Page 17 of Prince of Malice

LUCA

Irush through the cold streets of Montcove, cutting across streets without even looking for any oncoming cars or hazards. I shiver away the cold bite of the frigid nighttime air, only now realizing I left my coat back at the sorority house. Still, I don’t think of going back for it. I can’t get away from that place fast enough.

What the hell was I thinking?

Kissing the son of a rival family, let alone him being my own stepbrother and part of the link that holds our union together. If anyone were to find out about that moment, if Dominic were to say a word about what I did, it would shatter the brittle alliance. Dadwould know that his plan falling apart was entirely my fault, and he would never see me fit to take over the business. I would be seen as weak, emotional, and reckless. The Valenti men are strong, logical, and calculated. It is the Rossi brand to act so carelessly?—however, I was the one to kiss him.

What is wrong with me?

As my moment of weakness replays itself in my mind against my own will, I can’t help but think of how he kissed me back. I made a mistake, but he was the one that doubled down on it. He held me closer and forced his tongue into my mouth.

Could it really be all that bad then?

I try my best to reject that idea despite my yearning for it.

Of course it was that bad!

If Dominic Rossi would’ve done the same, if he had gone along with my kiss, then of course it was wrong. He is everything I’m not, so why the hell should I want to be like him? Act like him? I could never.

I take notice of my absent-minded walk, staring around myself and realizing I have no idea where I am. I check the street signs for any hint of familiarity and see the distinctdesign of the church down the street and the name of the school on the block, but I have no memory of any of it.

I fumble around in my pocket and take out my phone. I squint to be able to see the dim light of the screen through my bleary eyes, thumbing at the phone to dial the number of who I really needed right now.

The phone rings repeatedly, and each time, I become less and less confident that he’ll actually pick up.

Finally, a voice crackles on the other end of the line. “Luca? What are you doing calling me at this hour?”

I pull the phone away from my ear and check the time. It’s well past midnight, and I hadn’t even noticed. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I got stranded out in the middle of nowhere after a party.”

“How did you manage that?”

“It was getting late, and the party took a turn. I just needed to get out of there.” I didn’t want to directly lie to him,—he would catch me out if I tried—so I hope that just bending the truth will work.

“Alright, it was a smart decision to not get involved in anything,” he says. “I’ll send Filowith the car. Do you want him to take you back to your dorm?”

“Uh no, actually…” I switch the phone to my other ear. “I was wondering if it would be alright for me to come home for the night.” I wait for his reply, and it feels like it takes an eternity to come.

“I’ll have your bed made up for you,” he replies. “When you get back, meet me in my study. There’s something we should probably discuss sooner rather than later.”

I want to go home to get away from any more stress, but his words only pile on top of my worries. “Of course. Thank you for this.”

He hesitates before speaking again. “The car will be there shortly.” The phone clicks, and the line ends. He hung up.

The drive is as quiet as the night around it. Filo sits silently in the driver’s seat and keeps his eyes on the road. Unlike my dad, I leave the privacy window between us open. I never liked the idea of it; it feels so strange to know that someone sits on the other side of the metal cabin, purposefullyexcluded from the conversation. It wasn’t like Filo couldn’t be trusted; he’s been with the family and our business since long before I was born. He always felt like one of my uncles. The only difference is that he’s on my father’s payroll in a more official capacity. Filo is too much of a well-meaning and respectable man to be mixed up with the less-than-reputable dealing of the Valentis, and my father knew it. While he may drive us to and from our business, he always chooses to stay in the car waiting for it to be over.

“You have a good time at least?” Filo asks. “I heard you had to leave early, but I hope it didn’t ruin your night.” His words are sincere; he always is. And that’s the exact reason he stays on the outskirts of the Valenti business.

“Yeah, it was good. Just too much drama that I didn’t want to get into.” I wish there was someone I could actually talk to, but no matter what, this has to stay unknown.

Filo chuckles. “Ah, I see. I think I had to deal with something similar when I was your age.”

“What? I don’t know what you mean,” Istammer. “It was just some college kids getting drunk and fighting.”

“Alright, that’s fair enough. Guess I got it wrong,” he says. “Here I was thinking it was all down to some crush.” His eyes glint and reflect toward me through the car’s rear view mirror.

My eyes dart away from his. “No, nothing like that.” I can’t even look at him, but still, I sense his doubt and suspicion.

Filo says nothing for a moment, “Well, you don’t need to worry. You’re almost home now.” He smiles, his eyes focusing back on the road again.

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