Page 16 of A War Around Us

Fear.

Lucca didn’t miss my weakening spark, and his palm flattened. Was I so easy to see through? It was rare when someone could see my inner struggles. I excelled at concealing emotions. Most times better than my own father. I was off my game.

Today, I wasweak.

“Mario couldn’t stay. Business demanded his attention.” Enzo explained our father’s absence, but the disrespect wasn’t lost on Lucca.

“Expect a summer wedding,” Lucca’s cold voice announced. “I’ll let Katia decide the date.” Enzo stretched his hand out. Lucca shook and held it. “No harm is to come to Ilias or Davina.”

At the mention of the woman’s name, his eyes shot toward Leo, who wore a cruel smile. Lucca’s fingers curled over my skin, catching his reaction.

“As long as my sister is protected, I don’t see why we wouldn’t hold our end of this deal.”

Lucca pulled away from their shake and slid his hand over my waist. His hand wrapped so effortlessly.

“Tell me, Vitelli. Who protected her from the bruises on her face?”

Enzo’s lips twitched as his eyes slid to me. He was bothered by Lucca’s accusation.

“She’ll become my wife as promised, but what occurs under my city and roof is not part of the arrangement.”

Enzo searched my eyes, but we’d become strangers and anything he wanted to share got lost in broken communication.

Drained from this made-men meeting, its politics, the unsaid threats, and warnings, I drew away from the present. I only heard the distant,“I’ll be waiting for the decided date,”from Enzo.

We walked out of my childhood home without my acknowledgment of my family. In spite of wearing a long coat, the low temperatures of New York, and my feelings, numbed my heart with a bitter blow.

Lucca’s warm hand left my back as I slid inside the back cabin of their black car. Keeping my eyes on the headrest in front of me as we rode in silence.

I never looked back. Not even when the airplane took off into the air and away from the city I’d been born in.

An hour had passed with the low humming of the engine circulating in the bleak atmosphere. It was hard to keep busy when I was seated in front of Lucca. Difficult even to refrain from asking questions or keep my eyes from wandering toward him.

Of course, nothing bothered Lucca. He just sat comfortably, with a tablet in one hand and a drink in the other.

A second hour passed. This time, I spent my time entertained by the straight lines and angles of my drawing. I was lucky the moment I spotted my large carry-on where I kept my sketchbook. I didn’t ask. I stood and picked it up, taking out my pencil and drawing book. Lucca’s attention never flickered away from his tablet. I sketched, erased, drew again, and erased some more.

Not even my design worked in my favor.

I gave up on my model and closed the book.

I stared at him.

Stared at the sharp lines of his face. The light scruff that helped hide his reactions but added a distinctive appeal to him. His hair was lightly styled, enough to know he took his time in the morning to run his fingers over the longer strands but not enough to seem preoccupied with such detail. His thick hair almost seemed naturally shaped as it waved back on his head and an inch to his right. Only the top was long enough for my fingers to grip. I shook away the thought and lowered my gaze to his neck, but the tattoos peeking out of his tailored collar shirt were more difficult to shake.

Any turn my gaze took of him wasn’t safe. I chose his chest instead. Before he had taken his seat, he had discarded his coat and blazer, leaving only his tie and shirt safely tucked underneath his vest. While I couldn’t see his skin, my choice wasn’t the best because now I could see the outline of his muscles under his fitted black shirt. The lean, yet strong cut chest and shoulders.

I couldn’t deny it, Lucca Moretti was appealing to the eye. Luring even, with his hard and quiet demeanor.

I stared back at his eyes.

He was staring back at mine.

VIII

LUCCA

Miami

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