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“Well little one, don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” Luca arrogantly asks as he leans against his bathroom bench with arms crossed. The blood has since dribbled down onto his chest. The drive to his apartment was silent. A million thoughts raced through my mind as to how I might be able to drive a wedge between the Armani brothers and draw Ivan back and return Luca to Italy.
“You really need stitches for that,” I say as I fish out some kind of medical kit Lorenzo found for me. Despite Lorenzo’s offer to assist, Luca sent him home.
“It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” He shrugs. It’s so casual it’s almost hard to believe I saw the killer only an hour ago, parading in that ring like it was his kingdom.
“Sit.” I instruct him to sit against the bathtub. “You’re too tall for me to reach.”
He does as I say. Even when he’s sitting, he’s barely shorter than me. I dampen the cloth. The gash looks deep and really should have stitches. At this point I’m guessing this asshole is immortal, and it’ll heal itself over night.
I press a warm cloth around the area, wiping away the blood. At least his split lip has stopped bleeding.
He grabs my wrist, those haunting blue eyes pinning me with a lethal stare. “Answers. Now.”
The problem with this situation being lies and truth. How much does he already know? What did Dmitri tell him. Part of me also doubts he told him all of the pieces or I’m certain I’d already be dead.
Partial truth perhaps. I sigh and fixate on cleaning his eyebrow. I hadn’t really said this out loud. It was the thing that was left unsaid in my upbringing and the hole only became bigger over time. Like a taboo topic. Then when I was old enough to understand, I realized everyone else had moved on. Except for me.
“When I was twelve, our house was broken into. My father was away on a business trip for a week. He did that often and left my mother and me behind.” I shrug my shoulders. “You probably already know all of this, so I don’t know why I’m telling you.”
His hand touches my elbow, drawing my attention back to him. “I want to hear it from you.”
A twisted knot of relief and guilt forms in the pit of my stomach. It’s almost hard to talk about it now but I try. “When our house was broken into that night, I was woken up by unusual noises. I left my bedroom to search for my mother. When I found her…” I try to clear my throat. “A man was standing over her limp body in our kitchen. Blood pooled all over the tiles, and I imagined she was probably trying to reach for a knife but he got to her first.”
I continue to pad around the edges of his wound. As if entranced while recalling the vivid memory. The same one haunts me when I close my eyes before sleep. “My mother and I were close. I’d always idolized her and in truth I was a shy child and she was in many ways my best friend. I was in shock and at the time couldn’t really comprehend what I was seeing. I remember calling out her name, but she didn’t move. I expected her to stand back up or tell me everything would be okay. It wasn’t and she did not get back up. Instead, I drew the attention of the man.
“When he turned around, he was wearing a white mask harboring dark, almost black eyes.” Luca doesn’t say anything but surely, he’s already connected the dots and association with his staff who wear those specific white masks. It was Armani tradition over the last four family heads to have a team of five who were called the hounds. “When the intruder approached me, I couldn’t even move. My feet were glued to the floor. He almost seemed…pleased. All I could do was stare at my mother’s unmoving body.”
“When he held a knife on me, I was stricken with so much fear and I knew I should run. That I should try to escape him, but my body just wouldn’t listen and I couldn’t move. I was so shocked and thought I was having some kind of nightmare. That’s where I got this scar.” I shift the leather collar of my shirt and show the three-inch scar.
“I don’t know why, but instead of ending me, he simply laughed, stood back up, and left. I don’t know how many hours it was until someone found me still cradling my mother. By then I was all cried out and waiting to wake up from the nightmare.”
Luca shifts and places me on his lap. The movement is intimate as I feel the sense of vulnerability into my own story. What therapists have called trauma. Yet despite the cruelty of Luca Armani, he’s the only one I’ve been able to relive that scene with and felt some kind of…peace. Barely. I don’t drown in it as much. As if he’s anchoring me and keeping me safe as I recall the vivid memory through a child’s lens. It’s been the fuel of my revenge for all these years. The only thing I’ve been able to cling to to get me through day by day. The only thing I found purpose in.
“My father remarried shortly after and moved on. I couldn’t. As years went by and I became a teenager everything about my mother and her presence had been wiped as if she never existed. The police called it a random break in, but I couldn’t shake the feeling it was something else.”
“So for years I looked into it. I focused on my studies, did as my father said. Finding out about that night became a lethal obsession. At first, I didn’t know where to start but as the years went by it became easier. I was able to start accessing portions of my father’s dealings and business partners. I’d realized financially he wasn’t doing so well prior to the break in. After my mother’s death a large amount of money was distributed into his businesses, which saved him from bankruptcy. I don’t know if this was inheritance from my mother, because I don’t know much about her family. Or whether he was in on it. That maybe it was a hit.”
I look at Luca now, realizing I’ve started absentmindedly dabbing at his lip. His jawline is tight and he still says nothing. Only listens. “It wasn’t until I met with Dmitri that my suspicions were confirmed and I discovered there was only one known family to wear masks.” His expression grows dark. “So I made a deal with him to ruin one of his oppositions. Mr. Dalian was making underhanded dealings with Dmitri’s estranged father. He needed someone to get close enough and unsuspecting to him, to obtain evidence of his illegal activities so it could be anonymously handed in. It broke his business and he barely escaped imprisonment. His legal business and partnerships left him after he was exposed in heavy scandal.”
I know Dmitri’s father is a part of the Bratva, but I’m willing to do what I have to for the information I am looking for. After all, I had been a nobody. Who would ever think a woman such as me could single handedly ruin such a powerful man. And there lay his weakness.
“My father’s very strict about where I travel. I’m especially not allowed to go international. I was never able to explore my mother’s heritage or discover any family from my mother’s side, if any at all. So I had to be cunning in the way I convinced him to let me stay here in New York. I needed to stay here for two months, so I pretended I had interest in my half-brother’s studies. He has an interest in sports and was doing summer camp here. So, I said I’d look after him. I knew my stepmother, Sarah, would’ve pushed my father’s hand to let me go. She’d always been hopeful we’d come together as some type of dysfunctional family.”
My father’s control since my mother’s passing was unhinged at best. He did the same to his new wife but promised all the riches and beauty of the world to his son. I’m certain my father never wanted me to stray far because of what happened to my mother and his involvement. I just needed final evidence of it.
“Once I succeeded, Dmitri advised me about the Armani family and with a friendly warning which I soon learned myself, considering you’re head of the mafia here. Although he never said that to me specifically, he just said you were dangerous and I should stay away.” I wipe under his chin. “When you found me in the mansion that night, I was looking for a contract, a trophy, a white-masked hound— anything that might lead me closer to confirming my suspicions about my father’s involvement. Suspecting my father and condemning him for it are two different things. I have an agreement with my father that I only have one year to prove myself before the prospect of marriage. Which means I only have a few more months to prove him guilty. You might think it’s stupid. However it's the only thing I’ve clung to since my mother was taken from me. I was the only one who cared. I need to put away the fucker who did this to her.”
My hand begins to trail down his chest, but he stops my palm over his heart.
“So you’re after the man who killed your mother as well?” Luca asks carefully.
Of course I am. But to let Luca in on that. To expose myself so deeply would get me killed now. I know who the killer is. If Luca knew who the ultimate target was, I’d be a dead man. “I want clarity. I want to expose my father for the monster he is with the proof of what he did.” Acid laces my tone. “Day in and day out people glorify his success. Success he built on my mother’s bones while taking any kind of safe and nurturing childhood I might’ve had. I hate him. And will not stop until I put him behind bars. I owe at least that much to my mother. So, she knows she’s not forgotten. I want to ruin him.”
My exhale comes out shaky. This is just as hard as when my father put me into those small rooms with psychologists, as he paid ridiculous amounts of money to ‘fix’ his daughter.
Luca doesn’t seem surprised by my confession. “I can do it for you. I can have him on his knees in front of you apologizing. Hell, I’d happily put a bullet in his head for you. However underhanded deals are made in secret for a reason. Not everything is traceable, Ara.”
“If you could. What would you want from me?” I ask quietly. “I’ve only known how to get to where I am today by lying and sneaking around. Ruining people’s lives so I can see this through to the end. Even if you put a gun to my head. I can’t stop.”
