Chapter 191 194

Chapter 191 194
“If the girl wants to drink, let her drink!” Adriano says as he gets up. “Besides, I’ve got a good bottle in the rack. You’ll love it. It’s French.”

In the kitchen, he pops open a bottle of wine and pours out a glass for each of us, chuckling to himself the whole time like he’s just made the world’s funniest joke.

When he comes back in and hands it to me, I take a sip, my nose wrinkling at the unfamiliar taste.

“It grows on you,” Adriano assures me.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

I shrug and take another sip—spoiler: not much better than the first—before I help myself to a second slice of pizza.

The conversation meanders into a different topic. I’m not upset about the respite from thinking about all my problems.

As I eat, I listen to Adriano and Vanessa bicker over some silly little thing regarding the apartment. The energy between them is laced with affection.

I realize that Xander and I didn’t really argue when we were together.

I used to think that was a good thing.

But now, I’m starting to see that maybe we didn’t argue because we didn’t really care.

Maybe hate and love and anger and passion are all knotted up together. Different sides of the same coin. Different lines of the same song.

I thought I despised Lucio when I first met him.

Now, it’s something else entirely. Something bigger. Something deeper.

I miss him. Even when I’m pissed at him, I miss him.

There’s no getting around it anymore.

Maybe Vanessa is right.

Maybe it’s time to set aside the games once and for all, sit down, and talk to him. Tell him how I really feel.

Put a name on whatever we are.

On whatever we feel.

Just the thought fills me with dread and fear.

But maybe this risk is one worth taking.

43

Lucio

The Mazzeo Mansion

“Where the fuck is she?” I demand.

Giovanni and Stefano exchange a nervous glance.

“We caught some security footage of her sneaking into the garden,” Giovanni admits. “I think…”

“You think what?” I spit.

Giovanni gulps. His Adam’s apple rides up and down in his throat. “… I think she left the compound.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” I’m brimming with frustration.

“She knows the ins and outs around here, boss,” Stefano adds, extremely unhelpfully. “She knew how to get out undetected.”

“What happened to ‘keep a tight ship’?” I hiss. “What happened to ‘no leaks’? I thought there’s always a man stationed at the west fucking entrance.”

“She snuck out during his bathroom break.”

“Fuck,” I snarl. “This is just goddamn perfect.”

“We can track her phone, boss.” Giovanni suggests.

“Don’t bother. I can do that myself,” I say, waving them away. “Get out. Both of you.”

They scurry out as fast as they can.

I’m livid.

I turn my back for two fucking minutes and she flees the house?

Every time I tell myself we’re not going to fight, she does something infuriating and it pisses me off all over again.

I grab my phone in order to track her. A few swipes later, I’m zoning in on her current location.

It shows that she’s right here on the compound.

Matter of fact, it shows that she’s in the same room I’m in.

That doesn’t make any fucking sense.

This thing is accurate to within six feet. So either she was pissed enough to leave her phone in my office as a taunt, or…

“Let me guess,” Charlotte says from where she’s standing in the doorway. “You were about to come find me so that you could kick my ass?”

I turn around to face her. “I’d be justified in doing that.”

She shrugs. “I just needed a breather.”

“It’s not safe for you out there.”

“I took a chance.”

I close the distance between us so that I’m right in her face. “You don’t get to take those chances without my fucking permission.”

She stares back at me, her chin jutting out rebelliously. “I’m not a trained dog, Lucio. I’m not your employee. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not your wife. Truthfully, I’m not your anything. So you have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Wanna bet?”

Her eyes flash, but I can tell she’s trying desperately to keep herself calm.

Too bad I know exactly what buttons to push.

“I’m back, aren’t I?” she points out. “And nothing happened.”

“That makes you lucky,” I snap. “Not smart.”

She sighs. It’s not the reaction I expected.

I wanted fury. Fireworks. Those trademark spitfire emotions I’ve always been able to rely on.

This? The shit she’s doing right now?

It’s throwing me for a loop.

“I didn’t come find you to argue some more. Can we just talk?” she asks quietly. “Not bicker or fight or scream. Just talk.”

I’m still bubbling over with too many feelings to name. “That’s a little hard when you keep doing stupid shit that I’ve told you not to do.”

“I won’t live my life in a bubble,” she tells me calmly. “I won’t be trapped.”

“This is not a fucking game, Charlotte!” I explode. “Kazimierz is very real and very dangerous. If he gets his hands on you—”

“And you care about that?” she interrupts.

What?

I stare at her in disbelief. “I… of course I fucking care.”

“Why?”

The tone of her voice is innocent.

The content of her question is the exact opposite.

I don’t know what to say. The heat of the argument has dissipated immediately.

Left in its place is… something else.

Something pulsing and delicate between us.

“Why what?” I ask, even though it’s a stupid thing to say.

“Why do you care?” she repeats. “What am I to you, Lucio?”

I can only stare at her, completely blindsided by the question.

Maybe I should have seen it coming.

But fool that I am, I’ve been too wrapped up in her safety to ever consider that she might be insecure about our relationship.

“See?” she says, as though confirming what she already knows. “You have no clue what I am to you. Which probably means I’m just as dispensable to you as I was to Xander.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do not compare me to that asshole.”

“You’re right about him,” she says simply. “It’s not like I don’t know that.”

“Then why mourn him like you did?” I roar, unable to keep it in any longer. “You cried yourself to sleep for that fucking traitorous pig!”

Again, she doesn’t explode like I would’ve guessed.

Her eyes are deep and mournful, yeah.

But above all, they’re calm.

“Because,” she says, “for a long time, he was all I had. And yes, admittedly, he wasn’t much. But he was it.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

She starts pacing around the room. She’s not even walking towards me, just back and forth, as though she needs to expel all her pent-up frustration somehow.

I know the goddamn feeling.

“Do you know what it’s like to grow up without anyone, Lucio?” she asks. “Do you know what it’s like to believe that your father left because he wanted nothing to do with even the idea of you? Do you know what it’s like to have a mother who’d rather spend time throwing herself at a bunch of useless, alcoholic bums than make the time to have one conversation with her own fucking daughter?”

Back and forth she goes across the office.