Page 28 of Flawed

It's crazy for me to be having these thoughts. All I've done is obsess over getting revenge on the Abruzzos and killing Jacopo. He brutally murdered my papà when I was only seven, making my mamma and I watch. She never recovered, living her remaining days depressed until she committed suicide several years later.

I spent my remaining childhood determined to mete out justice to Jacopo and every Abruzzo I could. When I got to the States, Angelo agreed to let me go undercover. It took me weeks to convince him, with tons of lectures on what I was giving up for my life and the promise that when I was ready to step away, I could.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Chanel asks, tearing me out of memories I try not to revisit.

I put the spoon in the skillet and both hands on the counter near her hips. She deeply inhales as I lean closer, stopping an inch from her lips. I hesitate then do something I've never done with a woman. I put my cards on the table, confessing, "You make me want to change everything in my life."

Her greens widen. She quietly questions, "Why?"

I expected her to ask what I'm referring to, not that I would share the details. She can't know anything about the Abruzzos. Eventually, I suppose I'd have to tell her, but right now, she needs to stay innocent. Asking me why only adds to my intrigue about her. I surprise myself when I don't analyze and truthfully answer, "Because you make me want to be the man you deserve."

She takes several short breaths, opens her mouth, closes it, then studies me further.

My stomach flips. I force myself to stay quiet, wanting to know what she's thinking. Her expression isn't one I can interpret, but it's almost as if she knows things about me. Mixed into that is something else, and I can't help interpreting it as hope.

Does she somehow know more about me than I think?

Does she want me to be a better man for her?

But she can't know more. I've never spoken to her about what I do, and there's no way anyone not in my world would know about me. I live under the radar.

She finally asks, "What does that mean, Luca? What kind of man are you?"

I debate how to answer her. It's a loaded question, but it's my fault for making that type of statement. There are so many things I'd love to admit to her so we don't have any secrets between us. But I can't. One word about the Abruzzos and I could put her in danger. Plus, she doesn't love me yet. Until she does, my truth only serves to ruin any chance we have.

"Luca?" she demands, continuing to give me that look I can't figure out.

I slide my palms over her cheeks, brushing my thumb over her lips. And for the first time ever, I wish I had chosen a different path for my life. When I was a young man, I only saw revenge and taking down the Abruzzos. I didn't think about how it would affect my personal affairs, even when Angelo warned me. All these years, I was content by myself. Now, I'm a thirty-two-year-old man who suddenly sees a future with a woman I barely know. And everything in my head screams at me that if I screw this up, I'll always regret it.

My chest tightens as I reply, "No one has ever intrigued me enough to see past what I get from them in the bedroom."

She pins her eyebrows together, quietly stating, "That doesn't answer my question, Luca."

My pulse pounds between my ears. I debate further about how to answer her without scaring her away then admit, "There are things in my life I'm not proud of... things I had to do..." I exhale, surprised at how hard this conversation is when I don't even know what I'm trying to say.

She swallows hard. The expression in her eyes reappears, as if she knows things about me. But then she interrogates, "Like what?"

"Things I won't go into," I adamantly assert.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head.

My stomach flips. "Why are you doing that?"

Green fire leaps from her gaze. She accuses, "Don't say things to me and then keep me in the dark. Either tell me the truth or say nothing!"

"I'm not lying to you," I proclaim.

She crosses her arms and glances at the ceiling, blinking hard.

"Stellina—"

"Okay, tell me what you do. And don't you dare say you're a businessman," she fires.

My mouth turns dry.Is there something she knows about me? Why is she so angry?

"I'm waiting," she snaps.

I take a step backward, stating facts but not the entire truth. "I do own businesses."

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