Chapter 21 ON THE LINE.
\~~~RAINA.
It was as if he hadn’t just said something so twisted as that, Luciano loosened his grip on me, and then slowly caressed my hair.
“Let’s go have dinner.”
With that, he walked away, and I just stood still, slightly touching my neck.
Wait, what was I supposed to wear around the house?
A suit, or what?
Oh, God.
For a long second, I just stood there, my fingers grazing the skin of my neck where his hand had been. The warmth still lingers, crawling down my spine in a way I absolutely should not enjoy.
My feet feel glued to the floor and it takes effort, real effort to finally move myself away from that spot and move. I inhale, straighten my spine, and force my legs to function like a normal human being’s. One careful step and then another, each one feeling strangely heavy, like the air around me has thickened somehow.
Luciano walks ahead of me, his shoulders broad, and posture relaxed in that infuriatingly confident way, as though he didn’t just threaten to butcher someone and then fuck me until I break. He didn’t look back, not even once. He simply assumes I will follow.
And of course, I did.
But I keep my distance… a safe distance. Or at least, what my stupid brain thinks is safe. Several feet separate us as we move through the dim hallway, the soft lights brushing over the walls, and the sound of his footsteps steady and unbothered.
By the time we step into the massive dining space, my palms feel clammy. The long table is set with dishes that look like they belong in some luxury restaurant as the delicacies were steaming softly, the aromas rich enough to make someone starving faint.
But me?
I feel nothing.
No hunger and no appetite. Just the tension which was thick and suffocating.
Luciano takes his seat at the head of the table, silent, and composed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look at me. Not even once. Not even after I sit down a few chairs away, leaving more space than necessary.
I stare at the food, poke it with my fork and I move it around, swirling, and dragging it. My stomach is twisted into a knot, and the aroma of the food makes it worse.
Still… he didn’t look up.
I shake the plate slightly, nudging a piece of chicken, shifting a slice of something I don’t even recognize. My nerves are so loud that I almost flinch when I finally hear his voice.
“Eat your fucking food,” he hisses, his head lifting at last.
His eyes lock onto mine coldly, and impatiently. The kind of stare that slices straight through excuses.
“You are not a baby.”
The words stab something inside me. Shame? Annoyance? Embarrassment?
All of the above.
My throat tightens, and I grip my fork a little too hard. “I… I am eating,” I mumble, though I am clearly doing the exact opposite.
He raises one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Then eat.”
God, fine.
Very reluctantly, I brought a piece of food to my mouth. The taste barely registers as I chew slowly, swallow, and then repeat, each movement mechanical and joyless.
Luciano watches for a few seconds, his gaze steady and demanding, as if my eating is some test I must pass.
Only after I force down a few more bites does he look away again, returning to his own meal with calm, and smooth movements. Unlike me, he eats normally, and efficiently, everything I am not right now.
I tried, I truly did, but my stomach can’t take much. The more I push food around, the tighter everything coils inside me. Eventually, I gave up.
I place the fork down, push my plate back gently, and breathe out a shaky exhale.
“I am done,” I whisper.
I didn’t wait for his reaction. I didn’t even look at him as I stood up quickly, and stepped away from the table with stiff movements. My heart beats too loudly in my ears as I exit the dining room, refusing to look back or acknowledge whatever expression might be on his face.
All I want right now is distance from the man.
Distance from the thoughts he puts in my head and distance from the chaos he leaves behind wherever he walks.
But even as I walk down the hallway alone with my heart pounding…
I still feel him clinging to me like heat.
And like a shadow I can’t outrun.
____
I close the door so gently behind me like I am afraid he might hear it if I slam it too hard and come after me again.
For a moment, I just stand there, staring at nothing. Then my eyes drift to my phone on the bedside table.
My mom.
Maybe hearing her voice will calm me. Maybe she will pick up and then give me some good news, in fact.
I snatch the phone and dial her number, pressing it against my ear like it is my lifeline. The ringing started and for a while, I closed my eyes.
No answer.
My shoulders drop as the ringing cuts off, leaving me in that cold silence that feels worse than shouting.
My throat burns and just then another stupid idea crawls up my brain.
Talia.
Of course, I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. Her number hasn’t worked since that horrible day. Every time I tried, it went straight to voicemail. Every single time.
This won’t go through too, it never does.
So it doesn’t matter if I try again… right?
Maybe I just… want to see it fail, so I can accept it and move on.
So, I bit my lip, breathed in, and then clicked on her name.
The phone dials and I waited
But then…
It rings.
My heart stops, like, actually stops, and then my hand flies to my mouth as a tiny gasp escapes me. My legs weaken so suddenly that I have to sit on the edge of the bed or I will fall.
It is ringing.
It is really ringing.
“Talia?” I whisper to no one, my eyes wide, tears already gathering.
Before I can even think, the call connects.
There was a quiet click, a breath and then a man’s voice came up “Hi.”
I freeze, every last piece of air slipping out of my lungs.
My voice is gone, completely gone and all I hear is my pulse hammering in my ears, loud and frantic.
Why is a man answering?
Who is he? Where is Talia?
I swallow hard, my lips trembling. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a shaky, terrified breath.
Then I hear a muffled sound and the man’s voice again, louder this time, “Talia!”
“Babe, someone is on the line!”
And I swear, I felt the world tilt.