Chapter 14 The moment I saw Her
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What a day!
The words settled in my mind as I sank into the chair in my study, rubbing my face with both hands. The house is quiet now. It's too quiet that it feels like my thoughts are louder.
My head still carried the noise of everything that happened today, yet the image that refused to fade was Luciana walking down the aisle.
She looked breathtaking in a way that punched the air out of my chest. Not in the polished, perfect way people talk about brides. More like she carried her own weather, with a calm face and steady steps. Those eyes that never let you read what she feels unless she wants you to.
Something flickered inside me at that moment. Warm, unfamiliar, and unwelcome. I still didn’t know what name to give it.
Then came the kiss.
Her lips looked soft in a dangerous way, the kind that could pull a man into believing foolish things. I kissed her quickly on purpose. If I lingered even a second, it would feel like I was taking something that wasn’t mine to take. And I wasn’t sure I trusted myself not to.
While she was greeting her brothers goodbye, I kept waiting for a crack, a tremble, or a tear. Something. I had thought she would shed tears when she stood with her brothers, but she still managed to look strong. Stronger than she should have needed to be.
My phone buzzes on the table, screen flashing with a message I ignore. My mind pulls somewhere else entirely—toward the book I’d found in Adrian’s room. The one that changed my expression before I could hide it. I pulled it from the drawer and opened the first page.
There it is again.
The handmade sketch.
Luciana’s face, drawn with slow, careful strokes. Her hair loose, her eyes soft. Adrian captured a version of her I have never seen. Maybe he saw her that way, or maybe she let him. The first time I opened the book, the drawing had knocked the breath out of me. Seeing it now did the same.
Was this a journal he kept for her? A quiet confession my brother never voiced?
I stay on that page longer than I should, then finally turn it.
“She likes honey in her tea, no lemon.”
I blink.
Honey, no lemon. Who writes that down?
Another page.
“She prefers the window open at night.”
I feel something tighten in my chest. I hadn’t even thought about her side of the bed… or which side she would choose. This man wrote down things I never paid attention to.
Next page.
“She dreams of a world where females get to dream big in the mafia.”
That one hits differently. No softness in the words, just truth. Luci always looked like she wanted more than the space she was given. Even at the wedding, standing there with that straight back and that fearless chin, she looked like someone who knew exactly what she deserved but kept getting less of it.
I flip again.
“She’s scared of spiders.”
I stare at the line. Then I actually laugh. A short, surprised sound leaves me without warning.
Princess Luciana Moretti… scared of spiders.
The same woman who could stare down a room full of Underwood bosses without blinking. The same woman who kept her chin up even while being forced into a marriage she did not ask for. A spider. That tiny, harmless thing.
I shake my head, still smiling. The laugh fades into a smaller breath. Adrian must have cared. A lot. No man writes down this much unless something in him refuses to forget.
My thoughts drift backward, uninvited.
Italy.
The last trip we took before everything went to hell.
Adrian was pacing back and forth because the deal was dragging longer than expected. He kept checking the time, complaining about being late for his date with Luci. Ranting about how she hated unreliable people and how he didn’t want to stand her up. He was tense, nervous, and out of character.
I teased him about being whipped. He didn’t even deny it. He just rolled his eyes and tried to act like it didn’t matter, but it did. I saw it then, and I see it now.
My hand rests on the edge of the journal. For a second, I consider reading more. Then I close it.
Yet… something nudges at me.
A quiet instinct.
I flip to the very last page.
At the bottom right corner, almost hidden in the crease of the binding, there is a single line in Adrian's handwriting. Scribbled fast as if he wrote it in a rush. As if he knew it didn’t belong anywhere else.
Just one sentence.
“If something happens to me… they won’t stop with me.”
My breath pauses.
What the hell is this?
Did my brother know something would happen to him?
And why did he write it like he knew he would not live long enough to explain?
The stillness in the study feels heavier now. I stare at the words until they blur, until my chest tightens in a way I don’t like.
There were things Adrian never told me. I always felt that.
Now the book sits on my lap like proof.
Something happened to him, and he saw it coming.
Something he thought would spread beyond him.
I close the diary slowly, my fingers pressing hard into the cover.
If he knew he was in danger… Why didn’t he say anything?
And who the hell are “they”?
The quiet answers nothing.
And somehow, that makes everything louder.