Page 15 of Finding Love

We don’t always get what we need, do we? Now is not the time. There might never be a time for all I know, but if the time exists, it most definitely is not right now.

I’m starting to feel a little hazy, losing my grip on myself. I welcome the sensation. It is much nicer than the agony so intense it makes me want to die.

“So that’s how we met,” I whisper. “I was wondering.” I must’ve known who he was, right? Why would I have walked into his club? I don’t party. I never have, always throwing myself into work. I must have been there to investigate him. Either I’m on an undercover assignment, or I was no stronger against the pull he has on me than I am now. Eventually, I succumbed.

I wasn’t confident enough to tell my parents, was I? Something was holding me back. Here I am, with no memory of any of it, and my parents are going to want answers. I wish I had gotten it out of the way before I was injured, but we can’t predict things like this.

“I have never, ever regretted that night or anything between us that came after.” His voice is so deep and rich, like warm honey poured over me. My body lights up, heating, and I realize my headache is gone. It may as well have never existed. All I know now is I want to curl up in his arms. I want to be held, touched, cherished.

It has to be the drugs. I need to be stronger than this. So he has his moments where he’s not a complete and total monster, even though I can’t erase the harm I’m sure he’s done. No matter how kind he can be, he is not a good person. No matter how piercing his eyes are, the way his muscles clench under his tight shirt, or how much my body wants his.

It’s not the washcloth touching my skin anymore. It’s the back of his fingers, his knuckles grazing my cheek where bruises are finally healing. “Sleep. You need sleep more than anything. We both do, I think.” I wish he’d keep talking. His voice is like a sonata carrying me on one gentle note after another.

Before long, the sound fades away like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel. I want to ask if he’s going to sleep, too, but there’s no time before true darkness closes in around me and wipes everything away.

7

LUCA

The mood around the room is fucking grim as my father finishes a phone call from my cousin, Francesco. “We’ll have to make an appearance at the funeral,” he tells Cesco, who went to the hospital to check on Paul’s condition. The doctors were supposed to test him today to see whether he had brain function. Suffice it to say he no longer does, and any organs that can be used will be harvested and donated.

“I don’t know if anyone from the family would be welcome there.” Cesco’s voice is tight, strained. “After his mother fainted and came to, she screamed a lot about how it was all the family’s fault. How she never wanted him to get involved the way his old man was and how she knew he would end up dead before he was twenty-six like her husband did.”

“Jesus Christ.” Papa closes his eyes, and a look of pain touches his weathered face. “So much for having a long history with somebody.”

“It’s to be expected,” Dante muses, pacing back and forth in front of Papa’s desk. “She’s emotional. She just found out her only son is dead. She’s hurting. Nobody told him to pull a gun.” I can’t tell whether he believes that or if he’s trying to reassure Papa he’s not responsible for a kid’s death. And Paul wasn’t the only one.

“I’ll be heading back soon,” Cesco concludes.

“Nobody can say we abandoned the kid in his final moments,” Papa reminds us after ending the call. He sounds sad but resolute. “Let’s settle up the bill with the hospital. Whatever she thinks about the family, she shouldn’t have to pay it. The kid wasn’t even old enough to be married or have a family, was he?”

Nothing can be said about that, so we remain silent, the three of us lost in our heads. However, my mind is only focused on one thing these days.

Falling asleep next to Emilia yesterday was exactly what I needed. Fully clothed except for my shoes, on top of the covers, I slept like the dead for a solid seven hours and woke up groggy and confused in the middle of the afternoon. Emilia kept sleeping, and I was glad to let her do it. I brought her soup and fresh bread, which she ate in bed while I distracted myself with the television in the living room.

Yes, I wanted to be with her. Yes, it fucking killed me to give her the space she needs. But it felt like a step in the right direction, and it gives me hope that we’ll pull out of this together. The fact that she was able to fall asleep with me in bed alongside her is another minor miracle. She’s coming around—slowly, yes, but it’s happening. There’s no stopping it. She’s going to remember she is mine if it fucking kills me.

And when she does, I intend to spend days celebrating that, preferably in bed.

We break for lunch after discussing business that, for once, has nothing to do with the name Vitali. It’s easy to lose sight of what remains to be done to keep the family running. I’ve always had difficulty focusing on things that don’t interest me—probably one of the main reasons why my brother would be better suited to run the family, besides the fact he’s the older son. There’s never been a challenge like the one I’m up against now when nothing in the world is as critical to my existence as my love.

Dante rambles on about shipments while I wonder about Emilia. Is she well today? Guilia was supposed to take breakfast down to her this morning to check in on her. I’ve been with Papa all morning and haven’t gotten a report yet. I suppose if there were an emergency, I would’ve heard about it by now. However, that does nothing to ease my worries.

By the time my brother is finished, I’m already beyond the point of losing my patience. I’m going to go down and see her. I need to know for myself that she’s okay. We’re breaking for lunch, anyway, before I have to sit down with the club’s books for a while.

I’m barely a dozen strides from the office when somebody calls out my name. “Luca! Where are you headed?” I turn to my sister’s voice and find her grinning like a Cheshire cat as she approaches on mile-high heels that click against the floor with every step.

“Where do you think?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. She looks bright and cheerful in a furry miniskirt and somehow manages to walk without breaking her neck. “I should ask you that question. Where do you think you’re going in that get-up?” I ask, folding my arms, temporarily distracted.

She rolls her heavily made-up eyes. “What difference does it make? I’m only wearing it around here since there’s nowhere to go.” She looks down at herself and sighs softly. “I mean, I’m wasting all this on you people.”

“What’s the alternative?” I only purse my lips disapprovingly because I know it gets under her skin. “Driving some poor bastard out of his mind? Teasing every man who lays eyes on you?”

“Oh God, would you shut up?” She hisses while her cheeks color. “That’s just exactly the kind of thing I don’t need Papa to hear, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m just saying. Don’t let him catch you like that, no matter whether you’re staying around the house or not.” Guilia has long been one of the few patches of brightness in our lives. She’s the only girl and spoiled to hell and back, but she is a good kid with a beautiful heart. All the more reason to distrust every man on Earth since I know all too well how men think.

I’m about to walk away when she stops me, scurrying in front of me and placing her hands against my chest. “Hold on. There’s a surprise for you.”

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