Page 104 of Call You Mine

Running my fingers over the sofa, I take in the bright white leather. I’ll admit it’s bold and brave, given his career. Red stains and Enzo sees a lot in his day to day.

Footsteps echo in the distance, but they sound too delicate to be of a man. The heels continue to click against the marble floor, louder and louder as they approach from behind me. I’m afraid to turn, too terrified to discover who it is that’s coming for me, but before I can react, a shadow enters the living room, my body going stiff when a familiar face comes into view.

He waltzes into the room, head held high, a knowing smirk on his face that confuses me. Like he knew I’d be here, which makes no sense unless…

“Hey there Wynnie,” he says, dark green eyes hidden behind the darkening bruise on the apple of his cheek. Beyond that he's impeccably dressed in a dark green suit, his dark hair, shooter than the last time I saw him, neatly combed into place, and the usual black liner he likes to use on his waterline blends into the bruise around his eye.

“Luke,” I mutter under my breath, the sight of him bloody and beaten flashing before my eyes. The photograph from last night, the one Enzo sent me—the reason Carrington came to me angry and in search of her brother. Enzo must be coming after those close to me, and although Luke and I aren’t close in the slightest, he must have figured out Luke was the one who helped me escape.

Though there remains the fact that Luke hadn’t reached out to me since the day I left New York. Not to mention, he looks nothing like a prisoner.

“What are you…” I pause, turning behind me when I feel someone rush past me. All I catch is a glimpse of a black dress flowing out of sight. “Luke, what is this?” I ask, my voice now louder than it was a second ago. Because I’m no longer worried about Luke and the idea that he might have been tortured because of me. No, this is turning out to be much more sinister than anything I could have expected.

Luke continues to walk towards me. With each step closer, my body tenses further. Wrapping my arms over my chest, one hand still on the gun in my pocket, I hold it against me, trying to ensure it remains hidden. I brace myself for whatever he’s about to do, but he surprises me, wrapping his arms around my shoulder and bringing me in for a hug. My body grows rigid, unable to react to his touch, which feels so foreign, so wrong.

His hot breath brushes against my ear as she speaks against me, softly kissing me like it's’ the most casual thing. “My girl, you’ve come home to me. I’ve been waiting for you so patiently, but I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.”

I don’t pull away, unsure how this will play out if I come off defensive. “I don’t understand Luke. What the hell is going on?”What if he’s in on this with Enzo? What if he’s played me all along? Did he know Enzo was alive? Was it part of the plan to “allow” me to escape and make me believe I was free?

Luke pulls away slightly, his gaze falling on me. There’s a glimpse of something in his eyes that I can't quite pinpoint, his pupils an endless void which show no emotion.

“I asked you to come, and you did, Wynnie. You came to me.” His voice is almost unrecognizable. It’s almost as if he’s dissociated from reality. “You left him and you came to me because you knew this is where you belong. You chose me.”

My heartbeat elevates, and my stomach drops as a sense of dread cripples me. “I don’t understand. You’re talking crazy, Luke, and it’s freaking me out. You didn’t text me. I got a text from…” I pause, unable to speak, when realization finally hits me like a sharp dagger to my chest, taking with it all the oxygen from my body. No, no, this can’t be right. I can’t be this fucking foolish. “You,” I mutter, so low I’m not sure he’s heard me. But the wicked grin that appears on his face proves he has, and that I am right.

Luke tucks a tendril of hair that’s come loose from my ponytail behind my ear, “Yes, well I guess I played our little game too well.. Tell me Wynnie, did you honestly believe your dear husband was haunting you from beyond the grave.”

I release my hold on the gun, needing both my hands to push away from him. “What the hell did you do, Luke?”

Luke struts nonchalantly to the edge of the sofa, trailing his fingers along the armrest until he’s standing on the otherside, putting the large white sectional between us. “You see, my darling Wynnie, you didn’t kill your husband.” My heart nearly stops. If it weren’t impossible, I’d swear it did, if only for a second. My breathing turns unsteady as I try to make sense of what he’s saying.If I didn’t kill him, then Enzo’s not dead?As if reading my uncertainty, Luke continues. “You fucked him good, I’ll give you that, but Enzo didn’t die like you’d assumed. He was borderline, one foot in hell, yet he was holding on for dear life to the land of the living. But I did us all a favor and gave him the push he needed to join the other side.”

Relief floods me at the truth that not only am I not a murderer, but Enzo is, in fact, dead. Though it’s easily washed away with the uncertainty of what is truly going on here.

Luke continues with his villain monologue, not giving me time to react to what he’s just confessed. “I was initially the one who sent you the text messages when you left New York once I realized you’d ditched my efforts in helping you escape and I realized you’d gone to him.” Damon, that’s who he’s referring to. He knew I went to Damon instead of taking his help and going to that shitty motel he’d gotten me a room at. “Before I left New York, I took Enzo’s phone from his dead corpse and when I canceled his cell service, I could hack the device so the old phone number would only register to you. I couldn’t have any of his associates of the Famiglia finding out it was me who’d put the fucker down.”

But there’s one question that remains…How did he know I was with Damon?I know I wasn’t doing the best job keeping under the radar after coming back home. Especially jumping right into a relationship—fake or otherwise—with him. When Carrington came to me, surprised to see Damon by my side, I knew I hadn’t been as obvious as I’d thought. Luke could have only known if he’d had me followed.

“How did you…?” I say, but he quickly interrupts me, his tone now sharper, like he’s getting annoyed with all my questioning. I don’t think this is playing out the way he had imagined in his mind. Usually, when people are delusional, it never does.

“I knew because I was the one who had you followed last year, straight to his doorstep,” he confesses, and my fear quickly turns to anger. “Enzo was not happy when I told him his wife, his most prized possession, was sneaking into the bed of another.”

“You,” I retort bitterly, “You’re the reason Damon was beaten and almost killed. He was left for dead.”

Luke scoffs, “The asshole survived by some miracle, came back from the land of the dead a richer man too. The fucking bastard. If anything, he should thank me.”

My mind is reeling, nausea making a fast comeback as my stomach grows queasy. Whether it’s my anxiety or my pregnancy, I’m so close to coming apart as my emotions run rampant inside me. “Why?” I croak, my voice breaking as I swallow back the bile that begs to come out.

Luke’s expression softens, a hint of hurt glazing over his eyes. He looks broken. This cruel murderer suddenly looks like I just kicked his puppy or something. In a matter of seconds, he rushes back over to me. Though as I take quick steps backwards to get away, I hit a hard body behind me. I don’t get the chance to look behind me and see who it is, because Luke grabs me, his fingers roughly digging into my shoulders as he hauls me toward him, keeping my gaze on his.

“Because you didn’t want me, Wynter. You never did. I worshiped the ground you walked on. I loved you when everyone hated you, yet you treated me like I meant nothing to you. You ignored me, never even gave us a chance.”

Panic rushes within me at the obsessive look in his eyes. The desire in them as his eyes roam over me, although my body is hidden behind the baggy sweater and jeans, makes me quiver.The hatred that seethes from his lips as he recalls my being with Damon. Luke and I were never anything more than friends, if you could even call us that. He was someone I could pass the time with, someone who listened and paid attention to me when no one else did, so yeah, maybe I unintentionally led him on when we were younger, but it meant nothing. At least not to me.

His gaze suddenly shifts behind me, like he’s staring straight into the eyes of whoever’s standing flush against me. “But I found something better, someone better.”

Just then it hits me—thanks to my suddenly heightened sense of smell—my mother’s perfume. I inwardly cringe at the potent aroma of jasmine and cedarwood, a scent she’s always worn too much of. Her fingers wrap around my neck, pointed claws digging into my skin as she comes around to face me. Luke releases his hold on me and takes a few steps back to make room for her. Then it happens. Bile rises to my throat as I come face to face with my mother for the first time in over a month.

Willa’s eyes throw sharp daggers in my direction and I can’t help question what I ever did to make my mother hate me so much. My heart aches as I recall the few decent memories I have of her from when I was younger. She always resented me as a kid, that I remember clearly. But I truly never judged her for it. She became a mother at eighteen, to two children, neither one of which she wanted.

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