he wants to get married immediately,” I stressed. “You guys have upended my life all in a matter of twenty-four hours and, if that’s not enough, now you want to bind me to him for life?”
Luca’s chin went up and the power radiating from him was overwhelming. Gone was the boy who taught me how to climb trees. Gone was the boy who let me hold him. Gone was the young man who never smiled, but still found some joy in life.
The man standing before me was-to quote Robbie-Luca freakin’ Benetti.
“You were always bound to Phoenix for life, Francesca,” he retorted, a little heat in that smooth, sinister voice of his. “Six years hasn’t changed that.”
I stood up because I felt like sitting before him weakened my position. I knew, intellectually, whether I stood or sat didn’t make a difference, but I still felt better standing. His smirk told me he knew exactly why I stood up.
“Are you telling me you can’t appreciate just how…overwhelming this all is?” I pleaded. “You show up, out of the blue, to tell me Massimo is dying, then I’m reunited with my brother, only to have Phoenix take me home and announce this entirely new life you guys have carved out for me. Marriage, Luca?”
“If you came here to ask me to get you out of marrying Phoenix, you’re wasting your time, Francesca,” he replied. “You guys are to be married on Friday in Massimo’s hospital room. Ciro is giving you away, and Massimo will be Phoenix’s Best Man.”
“And what are you supposed to be?” I snapped.
“Your Maid-of-Honor,” he deadpanned.
“I’m serious, Luca!” I did not find this funny. I hated that they were treating me like a mindless puppet. I hated that they were taking away all my choices.
“So am I!” he roared, losing his patience and composure. He straightened to his full height, and he was every bit the Mob Underboss that I’ve heard about.
“Luca-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Francesca,” he bit out. “You dare to come here with branding all over your neck and tell me you don’t want to marry Phoenix?” I felt myself shrink even though I tried not to. “Don’t tell me you no longer love him because we’ll both know you’re lying.”
“I never said I didn’t love him anymore,” I replied, revealing more than I was ready to. “I…I just…it’s just so much too fast, Luca.”
“Not by our accounts, Francesca,” he threw back “We’ve been waiting six years for you to get over your fucking temper tantrum. Six fucking years. You walked out and left us hanging for six fucking years. You left Ciro without love. You left me without a compassion. And you left Phoenix without a soul. Don’t fucking tell me it’s too much too fast!”
“You guys-”
“I know we fucked up,” he barked. “I know we did. And, yes, we deserved your wrath. But we did not deserve for you to abandon us forever!”
“So, this is my punishment?” I asked, bewildered, and confused. “Is this some kind of payback?”
Luca deflated in front of me and ran his fingers through his hair. When he looked at me, he looked weary, and I knew this was the Luca no one got to see, but me. “Christ, no, Francesca,” he replied. “This is not a punishment or some kind of payback. This is us finally caving. This is us begging for fucking mercy.”
My heart broke with that statement.
“Luca…”
He walked towards me, grabbed my arm, and led me to the couch on the left side of the room. We sat down, and he angled our bodies so that we could look at each other, our knees touching. His face was soft, and this was the boy who used to climb through my window. “Francesca, you have no idea what your leaving did to us. Nothing filled the gaping hole that you left behind and, believe me, we tried everything.” My mind automatically went to drugs, alcohol, and women. “Me, Ciro, and Phoenix climb the ladder in record time because we spent every waking moment doing whatever we needed to keep from missing you. But nothing worked.” He let out dark laugh. “We reached the top and our lives were still empty.”
“You guys hurt me,” I whispered lamely.
“Not half as badly as you hurt us,” he responded quietly.
“Do you hate me?” I didn’t think he did, but I couldn’t take it for granted that he didn’t.
“No, Francesca. I don’t hate you.” He reached over and squeezed me knee. “You’re my