Chapter 5

*five years ago*

The sky over the garden was ash-grey, heavy with the scent of impending rain. Emilia leaned against the wrought iron railing of the veranda, watching Isadora smoke with a kind of theatrical melancholy, like she knew it would be the last time they stood together like this.

“You always disappear when things get real,” Emilia said, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Isadora didn’t look at her. She exhaled a curl of smoke, eyes following it as if it might spell her fate. “I don’t disappear. I retreat. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics.”

Isadora finally turned, her face unreadable. “No, survival.”

Emilia stepped forward. “Isadora, if you’re in trouble—”

“I’m always in trouble,” Isadora interrupted, her voice tired but edged with amusement. “But it’s never the kind you can fix with one of your well-organized plans”

Emilia’s face fell. “So that’s it? You just go off the grid? Not even a goodbye?”

“I left you something,” Isadora said, flicking the end of her cigarette. “Prepaid cards from that shop in Barcelona you liked. The one with the hand-pressed paper and the sad poems.”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s the best I can do.”

“It’s the best you can do?? Father just got killed, you and dad never let me on what was going on, and now you’ve decided that what’s best for me, for us! is to live separate lives!” Tears slid down her eyes to her chin, the pain in her voice was from years of being shutout by her father, her brother and her own twin sister.

Isadora stepped down from the veranda, heels crunching against the gravel, she hugged Emilia and they went to their room. They stayed up late reliving old memories, talking old crushes and present ones too. Emilia eventually slept off and Isadora out the blanket over her, she leaned and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll always find a way to say happy birthday. Even if I can’t stay to say I’m sorry.”

Then she was gone.

When Emilia woke up the next day she couldn’t find Isa anywhere, deep down she knew her sister had left her and this time she wasn’t sure she would be back.

*present day*

Emilia was back in kitchen looking for her mama. 

“What are you doing here Emilia?” Her mother asked

“I came to get what to eat.” The mother shook her head in disagreement 

“I mean here in this house Emilia, with Luca Rossi”

“Isa stole from him mama, and he saw me in an art exhibit and thought I was her. He brought me here because he thought I stole from him. That I am Isa.”

Her mother stayed quiet while fixing her a plate of food to eat. Emilia wiped away the tear that threatened to escape from her eyes.

“You’ve always been so weak Emilia, so soft, that’s why your papa and I always kept you out of the family business.”

Emilia wanted to stay quiet but she couldn’t, she had been told all her life that she was the weak one, too soft, that she needed to be safe, that she needed to take care of herself and not worry.

“I was the one who almost got swallowed in the womb and survived. I didn’t breathe for 3 minutes and still survived that. I’ve survived being blamed for the death of Arianna when in truth it was because you guys kept me out of the loop that caused her death.” Her eyes are red-rimmed, swollen, the remnants of mascara streaking down her cheeks. 

“So if you ask me why I am here, I am here because your favorite daughter stole from a mafia don and unfortunately for me I look exactly like her, so automatically I am a thief and if not me, a sister to one.”

She wipes her eyes roughly and storms out of the kitchen.

Emilia stood at the edge of the veranda, her hands loosely wrapped around a porcelain teacup now gone cold. The scent of bougainvillea drifted in on a warm evening breeze, mixing with the faint hum of crickets. Below her, the compound stretched wide and golden under the fading light—neatly swept gravel paths, and  the steady rhythm of sprinklers ticking across the garden.

She didn’t turn when she heard the soft footfalls behind her.

“Strange to find you here. Very different from the tall shelves of book you’re usually surrounded with.” Marco said, stepping beside her, his voice low, familiar.

She gave him a glance and a faint smile. “You know me too well already.”

For a moment, they just stood there, letting the quiet settle between them like dusk. Then Marco leaned on the railing, elbows resting against the warm wood.

“Did you……..did you meet my sister when she was here?”

“You mean when she came to steal?, I sure did.”

“You may look like her, but everyone who met her, and has met you can clearly see you guys are different but the same.”

“ and for your real question, she did it,” he said after a beat. “Your sister came with the sole purpose of stealing that flash drive from Luca.”

Emilia’s smile had faded. She looked out over the compound again, more thoughtful now. “And no one saw her leave?”

Her question had been one that had been asked repeatedly over the years with no answer still. 

“Before we realized she was gone, it had been at least an hour.”

“What was on it?” Emilia asked, though she already had a feeling. A sick one, coiling low in her gut.

Marco exhaled. “Contains very important information about the business, also it has so many people’s identity that shouldn’t be known to enemies”

She let the silence stretch, unsure what felt heavier—the heat of the evening or the weight of what Isa had done.

“The moment she started working with papa, I couldn’t understand anymore” she said finally. “She used to cry if someone stepped on a flower.”

Marco shrugged. “Maybe she still would. 

“Another question…..” she hesitated “ Noona Peppina…….she’s Luca’s grandmother?”

“No. She was here when he was really young, she basically raised him like hers.”

“So she’s not from here.”

“No. Nobody really knows where she’s from, why’d you ask?”

“She makes excellent Italian meals, plus I heard Luca call her noona. Just curious.”

“Curious about her or about Luca” Marco was the complete opposite of Luca, very easy going, very friendly, only uptight when he was around Luca. Or maybe this was his and Luca’s plan to find out if she hears from her sister. Either ways she was happy that someone was talking to her.

“It’s okay Emilia, everyone falls in love with him.”

“Did you just confess to loving Luca Marco?!?!” she teased him. “I can totally see it working out between you guys”

They both laughed it off and went back into the house.

On her way back to her room, she had the sudden urge to see Luca, she wanted to hear from him hat it was like to have her mother raise him, she had seen her mother love her siblings more than her, but Luca was a stranger and the love she had seen from both of them in the kitchen made her more curious. 

Emilia had knocked three times already, each one sharper than the last. The hallway outside Luca’s room was dim, lit only by the golden wash of a single sconce near the stairwell. The rest of the house was quiet, too quiet.

She raised her hand to knock again—hesitated—then rapped once more, firmly.

“Luca, I know you’re in there.”

A beat passed. Then, the click of a lock. The door creaked open an inch, then swung wider to reveal him—Luca, standing barefoot on the wood floor, hair wet and curling slightly at the edges, a white towel knotted low around his waist. Steam still clung to his skin like a second layer, and a single droplet traced a path down his chest.

Emilia blinked, but didn’t look away.

Luca arched a brow, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of surprise behind his eyes. “Emilia.”

She crossed her arms, trying to stay composed, though her voice had a tremble she hated. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“I was in the shower.”

“For an hour?”

He gave a half-shrug, leaned against the doorframe. “It’s quiet in there.”

She frowned, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was heavy and unresolved.

“I need to talk to you,” she said finally, her tone softer now. 

Luca’s jaw tightened. He looked past her, down the hall, as if weighing something.

“Where you really outside for an hour?” he said. 

“No. or maybe I was. How would I know, you’ve taken all my gadgets away from me and I have no sense of time or day.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” his voice was low, controlled, tired a bit.

“No, it’s about Isa.” His voice was sharp, and for a moment Emilia thought he’d close the door in her face. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back, leaving the door open as an invitation for her to step in. 

She hesitated just a moment longer, then crossed the threshold. The room was warm from the shower, the air thick with the scent of soap and something distinctly him—amber and cedar. She stood awkwardly near the desk while he grabbed a blue shorts from the back of a chair and pulled up to his waist, not bothering to dry off first.

“I don’t want to talk about your sister today. Whatever information you have, just let Marco know” he said without turning around.

She walked closer to him, noticing a fresh cut on the low end of his waist. She used her hand to trace the edges of it.

Luca turned around to face her, eyes dark, guarded. “What are you doing?”

“You’re hurt….and I wanted to—”

“I know that, you wanted to what. Help me.” he let out a mocking laugh. “Were you a nurse before I brought you here?”

 “No” she responded, annoyed “but I always helped my papa, and brother clean up their injuries whenever they got hurt, which they did very often.”

She was already turning to leave when he grabbed her hands and swung her around to face him. Her hands were now touching his very chiseled chest, her mind quickly remembered the image of him and the girl from the room across hers. She tried to free herself from his grip, but he was stronger and bigger.

Luca untied the rope that held her little sundress together which revealed her black lace bra, and a matching panty. Her nipples were hard from his stare, and the heat between them intensified. He kissed her neck down to her nipples, sucking it lightly with the fabric as the only demarcation between his mouth and her breast. She let out soft moans as she buried her hands in his damp hair. 

He carried her into the bed, gently slipping his hands into her panties, his fingers found their way between her wetness and without warning he drilled them into her opening. Her moans became louder with each stroke, leaving her more wanting and needy. Her hand found its way down to his shorts, and as she tried to peel it off his skin he stopped her.

“Do you want this?” he asked

Emilia nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yes.”

Luca removed his hand from her pant, standing up and heading straight for his cigar on the bedside table. “You should leave.”

Silence stretched between them again—long, fragile.

Emilia shamefully exited his room with tears rolling down her cheek.