Page 30 of Keeping My Bride

Chapter 21

Verona

WE’RE ON OUR way to Luca’s father’s house for dinner. I haven’t spoken to Luca since the night when I found out he cheated on me. Or at least I think he cheated on me anyway. He never did come out and admit it, but he was definitely with a girl that night. The evidence of their encounter was clearly written in lipstick on the collar of his shirt.

I’ve been holed up in my room for a couple of days. Thankfully, Dante was bringing me my meals, otherwise I would have probably starved. Not once did Luca come to apologize or check on me. Not that I expected him to. That’s simply not Luca.

Yesterday, I spent the day watching my husband train with his men outside of my bedroom window. He was bruised and cut and covered in blood…and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Watching him use his fists to fight his way out of situations where one, two or three men were ganging up on him made me hot and bothered to the point where I was practically drooling.

I memorized every detail about his body, and I can’t seem to get the images out of my mind. Luca’s body looks like it was carved out of stone. His shoulders are broad, tapering to a narrow waist, and I swear he has an eight-pack and not a six pack. And his tattoos…they look like inky works of art stamped on his arms and hands.

Luca is dangerous…and hot. There is no doubt about that. He can turn me on with a single look. But with just a few words, he can also turn me right back off. It’s like a light switch when it comes to Luca. It’s either off or on; there’s no middle ground. We definitely have a love-hate relationship, with an emphasis more on the hate.

The car ride to his father’s house is full of tension. We both remain completely silent the entire way. I could make an attempt at small talk, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

By the time we reach our destination, I am so overwhelmed with anxiety that I open the door and rush out of the car before Benito can even get out of the driver’s seat. I’m just so desperate for fresh air and to not be in close proximity to my husband a second longer.

Salvatore Vitale is waiting on the front porch of his giant mansion that makes our home seem like an apartment in comparison. As I walk up the steps, I realize how much Luca looks just like his father. They both share the same dark hair and light gray eyes, although Salvatore has a tint of silver in his locks. I’m sure if they were the same age, they could probably pass for twins instead of father and son.

“Welcome, Verona,” his father says, stepping forward, leaning down and kissing both of my cheeks. “You look lovely.” He towers over me just like Luca.

“Thank you, Mr. Vitale.” It took me over an hour to decide on what to wear tonight, but I just went with a little black dress and heels. You can never go wrong with an LBD.

“Please, call me Salvatore,” he suggests. Then, his eyes go to his son, and I can feel that growing friction again, except it’s not directed at me this time. “Son.”

“Father.”

A shiver runs through me, but it’s not from the chill in the air. I can tell that this father and son relationship is strained, to say the least. I’m not sure why, and I’m sure Luca would never tell me the truth even if I asked.

We walk into the grand foyer, and my eyes take in every amazing detail. This house looks like it belongs in a magazine or on TV. It’s so immaculate and extravagant. It’s hard to believe that a little boy once lived here. I wonder if Luca was ever able to do anything out of line, like leave his toys strewn about, like all little boys do?

Salvatore leads us into the dining room. It reminds me of a grand ballroom instead of a place to simply eat. The three of us sit at one end of a long dining table that could accommodate forty guests. Salvatore sits at the head of the table, of course, and then Luca sits to his father’s right while I sit to his left, straight across from Luca.

Drinks are served promptly, and I opt for wine and water, same as Luca, while Salvatore requests a whiskey on the rocks.

Once the servers have left the room, Salvatore asks Luca, “So, how do you like the new house?”

“It’s fine,” he says in response.

His father grunts. “Well, for the seventeen million I paid for it, I would hope it’s more than just fine,” he says sarcastically as he nurses the dark liquor in a rocks glass.

I didn’t realize Salvatore Vitale bought us the mansion since Luca had never mentioned it. “The house is lovely. Thank you so much,” I tell him with a forced smile.

“Finally, someone with proper manners,” Salvatore mutters. “And you’re welcome for your wedding present. It was the least I could do. I couldn’t have you staying in Luca’s bachelor pad in Manhattan now, could I? That’s no place for a family.”

I sneak a peek at Luca, who looks extremely uncomfortable. “Honestly, I would have been happy anywhere,” I confess. Luca looks up and meets my eyes, and I can see his eyes narrow in confusion. He thinks I’m playing games with him, but I’m really not. I’m just trying to ease the thick tension in the room somehow.

“Ahh, so you’re easy to please. Luca is a lucky man. That’s so rare to come by anymore. Women are all about material things nowadays,” Salvatore rambles on.

I wonder if he knows from experience and if he’s been sleeping his way through New York and New Jersey ever since his wife died? I have a feeling based on his confession that he has. Maybe Luca has too over the years. But I don’t want to think about the women that came before me.

Salvatore takes a swig of his liquor, finishing off the glass before putting it down. “My very good friend is hosting a party at his home Friday night. I would like for both of you to attend.”

I smile at the invitation. A party sounds like fun and something a real couple would do. “That sounds wonderful,” I say.

Luca shoots me a glare before turning his attention to his father. “I suppose we can go. Send me the details.”

“Of course.”

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