed up by being abusive toward you."

Anger thrums at my temples. My guts twist. I squeeze my fingers into fists at my sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, please! I don't have to be a shrink to read the signs loud and clear." She leans forward on the balls of her feet. "You hate your father. Technically, you should hate the lifestyle he introduced you to. Instead, you're panicking at the thought of walking away from the Cosa Nostra lifestyle. You embraced his way of life, hoping to undo the wrongs he did to you and to your brothers—indeed, to the entire community. You may pretend to be a hot-headed, out-of-control Capo . But really, you're an altruist."

Sweat drips down my chest. My head spins. It must be the heat which has built to sauna-like proportions in this space. Yes, that's the only reason I'm feeling lightheaded. It's nothing to do with this little spitfire who's seen through me in a few days, when my own brothers haven't understood my motivations—hell, when I haven't understood my impulses—most of my life. "You're confusing me with someone else."

She sets her jaw. "No, I am not. I see you, Luca. You're worried about losing the control you have. You're frightened that, without the power that comes with being Capo , you'll be nothing. You're scared, Luca, scared."

A hot burst of anger flares in my chest. My blood pounds through my veins. The pulse thuds at my temples, and I bend my knees, then glare into her face.

"You're calling me a coward?" I snap.

"Yes."

"You think you can say that to my face and get away with it?"

"Maybe not, but at least I tried. Which is more than I can say of you. You're willing to let go of what we have. Willing to shove aside what you feel for me?—"

I scowl.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you want to deny it, but I saw how you burst into that waiting room in the hospital. I saw how pale you were when you saw the blood on my shirt, then the relief when you found out it wasn't mine. I saw how your arms shook when you carried me from the car. You're still not over having discovered you have feelings for me, and given a chance, you'll spend your life denying it."

"You think I am pushing you away because I don't have feelings for you?"

She nods.

I laugh bitterly.

"I'm pushing you away because it's the only way I can keep you safe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She lowers her eyebrows toward the bridge of her nose.

"Exactly what I said. You think I can't acknowledge my feelings for you, when it's the exact opposite. I feel too much . Maledizioni . Can't you see, you're driving me crazy? Every time we're in the same room, I can't look away from you. And when we're not together, it's even worse. Then, I walk around like some bumbling idiot with a strange smile on my face. It's why I can't be with you. You wreck me, Angel. And I will not be the cause of something far worse happening to you. And let's face it, the chances are far worse when we're together."

"And if we're not together, will that change anything?"

"At least I can guard you without my emotions being involved."

She stares. "So, you won't be with me, but you still plan on stalking me?"

"On looking out for you, yes."

"So you can prevent your enemies from hurting me?"

"Precisely," I snap.

"Even though doing this will hurt me more?"

"At least you'll be safe," I mutter.

"Argh!" She blows out a breath. "Can't you see how flawed your logic is? It'd be much safer, for all concerned, if you made peace with your rivals, put the illegal activities of the Cosa Nostra behind you, and became the CEO of a legitimate enterprise."

She plants her hands on her hips and the action pushes out her breasts. Not that I haven't been aware she's naked, but after that initial survey of her body, I've managed to keep my eyes on her face. Kudos to me. Not that my body isn't reacting to her nearness. Not that my dick isn't throbbing and lengthening with every whiff of her scent that I draw into my lungs. Her breasts seem to swell under my gaze and her nipples extend. I'm not the only one caught between the conflicting signals of our body versus whatever discussion it is we're having. What are we talking about, anyway?

"Hey!" She snaps her fingers. "My face is up here."

"But the rest of you is naked and gorgeous, and the parts of you down there are especially luscious."

"A-n-d there he is, alphahole extraordinaire. Mister Filthy McDirty himself."

"Who?" I whip my gaze to her face. "You're talking about another man when you're with me?"

She laughs. "And you think you can walk away from me? You idiot. You can't even stand it when you think I'm speaking about another man. You really can't be so full of yourself that you can't see what's standing right in front of you."

"Oh, I see all right. Question is, what am I going to do about it?"

"You mean what are we going to do about it, right?"

We stare at each other for a second; then, as one, we move.