Page 47 of My Sunfall

What about… Lucas? Will you leave him behind again? a tiny voice inside me whispers. I try to ruthlessly smother it, but uncertainty makes my brain glitch. I still don’t know what we are, or if there is even a we. Probably not, I tell myself. Him sneaking in and out of my room and hiding like a thief in the dead of night proves that this is nothing. Just a phase, an infatuation he will be over with soon. And when that happens, I’ll be the one left in ashes. I will talk to him soon, I vow. Tell him that this, whatever this is, can’t go on and we should put a stop to it and part ways amicably. It should be simple, I tell myself, ignoring the tightening of my chest and the nagging voice inside calling me a liar.

* * * *

The echo of the church bells rings heavy and final in the morning air. Lily and I walk arm in arm, draped in black, steps slow and eyes downcast. I can sense everyone’s eyes on us, on me, not on the coffin. I can see the speculations glinting in some gazes, the pitying looks in others, all of them measuring how long the now vulnerable Bianchi heiress will be able to keep the wolves at bay without a male figure to shield her.

I raise my chin and straighten my shoulders. Let them speculate. My eyes wander to the coffin as it is being carried to Father’s last resting place. The ground is soft beneath my heels as I follow, Lily’s fingers intertwined in mine. Then the priest’s voice drones on and on, his solemn words floating in the morning air. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Lily and I move forward, each holding a white rose we lay on the gleaming lid.

“Goodbye, Father,” I whisper. “You are with Mother now.” Then I turn, and that’s when I spot him. Lucas is standing tall in the gathered crowd, his unwavering gaze locked on me, somber and unreadable. My steps falter for a second, but I manage to regain composure and return to my designated spot, allowing the crowd to move forward to pay their last respects as the coffin is being lowered into the ground.

“Miss Bianchi,” a voice comes from my right, low and unfamiliar. I glance over and find myself looking at a man I have never seen before. He looks to be in his forties, clad in an impeccable tailored suit, his black hair slicked back, his smile polite. His gray eyes are boring into me.

“Yes?” I say tentatively, racking my brain to determine if I have met him before.

“Please accept my condolences for your loss.”

I nod, but don’t reply, and he inclines his head and moves closer.

“Please forgive the intrusion on such a solemn day. My name is Lorenzo Vitale, I came from Chicago to pay my respects.”

I search his face, trying to place him, but nothing stirs. I nod nevertheless. “You knew my father?”

A flicker passes over his features, but it is so fleeting I am not sure of what I saw. When I look again, his face shows nothing but solemness.

“We were… business partners of a sort,” he says with a polite smile.

I clutch my hands together in front of me, forcing a small polite smile back on my face. Suddenly a large, warm palm spans over my lower back. I straighten.

Lucas.

Lorenzo’s gaze lifts to the man standing behind me and his smile freezes. “Who are you?”

“Lucas,” comes the deep growl from behind me. “Lucas Romano.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flash with recognition. “Ah, Santaluccia’s right hand,” he drawls.

“And you are?” comes Lucas’ wry reply.

“Lorenzo Vitale, from Chicago. A business associate of the Bianchi family. Which is why I need a word with Miss Bianchi. Alone.”

I frown, ready to ask what his business is when Lucas’ voice cracks like a whip, making heads turn our way. “Not gonna happen.” He takes a step closer, the threat and the claim unmistakable as his hand spreads wider over my back.

Lorenzo watches him coldly, the air between them feels like it might ignite. “This is nothing of your concern, this business is between Miss Bianchi and me.” He turns to me. “And it is not a request, it is urgent. Your father left matters unfinished and I’m afraid they can’t wait.”

“Very well,” I reply quickly before Lucas can say anything. “Meet me at the villa after the funeral.” He stiffens behind me, but remains silent.

“Excellent.” Lorenzo smiles and inclines his head. “Until later then, Miss Bianchi.”

I watch his retreating back, wondering what could be this important for a man of our circle to break protocol and request a business meeting the day of a funeral.

Whatever it is, I have a bad feeling.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chiara

Lucas had insisted on driving me back to the villa and there was nothing I could do to deter him. The air is tense as he drives, jaw grinding and hands clasped so tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles turned white.