Page 115 of A War Around Us

“I don’t really have girlfriends,” I said, unconcerned. “I haven’t seen my cousins or spoken to them since I left the States, so…” I caught his profile. “Why? Were you planning on—”

“It can be just us two.”

I wanted to disagree, to tell him if he wanted his family next to him, I understood. But I didn’t. Deep down, I didn’t need the reminder of how alone I truly was.

A waiter passed by, tan skin, dark eyes, and a tray filled with champagne flutes. He stopped in front of us, glanced over Lucca, and gave him a curt nod.

“Champagne?”

Surprised by Lucca, I stood stunned when he reached for two crystal glasses.

I didn’t take a sip.

“It’s fine, Katia.” His lips moved against the rim.

“Was that one of—”

His eyes cut me off. “We aren’t alone.”

I took a sip and savored the bubbly and rich taste on my tongue.

Music played softly, ballads of classic tones that mixed well with conversations without overpowering the lies spoken. But after the fourth couple, I was growing tired of small talk.

Conversations that were forgettable by the next person. The men spoke, leaving the women to chat alone, as if I needed to talk about their recent vacation, or the new clothing line that had been released. And when the men finished, their plus one gushed over meeting me, expressing their happiness and joy for the delightful time they’d spent with me.

I never even spoke. Just a few nods, small smiles, and the occasional,“Of course.”

We moved from one end of the villa to the other in a historic mansion my eyes couldn’t stop appreciating. A structure that took me back to the Mediterranean Sea. Tall Spanish arches and greenery that swept inside in vines. Detailed tiles and stones merged together, reminding me of the countryside of Tuscany my grandfather would take me to visit when younger. It was old, beautiful, and every detail screamed wealth as did the people inside.

“How long do we have to stay?” I asked when their backs were far enough to hear.

“We’ll leave after the action.”

“When does it start?” I asked. I couldn’t keep up this charade for much longer. My body had grown stiff, hiding the pain inside.

Lucca chuckled darkly, and his hand seized my lower back.

He took me away from the chatter. Each step further away we took, the easier I could breathe in. It wasn’t until the humid air and breeze hit my skin that I relaxed.

Two females spoke far by the outside courtyard while we remained at a distance and under the low-lit and open porch by the corner.

“Did you take anything?”

“Hm?”

“Your body leans to your left. Your steps while graceful, drag. And your breathing is shallow.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, no one else can tell. All they can see is power and confidence.”

He knew. Of course he did. Lucca didn’t miss anything.

“It must have worn off.”

His eyes shifted to the door. “Whenever you are ready.”

I didn’t utter a word, and Lucca bathed in the shadows, leaning against a pillar, watching me.

Somehow his eyes unraveled me by the thought of seeing through me.

Could he see the decay within me? The spoiled feelings? How my survival persona promised to make it out alive even if it meant with blood staining my hands?

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