Page 47 of Cruel Longing

“Who else?”

I stuck my fork into a bite of avocado on top of the salad the kitchen staff had prepared.

“Why do you think you two hate each other so much?” I questioned.

“Because we both have the same target.”

I lowered my fork. “I’m not a target. And Ciro doesn’t see me the way you do. I assure you.”

“Please. I’ve seen how he looks at you. I know he’s the best in the industry. I can’t fault him for his work. But the vibe he still gives off after all these years is a little fucked up, Amara.”

My shoulders dropped. “We’ve had such a good day. I don’t want Ciro to ruin dinner.”

“Ciro or me?” he pressed. When I didn’t answer, he backtracked. “It has been a great day. I’m not trying to kill the mood.”

“Good.” I smiled. I couldn’t help but feel remnants of guilt start to attach themselves to the happy threads between us. The guilt was working its way in, whether I agreed with it or not. I could only postpone the truth for so long. “I should probably tell you something. Something that happened while you were away. It might explain a few things.”

Luka stopped chewing. His eyes flashed to mine. “What happened?” The playfulness left his voice.

I reached for the wine. I had Bella comb the cellar for one of my favorite bottles. It was a Ksara Rose with a little bubbly in it. I didn’t want to drink Novikov champagne with Luka after the Katya and Enzo story. We needed a few minutes to breathe on our own without being reminded of how we were going to get them to France.

I took a sip, following his eyes. “I’m fine. I’m completely fine now.”

“Shit. What does that even mean? Were you not fine?”

That was the wrong way to start the story. I’d always wondered if he had known. If somehow Dmitry or Anna had told him what happened. Surely, he kept up with New Orleans news. Wouldn’t he have asked me by now? His silence was the answer. He had been in the dark.

My eyes cut away. How was I supposed to tell him?

“Stop looking at me like that.” I needed him to back off. He couldn’t crack before I even told him.

“Like what?” He knew exactly what he was doing. Staring at me as if I were weak or fragile. I was neither of those things. I wouldn’t break if he held me too tightly.

“I’m sorry. It’s a tough topic. I’m worried what you’re going to think.”

“Then just tell me.” He pushed his plate to the side. It was possible I had ended the nice dinner we were going to share.

“Five years ago, I was kidnapped.”

I knew his eyes well enough to know that in less than a second he had crossed a spectrum of emotions.

“But, I’m completely fine.” If I kept saying those words over and over maybe they would be true. I could downplay the kidnapping for his sake. The worst parts had faded in three years.

“No.” He shook his head. His jaw was set in formidable opposition to what I had told him. “If it’s too much you don’t have to tell me.” Luka stood tall. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, Amara, I don’t know how to hear this.”

I hesitated to reach for him. I thought if I could touch him, draw him to me he might calm down. Couldn’t he see that whatever horrific scenes he was imagining, I had survived them? I was here with him now because I was safe.

“There are a lot of things we don’t know about each other. I’m trying to fill you in, but you’ve got to listen to the entire story. You can’t shut down on me before I explain. Please, Luka,” I pleaded for him to stop feeding his anger and focus on what was in this room—us.

There were reasons to tell him about the kidnapping. It had the potential to end his hatred of Ciro. I needed a break from the contempt between them, but what did broaching peace cost?

He exhaled. “I’m listening.” I could tell the effort it took for him to be still. His knuckles turned white against his sides. I felt the tension. The pain.

“Thank you. Maybe I should pour us refills.” I reached for the bottle of rose.

“I’m going to need something stronger,” he argued. He strolled to the bar and opened the lid on a crystal decanter.

“All right, so this is what happened,” I started once we had both returned to the sitting area. “It wasn’t long after my father died when things began to change quickly for me. It was a while before I took on the Amato organization. There were trips back and forth to Philadelphia. Long discussions with my Uncle Gio after my father passed.

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