Page 60 of Depths of Obsession
I take a shaky breath. “The first time my father hit my mother, I was only eight. It was such a shock to me. I just didn’t expect it. We were all joking around in the kitchen, and he made some comment. She sassed him back, and he slapped her. Told her she was never allowed to talk back to him, not ever. I remember it because she looked so… so stunned, like she couldn’t believe it either. Later that night, I heard them arguing, and God, the sound of his fist hitting her soft flesh…” My voice wavers, and I look away, the memory sharp, like broken glass digging into my skin. “He said the most awful things to her.” I shudder, draw a deep breath and continue. “I was only about eight. Home for summer break. I just… I couldn’t believe it.”
Luca's hand tightens gently on my thigh. “I’m so sorry, little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “That must have been so traumatic.”
I nod, blinking back tears. “The worst part was the next day. It was like it had never happened. They acted like everything was fine, like we were still this perfect family. We were going to the summer house, and everything was all smiles and laughter. I should’ve known better.”
“You were eight, Pippa,” Luca says gently. “You shouldn’t have had to know better.”
I smile, but it’s brittle, fragile. “The first time he hit me, I was twelve. He wanted me to go to some party—a kid’s birthday, someone I’d never even met. He had to go because of his position, and he wanted me to come along. But I’d just gotten my period, and I felt miserable, so I asked to stay home. He said no, and I started crying. He slapped me, told me to smarten up and be strong.” I swallow hard, the memory vivid, my cheek almost stinging with the ghost of the blow.
Luca doesn’t say anything, but his body vibrates with emotion, likely anger. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark with fury. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my palm, and the tenderness of the gesture melts some of the ice in my chest, warming me enough to finish the story.
“Anyway, it was always a surprise,” I continue, my voice breaking. “I never knew when it was coming. He’d be fine one minute and an ogre the next. I stopped wanting to come home. My poor mother had to live with it every day. She couldn’t escape. She tried once, but he found her and dragged her back. He beat her so badly she was in bed for a week. She told everyone she’d been in a car accident, that she’d totaled her car. I didn’t find out the truth until I came home that summer. I found her car in the garage, covered in dust. There wasn’t a scratch on it.”
The weight of guilt settles over me, suffocating, making every breath painful. “Is my mother okay?” I ask, my voice cracking. “I feel horrible that I haven’t called her. I don’t even know what to say. It’s my fault?—”
Luca presses his fingers over my lips, silencing me. “None of this is your fault,” he says firmly, his eyes blazing with conviction. “Absolutely none of it. Youwill nottake the blame for your father’s actions. He was a narcissistic bastard, and the world is better off without him. If he were still alive, I’d kill him again, gladly.”
A thought occurs to me, and it’s so absurd I almost laugh. “Is that even possible?” I ask. “I mean, Mia mentioned there are all kinds of magical creatures. Could you bring back the dead?” I watch Luca's face, and despite everything, I feel a flicker of curiosity.
He smiles, and it makes my heart squeeze. I love his smile—it’s genuine, and it always reaches his eyes. “Truthfully? Yes, you can bring back the dead. But it’s a nasty business, and it’s not easy.” His smile turns into a smirk. “Would you like me to bring your father back just so I can kill him again?”
His tone is serious, and I realize he’s genuinely asking. “Would you do that if I asked?” I stare at him, stunned.
“Of course,” he says, his voice soft. “I’d do anything for you.” He kisses my palm again, and warmth spreads through me, chasing away the chill from old memories. “It would take some doing, but it’s manageable. Mostly.”
A laugh bursts out of me, but then I frown. What kind of person am I that I enjoy that thought? Does that make me horrible?
Luca studies me, his eyes softening. “It’s not wrong to think that way,” he says quietly. “I’m sure you’d love to kill him over and over again, until you feel better, until you’ve exorcised all the pain he caused. But the truth is, Pippa, that would never happen. Bringing him back to kill him all over again won’t make you happier. He’s not the problem anymore. The issue now is dealing with the aftermath, feeling everything you’ve bottled up. It’s going to take time.”
I sigh, nodding. He’s right. Bringing my father back wouldn’t help me, not really. But still… “It does have a certain appeal,” I admit, giving him a small, teasing smile.
He grins, his eyes brightening. “So, my sweet little one is bloodthirsty. Perfect. My favorite kind.”
I laugh, the sound easing some of the tension between us. It’s so easy to be here, in bed with Luca. Everything else seems so distant, so unimportant.
“Where were you going?” he asks, his tone suddenly serious.
“Going?” I frown, confused.
“When you ran out of the club, where were you and Luna going?”
My heart skips a beat. Coughing with the sudden dryness in my mouth, I hesitate, buying time to come up with an excuse. But I can’t lie to him. He deserves better than that. I let out a deep sigh. “We were running away.”
“I thought as much.” Luca sits up, leaning back against the headboard beside me. “Why?”
“Becausela famigliais stuck in the 1950s,” I say, bitterness lacing my words. “Not for the men, of course, but for the women? It’s brutal.”
“Explain.” His voice is calm, and I know he’s trying to understand. I also know he is hurt that I was planning to run.
“Luca, you don’t understand the pressure on me, on Mia, on Luna. Our parents demand we make good matches, that we marry well to maintain our family’s status. We aren’t allowed to live our lives like normal people. We’re always under scrutiny. That’s why our parents sent us away to school—it was the kindest thing they ever did. They said it was for security reasons, but when I got older, I understood the truth. If we weren’t in Italy, we weren’t in the fishbowl. People might gossip, but we weren’t under anyone’s nose. It’s all about appearances—keeping up the pretense no matter what.”
“But you were here during the summers,” Luca says, his brow furrowing. “You said you loved summers here.”
I shake my head. “I loved summers at the summer house. It’s on Lake Lugano, on the Swiss side. Once again, we were far from prying eyes. We didn’t have to play perfect daughters. We could just… breathe. But once Mia married Renzo and our fathers lost their influence, it only made things worse for me and Luna. My suffering at my father’s hands might be over, but Luna is still struggling. That’s why we were leaving.”
Luca frowns. “I’m not seeing it.”
“Before Mia married Renzo, our fathers were important men. Luna and I were considered good matches. But once Mia got engaged, everything changed. No one else could announce an engagement until after Mia and Renzo were married. Their marriage resulted in our fathers losing their standing, and we lost our value. Luna and I were no longer desirable. It put immense pressure on us. Luna’s father is still angry about it. She says there’s something he’s keeping from her, something bad. She wanted to run, and I… I wanted to run too, to escape all of it.”
