AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but being taught to shoot a gun was not it. The Di Salvos had their own indoor range, and the sound of the shots, even behind ear protection, made Alina nervous.
When Luka found them there, she’d wondered if he would want to take over her lessons. He’d rested against the wall instead, content to simply watch her.
The days began to run together. Breakfast in the kitchen, plenty of time to focus on her art, and daily lessons on how to shoot a gun. Alina was getting better at it, and Enzo was surprisingly patient. He had given her her own revolver, which he had switched to when she’d been too weak to change the clips on the other. There was something about putting the bullets in herself that both added to her nerves and calmed her.
Luka spent a lot of time with her. He was there when she woke up, already dressed and waiting. Nera’s pastries were a hit with him, though it wasn’t as if he smiled as he ate them. Alina knew he enjoyed the food by the way his shoulders relaxed. She couldn’t bring herself to cook with Nera, though, and liked to return to their room as quickly as possible.
He often watched her paint, and she began talking to him like she used to. She hadn’t been able to while she finished the Meg painting, but after she had done one of Frank as she wanted to remember him, smiling, her throat seemed to open again.
He’d stared at the one she finished of Giovanni, and Antonio’s words occurred to her again. Luka studied the Mafia boss whenever he was around. His gaze became even more intent when Giovanni was with his wife.
Alina thought Luka’s fascination with Giovanni was cute. His feelings for the other man didn’t cause the nervous current under her skin. The steady beat of time passing did that. Luka would disappear at times, and each day she expected him to say the words—to tell her he was truly leaving.
He hadn’t touched her since that morning in Giovanni and Nera’s bedroom, at least not like that. At first, she’d nervously wondered if he would. It wasn’t that he avoided touching her completely. His fingers wrapped around her wrist at night. Often she’d wake up from her nightmares with him stroking her face. During those weak moments, she couldn’t always hold herself back, and she would kiss him.
He didn’t run away from her kiss anymore, but she couldn’t say for sure that he was okay with it. She was too afraid to ask. Guilt filled her from doing it at all.
She found herself thinking about the way he’d made her feel that one time. The more days that passed, the more she began to panic that it would never happen again. That it would never go further. That he’d leave without her feeling him inside her, without him wiping away the nightmare.
About a week had passed since they’d begun their stay at the Di Salvo manor, and a day arrived when Luka wasn’t around at all. He was gone before she woke up, and Alina had to remind herself multiple times that he’d promised to tell her before he left for good. Not having him with her in the kitchen caused her to escape to her room early. She worked most of the day on a painting of him, only taking a break for target practice before losing herself in her art again.
Even with the distraction, her brain chanted at her that it was time. Luka hadn’t promised her forever. He had a life to return to. He might even be relieved to leave her.
Desperation clawed at her to find a way to be with him, just once. The more she was around him, the more her hands itched to touch him; to hold on to him tightly, even though she’d promised she wouldn’t.
The sudden thought that that was part of the problem made her step away from her newest painting. The pose she had chosen was one she loved. Luka crouched with his hand held out.
It was a picture of her trust in him. She’d never found a way to reciprocate it. Time after time, she proved he couldn’t trust her in return.
Even now, her hands twitched to touch him. If he returned—no, when he returned—she might break his boundaries yet again.
Alina thought about the likelihood of that while she ate dinner with Nera. It was better than thinking about how Luka still wasn’t there.
It was just the two of them. And Tommaso—Nera’s bodyguard, who was always somewhere in the background and acted like the type of parent Alina had once dreamed of having. Alina had been nervous around Tommaso at first; he was a very large man, larger than Antonio, but he was always happy and affectionate with Nera, nothing like the Bratva men she remembered.
He reminded her a little of Frank.
Everyone else was gone that night, not just Luka, but Alina couldn’t ask the question that pressed on her mind. She offered to help with the dishes, and they returned to the kitchen together. Alina shifted her eyes toward Tommaso, who stood outside the archway, before moving closer to where Nera waited with a towel to dry the few dishes they’d used. “Do you know where I could get rope?”
Nera stopped wiping the plate she held, her brow creasing as if the request made little sense to her. “Rope?”
Alina swallowed her nerves as her face heated. “Or string or something like that, something that could be used to… well… tie?” She stared down at her hands, wondering if she should lie and say it was for her art. She couldn’t say it was to tie herself up so Luka would feel safe.
A chuckle, one that she hated, came from over her head. Her flush faded, and a chill replaced it. She wished she could recall her words; only one person in this house laughed like that.
Her dislike for Antonio had only grown with time. She saw the way he bullied Luka whenever they were together. Luka never reacted to it, but she’d wanted to hit this particular Di Salvo more and more.
He leaned on the counter beside the sink, so near that she could feel his presence, though he was careful not to touch her. She wished she’d noticed him just a bit sooner. “You want to restrain that sweet little assassin of yours and force sexy times on him, don’t you?” Antonio asked, his head tilting down as he tried to get her to look at him.
“No!” Alina shouted it, startling Tommaso in the doorway. She stared down at her hands, clenched on the edge of the sink.
His voice lowered. “Come now, you can admit it. There’s no shame in it. I bet he’d even like it.” Another chuckle followed, and Antonio leaned closer. “I might have a pair of handcuffs that would be just the thing.”
Luka wouldn’t like it. Alina knew that well enough. She deserved to feel idiotic for this line of thinking, even if it was Antonio who made her realize it. She forced herself to meet his gaze; he’d bully her more if she didn’t.
His annoying grin tempted her to splash him with dirty sink water.
Nera’s voice kept her from doing it. “Antonio! Stop teasing Alina.” She moved between them, handing him the mostly dried plate. “Put this away instead.”
