Page 24 of Luca

Just as he gets out of the car, several figures emerge from under the portico. I slowly emerge from the vehicle, my eyes never leaving the man the police have in handcuffs.

My father.

I look at Luca, whose jaw is tight, as my father is led to one of the cars, a hand going to his head before being shoved into the cruiser.

Luca turns to me, my eyes wide with disbelief. In all the years I’ve been alive, my father has never been arrested at our home. I hold Luca’s stare as thoughts race through my head. What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Does Carlo know our father is on his way to jail?

The moment that last thought crosses my frazzled mind, I see my brother standing on the steps that lead into the house, a small smile ghosting his lips. I know that smile, remember it quite well from our childhood, and I know damn well it doesn’t mean anything good.

Before anyone can stop me, I’m running toward my brother. A few officers shout, but I pay them no mind.

“Carlo, What the hell is going on?”

My brother gives me his signature bland look. The good thing about being in Italy nearly half the year is I don’t have to deal with the asshole standing in front of me.

“Oh, you’re back.”

“Yes Carlo,” I begin with a bite to my voice. “I got back this morning. Are you going to tell me why our father is being shoved into a police cruiser?”

“I would think it’s obvious, Giada. He’s being arrested.” He looks back toward the driveway where the cars are pulling out as though the fact that I’m standing here hardly registers in his thick skull.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Carlo. I’m not an idiot. Where are they taking him? Have you called his lawyers?”

He lets out an annoyed sigh and looks behind me. I turn briefly and find Luca at my back, his gaze flicking between Carlo and me. “You couldn’t have kept her in the car?” he asks my bodyguard.

“She ran off before I could stop her. Do we know anything?”

“They’re taking him to the station. The feds showed up about thirty minutes ago with a warrant. I’ll know more when I talk to his lawyers.”

The fact that Carlo is answering Luca’s questions and treats me like an annoying fly buzzing around sends rage coursing through my body.

“Talk to me, Carlo. Tell me what’s going on. I’m his daughter, goddamnit.”

He finally looks back at me. There’s still annoyance in his cold gaze, but something else, too. Something darker. “What’s going on is our father has been arrested, most likely never to see freedom again. What that means for you is I’m now in charge of the family. What I say goes, and right now, you need to go to your room and stay there until you can calm the hell down. I don’t need your grating voice in my ear.”

He turns and walks back into the house, effectively dismissing me like he always did when we were growing up. To say Carlo and I have a strained relationship is putting it mildly. Even when I was a kid, he never had patience for me, often screaming at me to get out of his way or physically pushing me away. I never understood why he seemed to hate me, but there was never a time when he didn’t treat me like the gum on the bottom of his shoe. Now, he expects me to ask how high when he tells me to jump?

Well, screw that and screw him. I refuse to lie down and let my brother dictate my future.

Chapter eight

Luca

Giada is left standing under the portico after her brother unceremoniously dismisses her by turning his back and walking away. If the furious look in her eyes is anything to go by, I’d say Carlo is pretty damn lucky there are no sharp objects within his sister’s reach. She looks about five seconds away from stabbing him in the back.

“Maybe you should let me take you up to your room,” I offer.

Her angry gaze swings to me. “Well, looks like you have a new master to bow to, Luca. Please don’t let me keep you waiting. Run along after my brother.” She waves her hand in the direction of where her brother walked off.

Why the hell I thought this girl was going to accept any form of help from me is anyone’s guess. When I saw her face as they were putting her father into the police cruiser, the devastation written in her amber eyes, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy. I know damn well what it’s like to have your world turned upside down. Different circumstances, sure, but for a brief moment I saw a side of Giada I’d never witnessed before and I wanted to help, to be here for her. I certainly won’t make that mistake again.

“Whatever, princess. Have it your way.”

Turning on my heels, I leave her standing outside and go in search of Carlo. I find him sitting in his office with a glass of scotch in his hand and his phone to his ear. He motions for me to have a seat while he listens to the person on the other end, humming his agreement a few times before thanking whoever he’s talking to and disconnecting the call.

“Scotch?” he offers as though this is simply a friendly little chat and we didn’t just witness his father being hauled away in handcuffs. I’m not particularly surprised. I’ve come to know Carlo as an ice-cold asshole. I don’t know if the man feels any emotion whatsoever or if there’s just a black hole in the center of his chest that craves to be filled with power and other people’s pain. It seems to me the latter rings true for most, if not all, days.

Playing along with his relaxed attitude, I nod and he pours another drink from the bottle sitting on his desk.

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