Page 29 of Deadly Vows

I didn’t think Luca could make me hurt emotionally. His words and opinions don’t matter. But those words cut deep, forcing me to look at the life I left behind. He is right. My father never had any love for me. My father’s death was confusing because it was Luca who dealt it out, but even in his final moments, my father never expressed affection to me. Only disappointment that my marriage ruined his plans. Luca and his father, though I despise them, had a deeper connection. His father loved his son. They conversed about things other than the business. They embraced upon greeting. And Luca’s father rarely missed an opportunity to express his pride. He was a boisterous man, his favorite accomplishment being his son.

My breath catches in my throat, forcing me to realize I am crying in the middle of the wake. I hastily wipe my tears, looking around the room for a familiar face. Romelo, Luca’s right hand, is standing near the door, his cold eyes watching the room intently as I approach.

“Tell my husband I went home,” I say.

I hear Romelo calling to me as I make my way out of the house, but I ignore him. I can only think of getting away as my chest brings on emotions that I thought I had stored deep down. But Luca’s words have forced me to face the new reality.

It’s just Luca and me now. And we both don’t know how to cope with that.

I don’t know what I expected from Luca after leaving without permission. But he hasn’t returned home, giving me plenty of time to consider my future. As I walk around my home, I see now more than ever how impersonal it is. Sure, I chose the furniture and colors of the walls, but the portraits that hang are only fromour wedding day. Luca and I have no fond memories together. Our marriage has been holding on by a thread, that thread being Lorenzo Pasquino. Now that he’s dead, there’s no clear vision for our future.

Luca can’t even stand the sight of me.

I silently make my way into Luca’s office. It looks much less intimidating without him in it. I shift my attention to the cushions. They look innocent by themselves. No one would know Luca held me down to watch as he played with a man’s life. You wouldn’t know Luca made me sit in the corner with my violin, playing as people breathed their last breaths. And you definitely wouldn’t know the number of times Luca took me against that desk. This office is so grand, and yet it holds so much trauma.

I chuckle aloud to myself.

It never crossed my mind to think about how incompatible Luca and I are. And now that both of our fathers are out of the picture, what’s keeping me here? What’s forcing me to ensure this marriage works? It’s been evident from the first week that it’s just waiting to implode on itself. And if Luca’s words today aren’t proof enough of that imminent implosion, then I don’t know what else is. As I look out the window of Luca’s office, my mind wanders to places it’s been trained not to. Why should I have to take the things that I do from Luca? What has he done for me other than cause pain and strife in my life? And now that our parents are dead and relations between our families are once again strained, why should we remain together? So I can be a sitting duck when Luca finally decides to rid himself of me?

No. No more.

I walk around Luca’s desk, but the drawer is locked, making me laugh. He doesn’t trust me—he never did. That much is obvious. But I am a patient woman. I am patient enough to plan a future apart from this one—a future without Luca Pasquino.

The sound of the door closing pulls my attention, and I quickly make my way out of Luca’s office. I hear him moving around in the kitchen, and I attempt to tiptoe past the arch leading into the kitchen quietly. As I pass, I pause to see him sitting at the bar with a glass of whiskey. He’s facing slightly away from me with his head in his hands, his shirt messily unbuttoned as he sits silently at the bar. I continue to watch him, my eyes widening when his shoulders tremble slightly, followed by a soft sob.

He’s crying.

The world seems to fall away as I watch him, alone and vulnerable, crying over the death of his father. He looks small, the walls he built up to protect himself are nonexistent as he releases his emotions where he feels he is alone. I take a small step back, not wanting to pull his attention. I fight with myself not to walk in there and share in his grief. That isn’t my role any longer. I am not going to play the part of his wife. He clearly let me know how he felt about that today. And I won’t be around when he decides he no longer wants me in that role.

I want my freedom. And no amount of tears that Luca Pasquino sheds will change that.

Chapter Thirteen

Luca

I have changed. I know I have. I’ve grown distant, distrustful, and stoic. But to survive in our world, that’s how you must be. Since the death of my father, smiles are rare for me, laughter is non-existent, and the world seems colder. Elise and I have grown apart, and I know I am to blame. My words to her at my father’s funeral were fueled by grief. I never should have said that to her, even if it was true. I swore to myself the day I decided to go through with our marriage that I would protect her from anyone who wished to do her harm. I swore to see her no longer as a Trovoli but as my wife. Unfortunately, the issues that came with our marriage made it difficult, primarily when the Trovolis were the cause of them.

Still, it’s no excuse. Regardless of my mental state, she has remained by my side, playing the part of my wife perfectly. The day I was sworn in by blood oath as the new head of the family must have been difficult for her. Still, she remained steadfast in the face of the people who hate her most in the world.

The conductor speaks, pulling my attention as Elise rises from her seat to take center stage. I’ve always enjoyed the arts, more so now that my wife is so talented in them. She stands timidly in her red gown, pulling her violin to her chin while waiting for the conductor to begin the song. I’ve heard her rehearsing this piece at home a few times. It doesn’t compare to seeing her on stage, performing for the eyes of strangers. Everyone here is in awe of her talent as her fingers glide swiftly over the instrument, eliciting spellbinding music.

I feel a sense of awe overcome me as I study her. Her hair has grown in the past month since I cut it. It’s long enough for her to pull into an updo that leaves two strands in the front to tickle her shoulders. I realize I prefer her hair short. She’s such a timid woman that she hid behind her hair when it was long enough. But now she’s forced to let the world see her beautiful features. Her thick lashes fan her cheeks as her eyes lower, and she becomes consumed by the music she is playing. She’s passionate about her music. It’s one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place.

I recall vividly the day my father told me about the marriage:

“Luca, as you know, with the power of the Pasquinos comes the danger of our lifestyle. I’ve left the burden of finding a bride to you in hopes you would do so with the urgency of our future in mind, but I’ve decided to go ahead and choose your bride myself.”

I scoff, leaning back in my seat as I take in my father’s words. Arrangements are no surprise in our world. I was shocked when my father floated the idea of me finding a bride on my own. It takes a load off my back that he went ahead and did what needed to be done. I had no interest in vetting a bride. And he’s finally realized that.

“Eli Trovoli has offered his daughter as a prospect. And after careful consideration, I think she would make a lovely wife for you,” he says.

I narrow my eyes, trying to control my anger. The Trovolis are a family of conniving cowards who do whatever it takes to scrounge more power. Their way of life is one filled with the lowest of the low, pretending they’re anything more than common criminals. My father and I are well aware of the lengths Eli would go to for more power, which is why it makes no sense to me why he would agree to it.

I chuckle aloud, shaking my head as I look at my father.

“You’re not about to tie me down with the blood of that bastard,” I say.

“Luca—”

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