Chapter 89

LUCA

Nearly a week had passed since I’d gotten Veda back. I rarely saw her during the day, just a glance now and then as she went out to the kitchen, the pool, or grabbed a book from the shelves in the media room. Oftentimes she had a bottle of some kind of strong alcohol in her hands that she must’ve pilfered from my stash in the kitchen. She didn’t seem to have a preference as to what kind it was. The only one she spoke to was Lisa, and I would often catch her watching Veda with a worried expression.

At night, she was usually already in bed when I got there. The few times I’d arrived a little early, she’d barely said two words to me as she brushed her teeth and changed her clothes. Always hidden from me behind closed doors.

She barely spoke to me at all when we were alone, even if I asked her a direct question, so I had Enzo ask her about what had gone down while she was at Mario’s, thinking maybe she would open up to him. She told him everything she could remember about the apartment he’d taken her to and what she’d overheard him and his men talking about. When he asked her if he had hurt her, she’d given him the same answer she’d given me the night he’d dumped her at Lisa’s.

“Nothing that won’t heal.”

I didn’t push her for anything more, allowing her the time she needed to process everything that had happened. Except when we were in bed. Every night, I would get in beside her and pull her into my arms and hold her. And she would let me do it without argument. I never asked for anything else, but I needed that physical connection with her. And so did she, whether she knew it or not. I felt the way she would relax in my arms. How her breathing would even out. Sometimes she even let out a little moan of relief.

I think some part of me was afraid that if I didn’t give her some kind of a tether to hang onto, no matter how fragile, she would lose herself to the events of the last few months. And then I would lose her.

But by the second week she’d been home, my patience had worn thin. She’d done nothing but mope around this house for weeks, barely speaking and showing no interest in anything or anyone. She wasn’t trying to escape anymore. Wouldn’t even sit and have a cup of tea with Lisa like she used to. She was a fucking ghost haunting my home, even though she was walking and talking and breathing. And I couldn’t stand it. I wanted my vita back. She could scream at me if she needed to. Hit me. Run from me. I didn’t care. I could handle her emotions. What I couldn’t take anymore was watching this empty shell of a woman withdraw into herself until she disappeared.

That night, I finished my work early and was waiting for her when she came upstairs. She’d had enough time to be in her feelings. This shit was stopping now. She was here. She was alive. And maybe I was a selfish ass, but I wanted her back. I didn’t stop to analyze this driving force inside of me, or what it would mean for me and my position in the family if kept her as my own. I wasn’t weak for wanting a woman. I was fucking human. Every man I knew, including my father, constantly had a woman on his arm. So why the fuck was I the one he pointed his finger at? Was I less of a uomo muscoloso, less of a macho man, because I didn’t treat her like a whore?

As soon as she walked in, I rose from the end of the bed where I’d been waiting. “I’ve had enough of this. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She didn’t even look at me on her way to the closet to get her nightclothes.

“Veda. I’m fucking talking to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Her voice was quiet, subdued.

“Goddammit!” I stabbed my fingers into my hair. I was so done being patient with her. This shit was gonna stop. And it was gonna stop right fucking now, if it took us all damn night to hash through this shit.

She jumped at my outburst, her eyes flying to my face. For just an instant, I would swear there was a flash of fear there, but she quickly dropped them again and disappeared inside the closet. When she came out, a clean set of nightclothes in her hands, I was ready for her.

Stepping in front of the bathroom door, I held up my hand. “Stop.”

“I want to get changed.”

“You can do that when we’re done here.”

She heaved a heavy sigh, like I was wasting her fucking time, but stayed where she was.

I lowered my hand. “I’m not going to live like this anymore. In my own home. With you skulking about this house like a zombie or some shit.” I stopped abruptly. Tried to calm myself. Lowering my voice, I tried to catch her eyes. “Talk to me, Veda.”

Instead of doing as I asked, she clenched her jaw and stared at something on the wall behind me.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” I repeated, ducking my head so she had to look at me. But she turned her head, refusing to meet my eyes. “TALK to me.” My heart was pounding so loud in my ears I didn’t know if I’d even be able to hear her, and for a few seconds I thought she wasn’t going to answer me anyway. But then she squared her shoulders and her head snapped up. A storm of emotion darkened her gray eyes. At the sight of her like this, with her eyes flashing and her chest rising and falling with every rapid breath, my own blood ran fast in response, my cock swelling until the zipper of my pants dug into the tender flesh.

There she is.

“What’s the matter with me?” she asked incredulously. I could smell the vodka on her breath. “What’s the matter with me? Do I really need to spell it out for you, Luca? I don’t want to fucking be here! I don’t want to be anywhere near you. I want to go home! I want to live my life without being passed around like a…a…” She threw her hand in the air, floundering. “I’m a PERSON, dammit! I want to get the hell out of this house! Is that clear enough for you?”

Finally, we were getting somewhere. “That’s not going to happen. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why? Why not? Haven’t you done enough?”

She practically spit the words at me, and they hit me hard, right in the fucking gut. But I shoved down the pain they caused. She was just lashing out. “Because you belong here. With me. This is your home now.” I didn’t deserve her. I knew this. But by all that was holy, this woman was mine. And I wasn’t letting her go again.

She laughed out loud. “With you? The man who kidnapped me, dressed me up like another woman to parade around in front of his friends, and then planned to kill me for his petty revenge?” Her smile, beautiful and bitter as it was, fell from her face. “Why the hell would I ever choose to be anywhere near you?”

“Because I’m the only option you have!” The words burst from me in a fit of temper.

She stared up at me for a long time. “No,” she said softly. “No, you’re not.”