Page 30 of Luca

“I don’t suppose I do.”

“I know what you think of me, Luca. I’m just some little Mafia princess who doesn’t have a brain or thoughts of her own. That I’m oblivious to what my father and brother do. Or that I don’t care because it keeps me in expensive clothes or some shit.”

“Whoa,” I say, holding my hands up in mock surrender. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. That’s what all the men in my father’s organization probably think about me. Little Giada does everything she’s told. Smiles when she needs to, is only good for marrying whoever her father picks out for her so he can have more power, and having little Mafia babies who’ll grow up in the same life doing the same thing.”

“I’ve never been under any misconception that you’re one to do as you’re told, Giada. If you recall, I used to catch you sneaking out of your room in the middle of the night to go to parties. And I believe it was just last night you made me go to a horrible fucking club with you so you could do God knows what with God knows who. That doesn’t scream submissive little princess to me.”

“Yeah, that club was pretty bad, huh?”

“Are you kidding? It was terrible. Why the hell did you want to go to a place like that to begin with?”

“Truth?” There’s a slight wince on her face.

“Always,” I reply.

She groans and takes another sip of her drink, nearly swallowing the entire contents of her glass. “I wanted to piss you off.”

My head tilts to the side, staring at her as she chews her bottom lip. Something I’ve noticed she does when she’s nervous.

“It’s so fucking dumb, Luca. Especially considering the last twelve hours. I was pissed my dad said I needed a full-time bodyguard, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled it was you.”

“Why?”

She looks down into her empty glass and mutters, “I can’t believe you’re going to make me say it.” Her eyes meet mine and she holds my stare. I don’t know if the alcohol she just consumed in less than five minutes is giving her courage—not that she needs any around me—but she speaks in a clear and sure voice. “You had to have known I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager. Well, seeing you again, I don’t know; I guess I went back there in my mind and remembered the last day I saw you.” She shakes her head, remembering the morning in the hallway when I was told I was moving on to Alberto’s crew. “I was so worried we’d been caught and you were going to get fired or something.” I don’t bother telling her that if I’d been caught sneaking her back into the estate, my “firing” would likely have left me with a bullet hole. “Anyways, I heard you talking with Alberto and my father and realized you were going to work for him. I knew what he did and it pissed me off that you turned out to be like every other man in this business.” Giada looks at her glass then me. “I need another drink.”

I sit still, stunned at her admission. Not that I didn’t suspect that was the reason for her behavior last night, just that she’s admitting it now.

“Same thing?” I ask, nodding toward her glass.

“Maybe make this one a double.”

Two hours later, Giada isn’t feeling any of the sadness or hurt she walked in here with. Her hips sway back and forth in front of the jukebox as she feeds more money into the machine. I have to say, I’m impressed with her musical tastes. They range from old country to some ear-splitting pop hits mixed with a lot of songs from the sixties and seventies. Ordering another drink from Jay, our unimpressed bartender, I ask him to make this one heavy on the juice and light on the vodka.

I sit back down at the booth and Giada dances her way back to the table, picking up the refilled glass and taking a sip.

“My mom used to love dancing to this song.” It’s one of the older ones I appreciate much more than the newer shit she was playing. “She used to dance around the kitchen while she baked bread or was making homemade pasta. She’d twirl me around and we’d sing and sing.” Giada’s smile is bright as she’s caught up in the memory of being a little girl with a loving mother. Something I never had.

“Before she died, she enrolled me in dance classes. It was obviously different from our kitchen dancing, but I loved it.”

“I don’t remember you dancing when I came to the house.”

“I’d quit by then in a fit of bratty teenage rebellion.”

I give her a flat look.

“Hey.” She points an unsteady finger at me. “I know what that look means.”

“I think we’ve established that you actually can’t read my mind.”

Giada laughs, but I’m not sure what she’s finding so funny.

“You’re not like I thought, Luca Bennetti, I’ll give you that.”

I tilt my head to the side, a question in my eyes.

“I mean, how many other bodyguards would be here with me while I drink my problems away in the middle of the afternoon? If it were anyone else, they’d have called my brother, and he would’ve come storming in here and dragged me out for being an embarrassment to the family or some shit. Like I’m the one who’s the embarrassment.”

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