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"You killed that poor homeless man. Why did you do that? He's innocent."
Luca lets out a derisive laugh. "That man is not homeless or innocent. He works for an enemy of mine. Should I have allowed him to live so that he could come slit my throat in the middle of the night? Or worse, yours?"
"Did you have to kill him?"
He sets his hands on his hips and tilts his head to the side, looking at me in confusion. "You are the child of a Mafia Don. The sister of a Mafia Don. Surely, you know what happens in our world."
Of course I know about the life my brother leads, but this is different. "I've never seen my brother kill anybody." The only time I’ve witnessed someone kill was when Lucy shot Lou who at the time was planning to kill her, Elena, and me. That was self-defense. Luca killed a man who was on his knees begging for his life.
His expression softens. "I am sorry that I had to be the one to expose you to the darker side of Mafia life." He takes a step toward me, but I recoil.
“What is it, Aria?”
“You… you are a monster.”
He flinches and doesn’t seem to like what I’ve called him. But he gives me a smile. “Sometimes, my work requires such brutality, just as for your brother. But look at me now, Mio Angelo. Don’t you see the man who has waited so long to make you his?”
Roberta returns to the room carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. She sets them on a table near the window and then leaves.
Luca goes to the table and opens the bottle, pouring the bubbly into the glasses.
“I don’t want champagne,” I say.
He smiles as he holds a glass to me. “It’s Franciacorta, Italian champagne. Take the glass and we can talk.”
I recall that only sparkling wine from the Champagne region of France can be called champagne. Not that it matters now.
Deciding I’m better off to go along and hope he’ll arrange to send me home, I take the flute.
“To Mio Angelo. I’m so happy to have you here.” He clicks his glass against mine. He sips, watching me over the rim of his glass. I give in, taking a sip. This moment should be happy, even giddy. All I feel is stupidity for thinking I’d be walking into a fairy tale.
Luca steps away, sitting in the window seat. “So, tell me about your big escape and your grand adventure to get here.”
I look down into my glass. “I think it was a mistake.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I sit on the edge of the bed knowing I’m trapped. I explain how I snuck out of the house and through the garden. He laughs in delight, and there’s a lightness about it that I remember from our stolen moments over the last few months. I’m with the man I remember, but I can’t get the image of the callous, vicious man I just saw.
“I knew you’d get away. You’re very clever, resourceful. Adventurous.”
I shrug thinking about the statement, Be careful what you wish for.
“How was the flight? Bruno treated you well, did he not?”
I nod.
“I wish I could have been there, but if Niko knew I was in town, he’d keep a closer eye on you.”
I sigh and nod again.
“Thank you for your notes.”
I look up at him. How could the man who came up with the ingenious, ultra-romantic way to communicate so emotionlessly kill that poor man?
“I still have them.” He shakes his head and laughs. “They smell like you. I’m like a lovesick schoolboy.”
My heart squeezes, and I realize his words are seeping in, softening me to him. Maybe I’m overreacting. I mean, it’s not like I don’t know who is… what he is. Although I’ve never seen my brother kill someone who was begging for mercy, I have seen the same lethal expression on him, usually at times he was concerned about me or Elena.
