Page 80 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

It’s simple, but the question hangs between us, laden with the years of hurt, longing, and confusion. The moment stretches, Luca’s silence suffocating the air around us as he looks at me, his jaw tightening.

Luca’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze shifting downward as if the weight of what he’s about to say is too much to bear. He’sbeen carrying this for six years, and the words seem to strain his chest as he speaks, each one slow and painful.

“I hacked into the mob’s network. It was–a prank really—just fucking around, you know?” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “I found a hit on someone, and the payout was ridiculously high. Way more than the usual. I knew something was wrong about it. No one in their right mind would turn down a job like that for that kind of money.”

I close my eyes, knowing it was about me.

He pauses, his fingers thrumming on the desk, but he doesn’t look at me, still looking down. “I traced it to a meeting location and dug around on who lived there. The cyber-protection was a fucking fortress, and I couldn’t get inside with my computers. I needed to know who the hell was getting hit.”

His voice cracks just slightly as he says the next part. “The second you walked into that room, Lenny... I knew. I knew you were the target. You were the one they were going to kill.”

His jaw tightens, and I can feel the regret rolling off him like a palpable force. “I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do something. I had to stop it. I didn’t care what it meant—I just couldn’t let you die.”

I’m quiet for a long time, my breath catching in my throat. It feels like a thousand different emotions are crashing into me at once. Fear, pain, confusion. But the one that cuts the deepest is the silence.

“But you stayed away. Even after that night, even after all of it, you never came back.” My chest aches as I stare at him. “You just… disappeared. You didn’t–you didn’t come back for me.”

Luca’s eyes close, and he rubs his hand over his face, frustration evident in his movements. “One question, one answer, Lenny,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something darker than regret. “Those are the rules.”

My mouth opens, but I stay quiet for a beat, trying to steady my thoughts.

He pulls a card from the deck, his fingers shaking just slightly as he reveals it. Two of clubs.

He looks at me, eyes dark and full of something unspoken. Something heavy. “Your question, Len,” he says softly.

I want to understand him so badly, but the more I try, the more impossible it feels. He’s been an enigma this entire week—a phantom I can’t quite grasp, each time I try slipping through my fingers.

I look at him for a long moment, my heart pounding, the words coming to me before I can even stop them. “Why do you hate yourself?”

Luca’s hands tremble ever so slightly as he places the card back on the table, his eyes never meeting mine. The room feels unbearably still, as if the air itself is waiting for him to speak.

“I had to protect you,” he finally says, his voice raw, barely a whisper. But his words don't seem to hold the weight I expected. There's something underneath them, something heavier.

I press him further, unable to contain the need to know. "Luca, why do you hate yourself?"

He looks at me then, eyes wide and tortured, and for the first time, I see the flicker of something truly broken in him. His shoulders slump, as if the weight of whatever he's been carrying is finally getting to him.

And then he answers, his voice thick with pain. “Because I killed her.”

The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, I can't breathe. "Who?" The word barely escapes my lips, a breathless whisper.

He swallows, his gaze locking onto mine. "I killed my mother, Lenny."

Luca’s confession hangs in the air between us, thick with regret, guilt, and unspoken pain. The truth of it—the weight of it—almost suffocates him. Luca killed his mother. That must be why there are no pictures of her. But there’s more. I can see it in his pleading eyes as he watches me.

I have to be careful. He already thinks he’s a monster. If I’m going to reach him, I can’t let him stay trapped in this belief. I can’t let him believe he’s beyond saving.

I need to show him—show him that he’s still the man I love, the man who used to hold me like he was afraid to let go, even for a second.

Without another word, I slide off the desk and into his lap. With my heart pounding in my chest, I straddle him, settling onto him. His body tenses beneath me. He exhales a shaky breath, his fingers tightening briefly on my waist before he shakes his head, his voice low and strained. “Delaney... you shouldn’t. I don’t deserve this.”

I shake my head, cupping his jaw gently and bringing his face closer to mine. “You deserve this. You deserve more than you think.”

His eyes are a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and something else that makes my heart ache. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer, feeling the heat of his body against mine. “Luca,” I whisper softly, brushing my lips near his ear. “Draw my next card for me.”

His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to push me away. But instead, he seems to crumble, his heart pounding like a drum against my chest. Slowly, he moves his forehead to rest against mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

It feels like I’ve waited forever for this—to hold him like this again.

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