“We have to leave,” Father called. Gravel crunched.
I lifted my face. Mother walked up to us, briefly touched my cheek, then took Lily’s arm and led her away from me. Another piece of myself gone. Gianna didn’t loosen her iron grip on me.
“Gianna!” Father’s voice was like a whip.
She raised her head, eyes red, her freckles standing out even more. We locked gazes and for a moment neither of us said anything. “Call me every day. Every single day,” Gianna said fiercely.
“Swear it.”
“I swear,” I choked out.
“Gianna, for Christ’s sake! Do I have to come get you?”
She backed away from me slowly, then she whirled around and practically fled into the car. I walked a few steps after them as their car drove down the long driveway. Neither of my sisters turned around.
I was relieved when they finally turned a corner and were gone. I cried for myself for a while and nobody interrupted me. I knew I wasn’t alone. At least, not in the physical sense.
When I finally turned around, Luca and Matteo stood on the steps behind me. Luca stared at me with a look I didn’t have the energy to read. He probably thought me pathetic and weak. That was the second time I’d cried in front of him. But today hurt worse. He came down the steps while Matteo stayed behind.
“Chicago isn’t the end of the world,” Luca said calmly.
He couldn’t understand. “It might as well be. I’ve never been separated from my sisters and brother.
They were my whole world.”
Luca didn’t say anything. He gestured at his car. “We should leave. I have a meeting tonight.”
I nodded. Nothing kept me here. Everyone I cared about was gone.
“I’ll be behind you,” Matteo said, then headed for a motorcycle.
I sank into the taupe colored leather seats of the Aston Martin. Luca closed the door, walked around the hood and settled behind the steering wheel.
“No bodyguard?” I asked tonelessly.
“I don’t need bodyguards. Romero is for you. And this car doesn’t exactly have room for additional passengers.” He started the engine, the deep rumbling filling the inside. I faced the window as we drew away from the Vitiello mansion. It felt surreal that my life could change so drastically because of a wedding. But it had, and would only change further.
CHAPTER NINE
The drive to New York passed in silence. I was glad Luca hadn’t tried to make conversation. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and sadness. Soon skyscrapers rose up around the car as we crept through New York at a glacial pace. I didn’t care. The longer the drive took the longer I could pretend I didn’t have a new home, but eventually we pulled into an underground garage. We got out of the car without a word and Luca took our bags from the trunk. Most of my belongings had already been brought to Luca’s apartment a few days ago but this would be the first time I saw where he lived.
I lingered next to the car as Luca headed for the elevator doors. He glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. “Thinking about running?”
Every single day.
I walked up to him. “You would find me,” I said simply.
“I would.” There was steel in his voice. He jabbed a card into a slot and the elevator doors glided open, revealing marble, mirrors and a small chandelier. The elevator made it clear that this wasn’t a normal apartment building. We stepped inside, and nerves twisted my stomach.
I’d been alone with Luca last night and during the ride here but the thought of being alone in his penthouse was somehow worse. This was his kingdom. Who was I kidding? Pretty much all of New York was his empire. He leaned against the mirrored wall and watched me as the elevator began its ascend. I wished he’d say something, anything really. It would distract me from the panic rising up my throat. My eyes flitted to the screen showing which floor we were on. We were already on floor twenty and hadn’t stopped yet.
“The elevator is private. It leads only to the last two floors of the building. My penthouse is at the top and Matteo has his apartment on the floor below.”
“Can he come into our penthouse whenever he wants?”
Luca scanned my face. “Are you scared of Matteo?”
“I’m scared of the both of you. But Matteo seems more volatile while I doubt you’d ever do anything you don’t want to do. You seem like someone who’s always firmly in control.”
“Sometimes I lose control.”
I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, avoiding his eyes. That was information I didn’t need to know.
“You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Matteo. He’s used to coming over to my place whenever he wants, but things will change now that I’m married. Most of our business takes place somewhere else anyway.”
The elevator beeped and came to a stop, then the doors slid apart. Luca gestured for me to step out first. I did and immediately found myself in a huge living space with sleek white sofas, dark hardwood floors, a modern glass and metal fireplace, black sideboards and tables, as well as avant-garde chandeliers. There was hardly any color at all, except for a few pieces of modern art on the walls and art pieces made from glass. But the entire wall facing the elevator was glass.
The windows opened the view toward a terrace and roof garden, and beyond that skyscrapers and Central Park. The ceiling opened up above the main part of the living area and a staircase led up to the second floor of the penthouse.
I walked farther into the apartment and tilted my head up. Glass banisters allowed a clear view of the upper floor: a bright gallery with several doors branching off of it.
An open kitchen took up the left side of the living area and a massive black dining table marked the border between dining and living area. I could feel Luca’s eyes on me as I took everything in. I approached the windows and peered out. I’d never lived in an apartment; even a roof garden didn’t change the fact that it was a high prison.
“Your things are in the bedroom upstairs. Marianna wasn’t sure if you wanted to put them away yourself, so she left them in your suitcases.”
“Who’s Marianna?”
Luca came up behind me. Our gazes met in the reflection in the window. “She’s my housekeeper.
She’s here a couple of days per week.”
I wondered if she was also his mistress. Some men in our world actually dared to insult their wives by bringing their whores into their own home. “How old is she?”
Luca’s lips twitched. “Are you jealous?” He rested his hands on my hips and I tensed. He didn’t pull away, but I could see anger crossing his face. But I also noted that he didn’t answer my question.
I stepped out of his hold and headed for a glass door leading out onto the roof garden. I turned to Luca. “Can I go outside?”
His jaw was tight. He wasn’t stupid. He had noticed how quickly I’d shaken off his touch. “This is your home now too.”
It didn’t feel that way. I’m not sure it ever would. I opened the door and stepped outside. It was windy and distant honking carried up from the streets below. White lounge furniture took up the terrace but beyond it a small well-kept garden stretched out toward a glass barrier. There was even a square in-ground Jacuzzi big enough for six people. Two sunchairs were set up beside it. I strode toward the edge of the garden and let my gaze wander over Central Park. It was a beautiful view.
“You’re not thinking about jumping, are you?” Luca asked, gripping the banister beside me.
I tilted my face up to him, trying to gauge if this was his attempt at humor. He looked serious. “Why would I kill myself?”
“Some women in our world see it as their only way to gain freedom. This marriage is your prison.”