Page 126 of Wicked Rivals

VAL

I worked hard to keep my eyes open as we approached the front door of the dilapidated old house.

The overpowering stink of mildew and rot hit me in the face when we crossed the threshold. What had once been a beautiful middle-class Craftsman home had wasted away with filth and decay.

There was so much lovely detail put into the archways and the floors, all of it likely once a gorgeous cherry red, but now scuffed dry, chipped, and buckling in several places.

The armchairs in the living room had tiny cigarette burns on the arms and the cushions. And the couch’s backrest looked to be stained by sweat with something darker on the seat.

The leather upholstered rocking chair with antique brass grommets had a cracked wooden frame. A large section in the front had broken away. It probably still rocked back just fine but rocking forward looked impossible.

Luka swept his arm out theatrically in a ridiculous grand gesture to the living room.

“See?” he said. “You could’ve had all this. You could have made this house a home for us. All it really needs is a woman's touch. Could’ve been your palace after we fixed it up together.”

The only thing that would fix this home was a blowtorch.

Trash littered every room—food wrappers and beer bottles and crushed soda cans all over the place. Newspapers and magazines stacked so high they almost reached the ceiling.

Whether it was fuck-face Luka himself or the previous inhabitant of this house, whoever had lived there behaved like a damn hoarder.

We walked past the kitchen, and it oozed with the stench of rotting food and death.

Bits of fabric hung from a curtain rod over the kitchen sink window. At one time, the lace had been pretty, but now raggedy shredded strips fell off the wooden dowel, half eaten by insects.

An ancient refrigerator sat in the corner, and its door hung wide open with live mold spilling out of the containers inside.

Something about this house made me so sad.

If I looked closely, I could see the details revealing how deeply loved and cared for this place was in its prime. Now it seemed neglected past the point of no return.

For a moment, I wondered if that was going to be me.

Once Enzo grew up, had his own life, his own wife, his own children, and didn’t need to be on the run with me anymore, would he forget me like this house? Neglected and abandoned, left to rot away without a family to fill my days with love and light and warmth?

Without a partner to help take care of me.

Stefano's face popped into my head.

I remembered the date we’d had and how we lay in bed late into the night talking about the future we wanted. Growing old together, taking care of each other and our children, visiting our grandchildren.

That dream had quickly died between us.

The memory of us led me to wonder what Stefano’s truth really might be…

Was he truly the man I thought he’d become over the past ten years? Don Vignali, someday the king of all New York kings. Or was Stefano-the-mafia-boss the mask he forced himself to wear for the sake of his family? For the code.

Thinking about the Stefano I’d known first, the man I fell so hard for once upon a time, could that have been a mask worn by the mafia monster?

I just didn't know.

Luka’s voice startled me out of my thoughts.

“This home was built for my grandmother,” he said. “She was like you. A woman who understood her place and took care of the home. My mother, though… she was different. She didn’t deserve this house. I’d hoped to bring Benedetta here. But now I realize that’s not in the cards for us.”

“Because she didn't love you?”

I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it grew increasingly harder to focus my thoughts or even control which of them came tumbling out of me.

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