by Lux Miller
Gasping, I put my the back of my hand over my mouth and shake my head, pointing at the ground as I pray that I won’t puke on Luca. Despite my negative response to him, I nod. My words are muffled against my skin as I reply, “Just tell me what to do…”
Luca nods slowly, then exhales. “Say as little as possible, but if you’re asked a question, lie your ass off. He shot himself, and that’s all you know.”
I’m sure my eyes are full of tears as my heart breaks for this man who now has to choose between the immediate grief of watching his father die in front of him or protecting his brother. While I have no experience with the latter because I was an only child, I completely understand the former. My father was dead to me years before he died. He was a ghost of his former self, too self-absorbed in his gambling sprees and debts to notice the brokenhearted teenager he was supposed to be raising.
I also understand that losing someone who’s been dead to you for years hurts in a different way than losing someone you’re not ready to let go of… and right now, I get the feeling that Luca is hovering between the two extremes. He will grieve his father, but right now, his focus is on saving the family he still has.
I watch in silence as I drop down to my knees, my arms wrapped around my belly in discomfort.
Luca and Dante move Matteo, placing the gun in his own hand. I don’t know what they’re doing, but they fiddle with the gun for a moment, then fire it into the desk with Matteo holding it. There’s a small flash at the end of the gun, but from what I can tell, nothing was actually fired.
Luca nudges his brother out of the way and they both step back away from the desk. I have no clue what else they’ve done to stage the scene, but the speed with which they flip things makes me think this isn’t the first time they’ve staged a suicide.
That thought should turn my stomach, but I knew the kind of bed I was crawling into the first time I slept with Luca and when I let myself have feelings for the man made of stone. Now it’s mine to lie in, no matter what kind of atrocious acts he commits.
I have no clue what they’re doing, but the less I know, the better. Once everything seems to be in place, Luca lets out a bloodcurdling scream and whips out his phone as he presses his back against the wall. I don’t know who or what he’s texting, but the sudden crash against the barricaded door gives me the idea that he’s texted Mike or one of the men who stood guard outside.
A thunderous bang snaps my attention to the door as the frame splinters and it swings open wide. Three enormous men pour into the room with guns drawn and wild expressions on their faces. I feel fear wrench my belly as they survey the room.
Dante has returned to his knees, his head in his hands as his body visibly shakes. Luca is pacing back and forth nervously, his hands going in and out of his pockets as he mutters in Italian.
The man named Marco rushes over to where Matteo is slumped over the desk, lifeless. The one named Paul goes straight to Luca, interrogating him like it’s the inquisition. Mike takes one look at me as I clasp both hands over my mouth in an attempt to prevent another spray of vomit. I shake my head quickly, my eyes haunted as I point at Dante.
I can’t make out any of the words that are flying around me in a mix of Italian and English. I can feel my head getting lighter as the gravity of the situation closes in on me and encases me in a heavy sense of dread. I blink my eyes quickly, trying to clear the fuzzy blackness that creeps in on the edge of my vision, but it proves to be pointless. The last thing I remember hearing is distant sirens as the darkness rises up to meet me as I fall.
***
Less than two weeks after Christmas, I find myself once again standing in the shadows of Saint Louis Cathedral. When the Barresi family last gathered here, it was to celebrate the joyous occasion of the birth of the Lord and Savior. It was a beautiful observance of Catholic tradition, even if I felt like an outsider looking in.
Today, the mood is somber as the family prepares to say goodbye to its patriarch. I can feel the heaviness in Luca’s demeanor, especially in the last few days as the New Orleans Police Department released their initial findings into Matteo’s death. His death has been initially classified as a suicide, pending further investigation, which the family has declined. Though foul play has been ruled out in Matteo’s death, the family had moved to have him buried in haste.
Despite the circumstances surrounding his death, the Catholic church has graciously allowed for Matteo to be buried on hallowed ground, so the family wasted no time in making arrangements. I still feel like an outsider, but it was Bianca who put her foot down and demanded I attend the service. I certainly wasn’t going to disobey her. She may be small, but she’s fierce and I’m not about to tempt fate by making her mad.
Luca made it clear that nobody was to object to my being here. There have been mutterings behind my back, but nobody has dared to speak up in my presence and in turn - his. Luca has kept at least a hand on me since we left the car that brought us here, and I know that it’s as much for his own comfort as it is for mine.
He’s kept his posture stoically straight and a blankness to his face that doesn’t betray what he’s feeling, but he can’t hide everything. Despite his declaration that he hated his father, I think that deep down, he still loved him, even if all he loved were the memories.
I know how it feels to love a memory versus the shell of a man that stands before you. I did it for years before my father was murdered, and even though there was no love lost between my father and I in his final years, I still cherish the memories of happier times that survived my teenage angst. I just hope that one day Luca will be able to recall something about his father that will make him smile.
Right now, I am sandwiched between Luca and Dante, and neither have spoken to the other since the day Matteo died. They live under the same roof, yet their lives have diverged to the point that they no longer cross paths. I suspect much of that is planned.
Though both men are too proud to admit their grief, I feel like neither of them are coping well with it. Both carry hollow expressions on their faces. For men who keep a lot of secrets, both of them could stand to work on their poker face. For the last several days, they’ve simply gone through the motions of living. If I wasn’t living with them, I doubt they’d even eat on some days.
Yet, despite the chasm between them, they need each other now more than ever. Even if Dante pulled the trigger, I’ve seen enough of this family to know that he wasn’t the one pulling the strings. Surely Luca realizes this too?
I don’t remember much of that day now. I’ve tried to block out the horrifying memory as best I can. After seeing a hardened criminal like Matteo slump over the desk like a rag doll, I’d lost my lunch and my dignity. When I’d come around after passing out, the place was abuzz with police officers and medical personnel trying to revive Matteo.
I squeeze my eyes shut to try to stop the little drummer boy from throwing a party inside of my head as the priest reads the short, but simple eulogy to memorialize the man. As a moment of silence is called to reflect on the eulogy, I bite down on my bottom lip and slide my hand into Luca’s. I gasp softly when he grips my hand, keeping my eyes averted away from him so that I don’t have to answer the questions that I know will be on his face as soon as he realizes what I’ve tucked into it.
Swallowing down the bile that threatens to bubble up into my mouth, I squeeze his hand gently and pull mine away, leaving behind the folded up note that Dante passed to me this morning before the services. I have no clue what the contents of the letter are, but Dante stressed how important it was that I get it to Luca before the end of the ceremonies.
I know I’m cutting it close as the services begin to wind down, but it’s taken a lot of soul-searching to find the guts to give it to him. I keep my head tucked away from him, but peek out of the corner of my eye to see him open the handwritten letter. He’s holding his breath as he reads it, and his shoulders slump as he crumples the note in his fist.
Several heartbea
ts pass before Luca grabs my hand and tugs it to his mouth. I whip my head around and my eyes meet his as he pulls my body against his. He leans his mouth down to my ear and whispers, “Thank you.” Then he plants a kiss on top of my head and presses my hand gently over his chest, murmuring, “Sei la mia grazia, mi hai salvato.”
When I stare at him blindly, he chuckles softly, then leans his forehead against mine and whispers, “You are my grace, you saved me.” He squeezes my hand against his chest, then releases me, peering around me and nodding his head at Dante, who’s seated on my other side.
When the priest makes the call for pallbearers to come forward, I gasp as both Dante and Luca make their way out of the pews and walk to the front. Alongside them are Mike, the man named Marco, the man named Paul and several other men that I don’t recognize.
I turn around from my place in the front pew and I gasp as I see that row after row, the sanctuary is filled with mourners in head to toe black. I hadn’t realized that a man that struck such fear into the city would be so revered in death, but not a soul stirs in the pews as the men at the front move into position to carry Matteo out of the church.
Once the lid is lowered on Matteo’s casket, Luca and Dante approach together. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but their lips are moving. Luca performs the sign of the cross, then leans over the polished wood and places a single kiss on the shiny surface. He then steps back and Dante does the same. When Dante stands, my heart skips a beat as Luca rests his hand on Dante’s shoulder. Just a heartbeat passes before Dante does the same to Luca, his cast-clad wrist resting against Luca’s broad back.
In the pew, Bianca and Noemi huddle together, their muffled cries rising above the murmurs of the crowd as a hymn is sung. One by one, the men at the front kneel beside the casket and take their position to transfer its weight to their shoulders. With Luca kneeling at the front of one side and Dante at the other, the men heave Matteo’s casket onto their shoulders.
Raw pain is etched into both Luca and Dante’s faces. Neither have healed from their physical injuries and both are still reeling from the torrent of grief that was unleashed that day in Matteo’s office. It’s impossible to discern between the physical and emotional pain. Both men simply look broken. As they walk slowly, side-by-side, out of the church, they exchange a knowing glance. The men that they’ve become may not blink, but inside, the little boys cry.
ELEVEN
It’s been days since Matteo’s funeral and the air in the house still hangs heavy with secrets and lies. Since Matteo’s passing, Luca has demanded that Bianca and Noemi move into the house and we’re all feeling the sudden closeness. It’s nearly impossible to navigate the house, despite its generous size, without running into someone. And since nobody is feeling particularly chatty, it’s made for a lot of awkwardness.
Noemi has moved into what used to be my room, which means I have moved into Luca’s with him. It’s not like it was a big change - half my stuff was in here already. It was really just making things official, but the knowing looks from Bianca and Mike and the silent treatment from Noemi have just pushed me further into reclusion.
The worst was literally running into Noemi on my way out of Luca’s room and her accusing stare that left me feeling like a cheap tramp. There’s nothing like the withering glare of a teenager to make you feel like you’re doing something wrong. I have avoided her at all costs as she seems to be a thunderstorm hell-bent on striking me down.
I’m content most days to stay huddled up inside Luca’s room, only sneaking downstairs to grab a quick bite to eat when I’m certain everyone else is asleep for the night, including Luca. If I make any motion to leave the room while he’s there, he always coaxes me back into bed where I inevitably end up naked and fucked. If I thought his sexual appetite was voracious before; it’s absolutely insatiable now. He wants it morning, noon, and night if he’s home.
Last night, he had the audacity to growl at me for pulling on one of his shirts, because I was cold. It’s gotten to the point that I’m almost thankful for the reprieve when he has business matters to attend to. Which of course he’s kept me in the dark about. I know there was a hushed meeting that took place downstairs in the locked room I’ve been warned away from.
Like an obedient little mouse, I haven’t snooped, but I can’t say that the curiosity isn’t eating me alive. I know that being nosy around the mafia gets people killed, but it’s already killing me to know what’s going on and why Luca has been in such a foul mood. I mean, I know he’s not dealing with his father’s death well, but something else is eating at him, too.
Then again, I have a pretty good idea what’s going on. Both Luca and Dante are sporting new bandages, and though I know nothing about the practices of their crime syndicate, I do know the importance of blood in their rituals. I am also aware of the new ring that Luca is now wearing on the necklace around his neck. I suspect it’s meant to go on his ring finger, but since he hasn’t removed the ring he originally wore, he’s wearing this new one tucked into his shirt.
I can’t say I haven’t examined it. Mostly when he’s been asleep. I don’t want him to think I’m being nosy, but when he won’t share the information with me, I have to sate my curiosity somehow. I suspect that despite Luca’s wishes, Dante has joined with the crime syndicate, and Luca has been elevated into his father’s position. This is strictly conjecture, but I know that rings like Luca’s new one aren’t something you pick up at the local jeweler.
The new jewelry is ornate yellow gold with an intricately carved ‘B’ surrounded by diamonds. The ring he wears on his hand is eerily similar, but with a different placement and numbers of diamonds. This is my biggest clue aside from the bandages on Dante’s trigger finger and Luca’s palm that something has happened. Neither of them is offering up any information, and I’m frankly too scared to ask. Luca’s been in a perpetual foul mood, and I don’t want to get my head bitten off.
My breath hitches as the I hear the door to our bedroom close. Sighing softly, I look up to see Luca prowling across the room to the bed. It must be his lunch hour and the way he’s eyeing me hungrily, I already know where this is going. I frown, then swing my legs around so they are hanging off the edge of the bed. I reach over and grab the remote, pausing the DVR where I spent the morning binge-watching some docuseries on baby penguins.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I inhale a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest, grabbing the bottom of the shirt and yanking it over my head. As I drop it onto the bed behind myself, I comment, “You know, we’re running low on condoms. If you’re going to maul me multiple times a day, please bring home more or prepare to start pulling out.”
Luca stops in his tracks as I flop back on the bed and lift my ass in the air to wiggle off my shorts. Two weeks of this and I know the routine by now. When he’s after a quickie, I know what to expect. He doesn’t want conversation and sweet nothings. He wants me naked as fast as possible. He raises an eyebrow when he sees I’m not wearing underwear.
I shrug in response and reply, “You’ve ripped off half of my underwear in your primal fuck fest over the last two weeks. I won’t have any left at this rate, so I just stopped wearing them. No need to take up any more of your time than is necessary, right?”
Luca flinches at the snotty tone of my voice. His eyes rake over my body and it’s obvious that he appreciates what he sees judging by the telltale bulge that appears in the front of his jeans. Instead of lingering on my nakedness, his eyes snap back up to mine. He looks angry. Great, now there’s no chance he’ll be gentle. I roll over onto my stomach and poke my ass in the air, my face resting against the comforter of the bed. “Just get it over with, Luca. I’m in no mood to argue today.”
I close my eyes and transport myself in my mind so that I’m somewhere else mentally as I prepare for him to slam into me from behind. It’s been his preferred position the last couple of days and it’s obvious why. It’s easy access, dirty, and quick. And he doesn’t have to see the
look of longing that no doubt crosses my mind every time he fucks me without feeling anything. At least, that’s how it feels. Like I’m just a hole for him to shove his cock in to get his rocks off, then go about his day like it’s no big deal. He’d do just as well with a blowup doll.
I know that his plate is full and that he doesn’t have time for petty drama, but would it be asking too much for him to kiss me once in a while? Pretend that I’m worth more to him than a quick orgasm? To hold me in his arms like he used to do? Ever since his father’s murder, Luca has been distant, like he’s afraid to get close to anyone. And he’s pushed away everyone that cares about him, including me. In fact, I’d say he’s pushed me away the furthest.
I cringe as I feel his hands on my hips and brace myself for the sharp pain and dull ache that will follow when he fucks me senseless without foreplay. It may not be necessary for all women to enjoy sex, but it’s nice when he bothers to loosen up the tight muscles between my legs, especially considering what my tiny body has to accommodate. And I miss the intimacy we shared when my pleasure mattered to him as much as his own.