Keeping his bride

Luca

WAKE THE next morning with a pounding headache. I drank way too much last night, and now I must suffer

the consequences.

I climb out of bed, every movement making the headache worse. I pop some painkillers and hop into the shower. The hot steam seems to help a bit. And by the time I’m dressed, I’m feeling a little better.

I walk downstairs and pause in the dining room. Memories of last night bombard me, and I curse out loud. I told Verona too much. I showed my cards. I told her my true feelings behind my hatred towards her and her family. And the look on her face told me exactly what I already knew – she didn’t have a clue.

Of course her father didn’t tell her that he was responsible for murdering my mother. I mean, why would he? I don’t think that man has ever accepted responsibility for any of the bad shit he’s done his entire life.

He’s killed indiscriminately, but I bet Verona has no idea who her dear old dad truly is or what he’s capable of. At least I know who my father is. I’ve witnessed firsthand the type of destruction he can bring to an entire family. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t take out the Morettis when he had the chance, though. If it were up to me, they would have been eradicated from this earth a long time ago.

I know we never caught the actual person who slit my mother’s throat. I’ve always envisioned it was Antonio Moretti himself, but that big, lump of shit couldn’t have run fast enough out of the house that morning without tripping over his two fat feet.

No, it was definitely someone who was hired by the Moretti family. But why my mother? I never understood the answer to that question. It would have made more sense to try to take a hit out on my father. He was Antonio’s rival, his sworn enemy. Why kill someone who was innocent?

Trying to clear my head, I walk into the kitchen.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Benito is drinking a cup of coffee while the staff mills about, cleaning up after breakfast.

One of the housekeepers walks into the room.

“Breakfast, sir?”

Ignoring her, I ask Benito, “Where’s Verona?” I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran away after last night. She knows my true feelings towards her now. And even though we’re bound by this contract, I don’t doubt that she’s terrified of me and what I might do to her.

“She went to see her father,” Benito informs me.

“Fuck!” I yell, startling the young woman beside me. “Who drove her?” I demand.

“I believe it was Dante.”

Dante. Of course. He’s been a thorn in my side ever since I can remember. And now he’s pushing my buttons when it comes to my wife. He’s taking the role of her bodyguard to a whole other level. And if he thinks he can best me, then he has another thing coming. I guess putting him in his place the other night didn’t change anything.

I’ll just have to take it a step further to make sure he understands.

“Breakfast, sir?” the housekeeper asks again, her blonde bangs hanging in her eyes.

“Yes,” I tell her. I might as well eat and get some of my strength back. I’ll deal with Dante and Verona later.

Verona

M

Y HIGH HEELS click against the polished hardwood floor as I make my way to my father’s study. I know that’s where he’ll be. I have a lot of questions that I need answers to, and I’m not leaving until every single one is answered.

“Verona,” my father says in surprise when I barge into the room.

I remember sneaking into his study as a child. The dark, antique furniture used to intrigue me, and I would sit for hours staring at the intricately carved patterns and reading through his old, dusty book collections.

This room would always bring me a sense of peace, because no one else was allowed in here. I wasn’t even allowed, but my father allowed it when he wasn’t conducting business.

I give Dante a silent nod before closing the door, effectively shutting him out. I trust Dante, and I’m thankful that he agreed to drive me here today, but I want this conversation to be between my father and me. I don’t want any third-party opinions creeping in.

“Did something happen?” my father questions.

“I want you to tell me how Gianna Vitale died.”

“You know how she died,” he says, waving a hand, dismissing me.

“No, I don’t. I figured it was a car accident or something sudden, but you never told me the truth. No one has told me the truth about what happened.”

Papa stands and goes to one of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooks the property. After a long time, he finally says, “Gianna Vitale was murdered in her home.”

“By who? Was it you?” I ask, desperation flooding my voice.

He turns to look at me. “Don’t tell me you came here to accuse your own father of murder.”

“I need to know who killed her.”

“No one knows. Her killer was never caught. I heard it was sudden, a thief in the middle of the night.”

“Did you know Luca watched her die?”

Papa grimaces at that information. “No, I didn’t know.” He ponders that information for a moment. “No wonder he became such a bitter, troubled boy.”

“Did you know that the Vitales blame you for her death?”

“Yes, of course I do. That is what started the war between our families, after all. But I told them I didn’t know anything of it, and I don’t. I never did, and I never will. The case ran cold even with police.” He walks over to his desk and sits down again. “I would never put out a hit on an innocent woman. Even if we had our troubles with

the Vitales, Gianna was innocent.”

“Luca said her throat was slashed three times.”

My father doesn’t seem stunned by that revelation. “Someone wanted to frame us; make the Vitales believe it was us,” he says adamantly.

“Is that why you sent me away? Did you think they would try to take out their revenge on me?”

“Yes.” He removes a cigar from a small box on the corner of his desk, snips off the end and lights it up, puffing his cheeks until the cherry forms on the end of it. A plume of smoke escapes his lips as he looks up at me. “I wanted to keep you safe. And that was the only way I knew how. I had to get you away from this place, all of this.” He sighs and takes another puff from the cigar. “Everything calmed down when they couldn’t prove that I ordered the hit or find the man who did it. But obviously Luca Vitale still harbors some ill will towards our family.”

I want to tell my father that it’s more than ill will. It’s pure, undiluted hatred. But I keep my mouth shut. I’m not here to run away from home…even if Luca’s mansion doesn’t feel like home to me. Besides, I can’t leave even if I wanted to thanks to the contract binding us to be married and living together.

“Grandfather thought the contract would fix everything for good?”

Papa nods. “The two patriarchs schemed behind all of our backs. They wanted harmony amongst the families once and for all.” He sits down at his desk and rests the cigar on a nearby ashtray. “Valerius Vitale and my father were childhood friends. They obviously were sick of all the fighting, and this was the only thing they could do that would prevent any future war between the families. It was their dying wish to bring peace to all of us.”

“I don’t know if there will ever be peace,” I mutter under my breath.

He shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps not.” Then he asks, “What else do you want to know?”

“Do you have any suspicions of who would have wanted to kill Gianna Vitale?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No one knows. Otherwise, that person would already be dead.”

That’s true. If the Vitales knew who murdered Gianna, the man would already be six feet under.

“What else do you need from me, Verona?” Papa offers.

“Can we…can we spend the day together?” I ask him, and my question clearly surprises him. I need a break from Luca, and I haven’t spent real quality time with my father in years. All this talk about Luca’s dead mother makes me think about my mother.

I’ve already lost one parent. My father is the only family I have left, and I would be devastated if I lost him too. I know it’s inevitable, but I can make up for lost time, starting today.

“Of course. For you, anything.”

I smile at him. “Thank you, Papa.”

“You know, the same ice cream shop we used to take you to when you were a little girl is still down the street.

Would you like to go?”

“I would love that.”

I know Luca won’t be pleased about me being gone all day since I didn’t exactly tell him I was leaving. But for all I know, he doesn’t even know I left. And I’m guessing even if he does, that he definitely doesn’t care.