Luca (I Love the Way You Lie #1) (15 page)

Paulie made the sign of the cross.

“I know, Pop. I want to run businesses—corporations. I have a specific interest in that,” I said evenly. I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding. “
Legitimate
businesses”

He crossed his leg over his knee, sitting further back in his chair. “So you’ll run a corporation.”

Paulie nodded his agreement.

“Just like that?” I asked, scrutinizing his words. He had meanings behind meanings.

He leaned forward, uncrossing his legs. “Just like that,” he said smoothly. Archer almost burst out of his chair. “Archer, and I have…” Gino sat back, a brow arched, pulling a cigar from his suit jacket.

Gino lit the cigar blowing out a thick plume of smoke. “You and Archer are leaving with us now. You can tell me all about what the two of you have discussed.”

It hit me all at once. Allison. “I can’t leave now.” I stood up.

“You most certainly can. And you are. It’s all taken care of. I’ve had enough of this. You, my only son…here.” His tone was deadly calm, all power. He took his cigar out of his mouth. “I know this is about the girl, no?” His eyes begged me to disagree.

I knew if I lied, it wouldn’t make a fucking difference. I was leaving today whether I wanted to or not. My lighter flicked over my finger. I paced. Archer sat perfectly still. Thank fuck for that.

Paulie walked over to where I was now standing. I was rubbing the ache in my chest. He heaved his heavy arm across my shoulders and in a tone that was almost a whisper, he said, “D, it’s time to grow up. You want the girl?” he asked, nodding. “What can you offer her here…leaving like this?” He slapped my face lovingly. “Stugots, that’s what.” He pinched his fingers together in the way of Italians. “Be the man I know you are. The one she’ll need.” His tone was friendly; however, there was no room for disagreement. His words carried weight in truth. He was right.

I lit a cigarette. Normally, I didn’t smoke in front of him. Fuck it. “I need some time to pack and shit.”

He just nodded, not bothering to look up from his phone.
Probably playing poker
, I thought. “Take thirty.” And there it was. Demand. His incessant need to control all things. My finger twitched the wheel of my lighter. Flick. Flick. Flick. “Christ, enough with the lighter. I’m trying to concentrate here.”

Archer jumped out of his chair. “I’ll pack your shit up. You go say your goodbyes.” His voice was full of sympathy. Time wasn’t on my side. I agreed.

Now, to go find Allison.

~~~

I looked everywhere I could think of. She was nowhere to be found.
Where the fuck was she
?

I wanted to scream in frustration. The minutes were ticking like a time-bomb. The cunt, Sarah, rounded the corner. Fucking great. I didn’t have time for her games, her fake-ass smile, or the pout of her lips.

She coiffed her hair quickly. “Hey,” she said, batting her lashes.
Plastic-Barbie-bitch
, I thought.

“Don’t have time for your games.” I walked past her, not bothering to answer her greeting. I had to hurry and find Allison.

“If you’re looking for Allison”—I stopped—”Try Ollie’s room.” The saccharine in her voice was blatant.

I turned, staring at her. The tension rolled through me like a freight train. She didn’t dare make eye contact with me. Her little tidbit of information was made to shock. I tried my hardest not to react, not giving her the satisfaction she so desperately wanted.

A flick of my lighter brought forth a blue flame. I held it up to her face. “You’re desperate to play with fire, little girl. Wouldn’t it be a shame if I melted that pretty little face off?”

She ran from me without a look back. “You’re a fucking crazy fuck.”

You got that right
. Now, to deal with this prick motherfucker. I pushed the elevator button. The wait almost burned me to ashes.
Come on. Come on
. Fuck this. I took the adjacent stairs two at a time. A deadly calm came over me. I had to reel myself in. My emotions were threatening to consume me. Just three more doors to go. I slowed. My heart raced, the wheel of my lighter dug into my palm. His door was open a crack—surely a good sign. I held my breath as I peeked in.

They sat on his bed, inches away from one another, his guitar across his lap. His eyes were trained on her face. “You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, stoking her face intimately.

She blushed, pulling away.
Was she flattered by this
?
Did she have feelings for him?
My stomach rolled once…twice. I thought I was going to puke. It was
my
hand that brought her pleasure.
My
tongue coaxed her orgasm.
My
fingers pinched her sweet nub.
I
was the one that made
her
blush. She was
mine
. I owned her as much as she owned me. The way he looked at her as if she delighted him in the most profound ways—it was torture to see.

I moved my hand over my heart, desperate to ease the ache. The gash in my heart was gaping open—bleeding. I never wanted to kill someone as much as I wanted to kill Sven at this moment. The thought of him touching her—fucking her—took my breath away. I was a hairsbreadth from torching this whole place down in a massive ball of fire. My eyes closed, trying to squeeze some of the pain away.

When I reopened them, I leaned into the doorway, my hand on the doorknob. I wasn’t leaving without a fight. A fight for her. The words were halfway out of my mouth when a familiar hand squeezed my shoulder.
Archer
.

“What are you going to do? Kill him for singing her a song? For liking her? She’s a beautiful girl, Luca.” He looked in over my shoulder.

“Yes.” My voice was barely human. I blocked Archer’s view. I didn’t want him here—now.

“This is me, keeping my promise to you. Leave it for now. I’m begging you.” Archer’s grip was now around my shoulders, pulling me away from the door. My father and Paulie were now walking toward us. “You don’t want your old-man involved. Come on.”

I turned but didn’t walk away. My body was rioting to claim what was mine. Put an end to that boy-band-poser-fuck once and for all. However, with my father here, it wouldn’t help my cause.

“Have you said your goodbyes?” My father’s voice was mocking.

The red haze that now colored my sight burned. “Yes,” I lied, almost grunting in agony. I felt wounded—the gasoline now filled my veins. She was the match that threatened to destroy me. There would be no protecting him from me. How could I have been so wrong about her—Allison. Her name seared my fresh wound. Pain spread through me. I didn’t know how I kept walking. Betrayal, karma’s bitch of a sister just fucked me hard. Worn raw, the wheels of retribution swept through me…

Living with his ghost
7 years later

It was the day of my twenty-fourth birthday.

I should’ve been happy, but my past still haunted me. Every thought was a battle, every breath was a war, and I didn’t think I was winning anymore. I woke up with a gasp. My eyelids were heavy from tears. It had been several years. And yet…for my heart, it felt like yesterday. My world would forever be painted in monochromatic grays. Light existed in tiny reflective rays along the edges of my life.
Would I ever see colors again? His haunting green eyes? Would I ever see him again?
I wondered. I ran after the yellow taillights, screaming his name. The car never stopped. He left me. Now, my world without him was dark—empty. If it wasn’t for my support system, and the women I now educate on abuse, I don’t know how I would have survived it. We as humans break easily. After graduation, I secured my first job. When I had enough money, I moved into a one bedroom apartment in Chelsea, NYC. I adored New York and the mad, passionate people that occupied it. It was a melting pot of vibrancy, ambition, and eclectic charm. My tiny apartment favored my bohemian style. I decided the massive walk-in closet was the highlight of the place. It needed to be filled and I found the perfect boutiques, quickly becoming addicted to shopping.

Earth-toned embroidered rugs covered my bare floors. A few hanging plants provided a nice touch of greenery; however, I had a tough time keeping them alive. A few artsy pieces of furniture completed my space. Thick beige curtains hung over the outsized windows. I decided the lack of sunlight was probably not helpful for growing plants. However, the light equaled happiness, and I was anything but happy. I was able to see one dream, though.

I became a therapist to help people who were hurting. I wanted to solve problems, give answers, and make things better—to take their pain away. It didn’t take me long to realize that this wasn’t possible. I was a shining example of that. My job was not about fixing, but about guiding, supporting, and listening. This was my purpose. So, instead of lifeless and suffocating, it was manageable. The irony that I was just as broken, if not more, was not lost on me.
There’s a crack in everything, that’s how light gets in,
I thought. I preached that mantra. I was so busy giving advice and not taking my own.

The doorbell rang twice. Who could it be? I grabbed my silk robe from behind the bathroom quickly and then headed for the door. With my eye flush with the peephole, I noticed a dimpled, round-faced college kid holding a bow-tied vase of flowers with balloons. I managed a small smile and opened the door. The delivery boy smirked, taking in my robe. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. He muttered, “sorry.” I signed for the flowers and tipped him before shutting the door. It was a beautiful arrangement of two-dozen red roses. The card read…

Happy 24
^th
sweetheart
.

I’ll be in town next week. We’ll celebrate…

Always,

Ollie

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. He never forgot an occasion. After Luca left, taking my heart with him, Oliver became my lifeline. Sure, I knew he wanted more. However, he never pushed. I was selfish and co-dependent. However, the comfort and security he gave, I…needed. Part of my therapy was allowing myself to lean on others.

I set the vase on the nightstand next to my bed. The fragrance permeated the air. I refused my morning ritual of self-doubt…followed by a healthy heaping of
what if?
While getting dressed, I tried to list the positives and good fortune in my life.

1) Graduated and employed

2) My own apartment

3) Best friend/suite-mate from college works with me

4) Oliver Sven

5) Health—I rarely get sick. That’s a positive

6) Limited amount of time spent with parents.

7) Career driven

8) Christmas club savings account

I decided to skip breakfast in lieu of a large black coffee from Mean-Bean instead. With my phone in hand, I checked my email, never looking up, which led to me now being covered in scalding hot coffee. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” I frowned, grabbing napkins quickly.
Fucking hell.

The handsome man was smiling. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m always rushing around. I’ll send you the cleaning bill.” He quirked an eyebrow, letting his words permeate.

“Yes, of course.” I nodded, handing him a stack of napkins. Embarrassment heated my cheeks. His tattoo-covered hands grabbed the napkins. I couldn’t help but stare at his attire. The tats were juxtaposing to the grey tailored suit he was wearing. He had dark brown hair, long enough to touch his white collared shirt, and black eyes that trained on my every moment.
Were they black?
I wondered. A thick, equally coiffed, five o’clock shadow enhanced his look.
Gay or
Metro-sexual
, I thought. Way too good looking for his own good. I bit the inside of my cheek.