Page 36 of Luca

Carlo never came home the night after our argument in his office. It’s been two weeks since I’ve had word from him or seen him stomping through the house. I asked Luca to look into his disappearance, hoping like hell he was dead in a morgue somewhere, though I’m sure I would have been notified if that were the case. He left me for the first time in weeks to check in with some contacts but made sure to tell me if I see my brother or the other two goons who’ve been working with him to call him straight away.

When Luca knocks on my bedroom door a few hours later, his face is grim. “Seems your brother pissed off the Irish and an MC they work with. He’s disappeared, and either no one knows where he is, or they aren’t telling me.”

It’s not surprising to be honest. Carlo seems to think he’s untouchable even without my father standing behind him. It’s clear he hasn’t accepted that the Cataldi name doesn’t mean what it once did, and now he’s hiding under some rock like the snake he is.

“Thank you for looking into it,” I tell Luca as he stands awkwardly in my doorframe.

“Listen, Giada. If you still want to leave, I’m sure your family in Italy will take you in. This might be your chance to—”

I’m shaking my head before he can finish his sentence. “You heard him. If anyone takes me in, they’re as good as dead. My brother may be a complete asshole, but he’s never not followed through on a threat. I can’t risk it. I have to convince my father that me leaving makes sense. He can’t possibly be under the same delusion as Carlo that anyone is going to want to marry the princess of a dying family.”

Luca nods, but I can tell there’s something else he wants to say.

“What is it?” I ask.

Before he can answer, the alarm on my phone goes off, signaling it’s time for me to get my things together to go to the studio.

“Get ready for dance, I’ll wait for you downstairs.” Luca turns and walks away before answering my question.

With my father awaiting sentencing, he’s still being held downtown. I’ve been going there every week like clockwork, and every week, he refuses to see me. Three months after his sentencing and he still won’t have anything to do with me. The pitying looks from the deputies were almost too much to bear, but I kept my chin tilted high every day while I waited for them to call my name. They never did though. I’ve been iced out by my father for my entire life, but that stung just a bit more. He doesn’t have anything occupying his time. There’s no reason he couldn’t see me, except for the fact that he doesn’t deign me important enough to deal with. I’ve written him letters asking for his help with Carlo, begging him to let me go to Italy where I can start a new life without my brother’s interference.

Then, last month, all of my hopes that I could see him or get through to him were cut off at the knees when his attorney delivered a letter my father had written to me. He said there was no reason to come to the jail to try to see him. He was never going to get out of prison. My brother was in charge, and all the power my father held was now Carlo’s. If Carlo wants me to stay, then that’s what I’m to do. He basically gave my brother carte blanche and he doesn’t want to hear any of my petty concerns. He said he’s been sick and has terminal cancer and the only way he’s leaving prison is in a body bag. The organization was out of his hands and that was that.

My father told me he was dying in a letter. A fucking letter. Not even facing his mortality can make him have any sort of compassion or sympathy for his daughter. It was the fuck you I’d always expected but prayed wouldn’t come. My father has never shown any concern for me or what I want. But goddamnit, would it have killed him if, just one time, he acted like a father and not some heartless asshole who’s apparently washed his hands of me so easily?

Things between Luca and I aren’t strained, per se, but there’s been tension between us since the day in my brother’s office. My brother was in too much of a rage to notice the look in Luca’s eyes, but I did. He looked three seconds away from pulling his gun and shooting Carlo between the eyes. There’s no doubt in my mind that Luca is aware my brother struck me that day. That’s not uncommon in this life or in this house. Something shifted between Luca and me. Something I’m not even sure he’s aware of or can put a finger on, but we’ve fallen into a routine these last few months. It’s so different from when I came home from Italy and wanted to make his life hell for the fact he was appointed my bodyguard. At the time, I wanted nothing to do with him, but now I can’t imagine being stuck in this house with anyone other than him. When he found me the day I got the letter from my father, sitting at the edge of the pool, he sat right next to me. He never tried to comfort me, didn’t give me empty platitudes. He simply stayed next to me while I cried, when I raged, and when I was silent in utter numbness. He was exactly what I needed without having to ask.

There’ve been so many times I’ve considered sneaking out with nothing but the clothes on my back and finding a way to get the hell away from this house, from this life. I’ve thought about Luca’s offer to get me to Italy, but Carlo’s threats still play over and over in my mind. If anyone helps me, they’re as good as dead, and I can’t live with that on my conscience. Hell, if Carlo found me, who knows if he would let me live at all?

I feel truly defeated for the first time in my entire life. There’s no one I can turn to that can help me out of this mess, not unless I want to worry about whether Carlo is going to find them and end their life. I held hope that my father would help me. Why? I’m honestly not sure. Maybe I was looking for something that’s never been there in regard to how he felt about me. But his letter confirms he views me as nothing but a pawn to be used however he sees fit, or my brother, now that our father has been forced to step down as head of the family.

I’ve tried to call Carlo so many times, but his phone goes straight to voice mail. Every time. He had to have known about the cancer. I’m so damn furious he didn’t see fit to tell me. But what’s one more thing to add to the pile of shit that is my brother?

The knock on my bedroom door pulls me out of my thoughts. It’s nine in the morning, but the passage of time doesn’t really mean anything to me anymore. I’m just a prisoner in this house, waiting for my brother to decide what to do with me. Not unlike how I lived my life when my father was in charge, but this feels heavier. More inescapable.

Nina, the house manager, pokes her head in. “Your brother called and said you were to be packed and ready to leave the property in two hours.” Her face doesn’t give much away; it never has, but I see sympathy in her eyes, which instantly has me on edge.

“Where am I going?”

She walks in and closes the door behind me. “He didn’t say much except a man named Nikolai Petrov was sending a car for you and he expects you at his estate in New York.”

“New York?”

Nina nods.

“The only Petrov I’ve ever heard of in New York is…”

I jump out of bed, grabbing my thin robe and throwing it over my small sleep shorts and tank top.

I pick up my phone and dial Carlo’s number, hoping he finally picks up.

“I suppose Nina told you that you were leaving?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Carlo, what the hell is going on?”

“I’ve found you a husband, dear sister. Congratulations,” he answers, sounding annoyed and completely put out that I’m calling him.

“To a Petrov? How could you? Father would've never condoned this. He hated the Russians.”

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