Chapter 57 A PIECE OF MY MIND
••Luciana••
“I’m really sorry, Luci,” Roman said softly.
I sniffed. My chest hurt like someone had pressed a heavy stone into it and refused to lift it away. Each breath felt tight. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered.
“Please don’t cry,” he said. “It hurts me.” He lifted his hand and wiped my face gently. His touch was weak but warm.
My heart felt shattered like glass crushed under a boot. And all that rage inside me had only one name now.
Lorenzo Orlov.
His shadow sat in my mind like poison. Every word I heard about what he did kept replaying, each time sounding worse.
“It’s fine,” I managed to say. “I feel bad blaming you all this while.” My voice sounded small even to my own ears.
“You had the right to,” he replied. “After all, it’s my father. I’m just sorry this family caused you pain.”
His voice was so soft, so tired, that I almost started crying again. Guilt sat on him like a second injury.
I shook my head slowly. He was carrying too much already. “Please sleep, Roman,” I said. “I want to too.”
He drifted off easily. Exhaustion finally claimed him. His warm breath brushed my skin. His body relaxed against mine. The tension left his shoulders bit by bit. I listened to the rhythm of his breathing.
I just stayed awake. There was no way sleep would come with all these emotions I was feeling. My thoughts were loud. I wouldn’t let this slide.
I would face Lorenzo. Mafia boss or not. My husband’s father or not. There were limits to everything, and he crossed every single one. Some lines were not meant to be stepped over.
Tears rolled down my face silently. I cried without sound so I wouldn’t wake Roman. The pillow absorbed.
Then I reached back and patted his back gently, slow and soothing, the way someone does for a child after a nightmare.
It must have been hard for him too. Andrian was his brother. He never wanted this throne. Never wanted this burden. Roman loved his brother, and Lorenzo still called him weak. The word burned in my head.
At dawn, I carefully lifted Roman’s arm off my waist. It took effort not to wake him. My body felt heavy from a sleepless night. My heart felt heavier.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered, even though he couldn’t hear me. The promise still felt necessary.
I slipped out of the room and closed the door gently. The house was quiet.
I walked slowly, trying not to make noise. My steps were cautious on the polished floor. I would go to Lorenzo’s office and give him a piece of my mind. I had never been to this part of the house since I moved here. My palms were sweaty. My heart thudded in my ears like a warning drum.
I found his office. The door wasn’t locked. I turned the knob and peeked in.
Inside was empty.
The room looked messy. Papers were scattered all over, a chair pushed aside, bottles on the shelf. It looked messy. Even Roman’s study looked better than this. This looked like a storm lived here. Or a man losing control.
“Oh hell,” I muttered. “Am I not going to see him?”
The frustration rose quickly. My courage had already dressed up and come outside.
I turned back. Maybe he was still asleep. I thought of grabbing water from the kitchen for Roman.
Then I heard a clatter.
I turned. Lorenzo Orlov stood there. He held a bottle of whiskey in his hand. His shirt was half buttoned. His hair messy and his eyes red. His presence filled the doorway like bad news.
He is drunk, that explains the mess in his office.
“So,” he said roughly. “The little bride is awake early.”
I straightened my shoulders. Fear tried to climb up my spine but my pride wouldn't let it.
“I thought I wouldn't see you.”
He smirked. “What business do I have with you?"
“Andrian,” I said. My voice shook but I didn’t stop. “About the deal you chased instead of warning your son. How you let your own child walk into death.”
His jaw tightened. The air changed temperature.
“I see that weakling has told you this too,” he scoffed.
My hands curled into fists. My nails pressed into my palms. “Roman is not a weakling,” I snapped. “He almost died because of your greed.”
He took a slow step toward me.
“Andrian was not worth more than that deal?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Was he?”
His face hardened. “You watch your mouth, girl.”
“Watch your heart,” I fired back. “Because it’s rotten.”
He took another step closer. The smell of alcohol hit my nose. His eyes carried the kind of anger that had ruled men for decades.
“You are in my house,” he growled. “You don’t talk to me like that.”
“I am here because of a contract,” I said boldly. My pulse raced but my voice held. “And that contract exists because you need my family.”
He laughed darkly. No humor inside it. “You think you scare me?”
“I think you’re afraid,” I replied. “Afraid that power is slipping from your hands.”
His stare sharpened. That one landed.
He moved closer. “Know your place,” he warned. “Whatever hold you think you have on Roman will scatter soon enough. Till then, be careful the path you tread.”
My heart pounded. The house was silent. I was alone with a half drunk mafia boss. I needed to be careful but I didn’t step back.
“You remember why this contract exists?” I asked. “The war against Marco Valerio. You want to win? You still need my family.”
He stared at me.
“And the contract forbids you from doing any harm to me,” I added calmly. “You know what my family can do.”
His face twitched. Just slightly.
“Stop obsessing over power,” I said. “It’s killing your sons.”
He raised his bottle.
I turned away, I’ve done enough before something would go wrong. Staying longer would turn courage into danger. I slammed the door behind me.
Inside, I heard him curse in Russian.
(Damn it, insolent girl.)
My legs trembled as I walked away. The adrenaline that held me upright began to drain. The hallway spun slightly. My hands would not stop shaking.
When I reached my room door, I collapsed against it and slid down. The strength left my bones. My anger melted into pain.
I bent over and cried.
My heart ached so much, and I might have just overstepped. The line between brave and reckless suddenly looked very thin. Roman was still sleeping inside, unaware that I had just poked a lion with a whiskey bottle.