by K. A. Ware
I’d never wanted this life for myself, hidden away in the shadows with nothing but memories of stolen moments to soothe my ravaged heart. But even those were tainted with the reality that those moments I’d shared with the man that held my heart were stolen from the woman that held his name.
My mother and father would be ashamed if they knew what I’d become. The guilt of my sins weighed heavily on my shoulders, but my heart still beat for the only man I’d ever loved. I was exhausted. The constant battle, the tug of war between what my heart wanted and what my mind knew was wrong, left bruises on my conscience and scars on my soul.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and for the first time in so many years, I wanted to run from his embrace. It no longer meant comfort. The sting of betrayal, unfounded as it was, left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he rumbled in my ear. The tears of anguish I’d been holding back fell at his apology but quickly turned to tears of anger as he continued, “I should have told you we were trying.”
I spun around in his arms and pushed him away. A fierceness I didn’t know I was capable of bubbled inside of me as I glared up at his shocked face.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned. “Don’t come to me and apologize like it’s nothing, like you can just sweep this under the rug and we can go on like nothing’s changed. Everything has changed, Vincenzo.”
The tentacles of fear started to wrap around me as I watched his stunned expression cloud and morph into one of fury. He gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging in to the point of pain, I did my best not to flinch.
“Listen to me. Nothing has changed.”
“How can you say that?” I asked, astonished at his aggression and blatant disregard for my concerns.
“Don’t be naïve, Elena. You knew this would happen; it was inevitable. What would it look like if I’d never had children? I need someone to carry on the DeLuca name, end of story. You and I are the same as we’ve always been. Nothing will ever change that, do you understand?”
I didn’t have words. The angry beast that stood before me was not the Vincenzo I’d known; he’d transformed into something else entirely. When I didn’t say anything, he switched tactics, his face softening.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently, loosening his grip. He ran his hands up and down my arms as if he could erase the bruises that were sure to be there in the morning. “I love you, Elena. I can’t do this without you, you’re the light to my darkness, I need you.”
As he pleaded for my forgiveness, I started to realize how deep I’d been pulled into his world. There was no going back for me; he’d find me and drag me back kicking and screaming if he had to. Any hope I’d still held onto for having any semblance of a normal life vanished before my eyes at the realization that I was trapped.
I was his. He owned me, and there was nothing I could do to fight it.
Chapter 10
Seattle, Washington
November, 1983
Elena
“Carlo?” I called out as he waddled around the kitchen island and out of sight. The mischievous little boy that I’d grown to love with the ferocity of any natural mother was already a terror at a year and a half. I shook my head ruefully as I heard him open the cabinet where I kept the pots and pans.
“Baby, what are you doing?” I asked standing over him, hands on my hips.
He looked up at me and smiled, one adorable dimple poking out the side of his cheek. “Hep!” he exclaimed in his tiny voice. He loved to ‘help’ by banging around in the kitchen while I worked.
“Okay,” I said with a defeated sigh. Even as young as he was, he knew I’d always give in. I couldn’t help it; he was too adorable to say no to.
Carlo clapped his chubby little hands together and let out a squeal of delight. “Hep Mama!” he declared, and my heart melted. I didn’t have it in me to correct him, but I should have.
“What did my son just call you?” Luciana slurred as she stumbled into the kitchen. It was two in the afternoon, and she was already drunk. Something that had become a common occurrence in the past year.
“He’s just a baby, Luciana. He just got confused; that’s all,” I said, trying to placate her. She’d become increasingly volatile as her drinking had progressed. I wasn’t sure what demons she was trying to erase by drowning herself in bottle after bottle, but whatever it was, it had left her angry and irrational, completely unable to care for her own child.
“I am his mother, I carried him for nine months, and I gave birth to him. You’re nothing, just the hired help—don’t forget that.” She sneered just as Vincenzo entered the kitchen behind her.
He must’ve heard the conversation because his face was a shade of red I’d never seen; the vein in his forehead gave proof to his rage.
“Luciana!” he bellowed, causing her to jump and stumble. He caught her by the arm but didn’t let go.
Carlo startled at his father’s voice and immediately started to cry. On instinct, I bent down and hauled him to my hip, trying to comfort him.
“You see that?” Vincenzo growled into her face. “She is who he goes to for comfort; she is who he looks to while you’re busy drinking yourself to death!”
“Vincenzo,” I hedged as Carlo buried his head in my chest and wailed, his tiny arms gripped tightly around my neck. “You’re scaring him.”
He looked from his crying son to his enraged wife. “Come on,” he demanded and dragged her into the dining room.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” I soothed over and over again until he started to calm down and became preoccupied with my necklace. My momentary relief was shattered by the unmistakable sound of a slap. Dread sunk my stomach and I rushed to put a now happy Carlo in his playpen before heading toward the dining room.
I pushed the swinging door open just an inch to reveal Vincenzo’s broad back as he held Luciana against the china cabinet by her neck.
“You’re going to let that whore raise your son?” she coughed.
“You’ve been chasing the bottom of a bottle, so maybe you haven’t noticed that she’s been raising him. She’s the one who feeds him, bathes him, puts him to bed at night; not you. She is not the disposable one here.”
“I’m your wife!”
“This was never a marriage; it was a contract. You have no family here. Your father is dead. There is no one to save you; I own you. Don’t forget that.”
“Bastard,” she spat.
“Call me what you want, but if you ever speak to Elena like that again, I will make sure you don’t get the opportunity to do it a third time,” Vincenzo seethed.
I stepped back into the kitchen, unable to listen to anymore.
He’s a dangerous man. Mama’s warning came back to haunt me once again.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew Vincenzo had a violent side—his business required it—but, I hadn’t realized how much it had become a part of him. If he could threaten his wife like that with such fury, what would he do to me if I found myself on the wrong side of his temper?
It was an answer I didn’t want to find out. As much as it had scared me to see that side of him, I was glad I had. At least now I knew what he was capable of, and I’d do anything in my power to avoid being on the receiving end of his wrath.
Chapter 11
Marsala, Sicily
October, 1986
Vincenzo
My lips grazed the cold, lifeless cheek of my father as I whispered my last prayer for his soul. Straightening, I tucked the cigar I’d brought with me into the breast pocket of the suit my sister had picked out for him to be buried in. I’d smoke the other cigar I’d brought when I finally took my seat behind his desk and at my rightful place at the head of the DeLuca family. With a final look at the grayed and waxy face that once struck fear into the hearts of the strongest of men, I turned my back on the casket and made my way back to my seat in the front pew.
Catholic funerals were never short, but the line of men and women t
hat had traveled great distances to pay their respects to my father wrapped around the back of the church. Which meant we had a long day ahead of us. I reached to my right and curled my hand around Luciana’s as we waited for the procession of people to pass in front of us and offer their condolences. Her eyes may have been dry for the patriarch of our family, but she would stand with me and put on the face of the mourning daughter-in-law and do her duty to the family.
After the church service, we rode in the front of the procession line to the family burial site where we laid my father to rest next to my mother. The entire time Elena had watched over Carlo, two paces behind us. A simmering anger brewed in my chest at the fact that she wasn’t the one beside me, but there was nothing to be done about it—yet.
In time, things would change; I just had to wait for the opportunity to arise. Getting rid of Luciana would be more difficult than I’d like, there were too many variables, at no point could I show weakness. I was the head of the family now that my father had passed. It was my job to run the business in both Sicily and America, and for now, I needed to show a united front.
Taking over because of my bloodline wouldn’t be enough to earn the respect I needed to build our business into an empire. My father’s influence would only go so far. I had to elevate my name, my power, my reach. I had to become notorious.
“Carlo is down for his nap. With everything going on yesterday I didn’t want to bring it up, but now that things have calmed down a bit, I’d like to go visit my family,” Elena said as she entered the office. I lifted my gaze to meet hers. She was wringing her hands, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
I let her squirm, taking my time to answer. I ran my thumbnail along a crack in the top of the ancient wood desk that had belonged to my father, something that I’d be replacing as soon as possible. Out with the old and in with the new.
“That’s fine, take Al with you, though,” I replied calmly. I wasn’t sure why she was nervous, but I didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry? Why would I need to take Al with me to see my parents?”
“It’s not safe, Elena. The head of this family just died, there will be people trying to challenge my leadership, and they will do so in any way possible. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take with you. If you want to go see your parents, then you will take Al with you, understood?”
She sighed and nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Make sure you let someone know you’re leaving and to listen for Carlo when he wakes up. Luciana may have slowed down on the drinking as of late, but I still don’t trust her.”
“It’s already taken care of; Marie will look after him while I’m gone.”
“When will you be back?” I demanded.
“This evening. I’m going to have dinner with my parents, but I’ll be back in time to put Carlo to bed.”
I let my eyes bore into hers, silently telling her not to do something stupid before I nodded in agreement. “I’ll come to you tonight.”
I watched her visibly swallow before a small smile played on her face, and she cast her eyes to the floor. “Of course,” she whispered, and turned to leave.
“Elena,” I called out, stopping her. She turned slightly to face me, her eyes suddenly sad. “Now that my father’s gone, things will change. I promise you, things will be better. It will take time, but we will have the life we dreamed of before.”
Her full lips turned down at the corners slightly and her brow furrowed. “I wish that were true,” she said so softly I almost didn’t catch it. Before I could formulate a response, she was gone.
Anger flooded my veins. Everything I’d done, every sacrifice I’d made at my father’s request was for the family. At that moment the resentment I felt toward everything I’d known and everything I’d become came crashing down on me. The one good thing I’d ever had in my life, the light to all my darkness, now looked at me as if there was no hope left.
I grabbed the closest thing to me, a crystal decanter that my father had cherished, and flung it across the room. The sound of the fragile glass exploding against the stone wall did little to ebb my fury. Unable to control myself, I stalked around the room snatching up whatever I could find that had meant anything to my father and destroyed it all.
He’d ruined my life; now I’d destroy his legacy.
Chapter 12
Seattle, Washington
June 1990
Elena
Every time he came to my room reeking of scotch and cigar smoke, I let him in. And it broke my heart just a little bit more. Another fracture in my soul each time I let him take my body knowing that somewhere deep down a small piece of him was still the boy that had told me I was his everything.
Somehow along the way he had lost that innocence, his soul being corrupted and mutilated into a gruesome thing that I couldn't even begin to understand. Whether it had been born out of necessity for his job or out of pure greed of power, I did not know. A large part of me didn't want to know. Because every time I looked into those wide brown eyes I saw the boy, the one I fell in love with, the one I gave my entire life up for. And even just a moment with that boy again was worth a thousand tears and a hundred years of heartbreak.
“Amo solo te,” he murmured, stroking my hair absently.
I love only you.
A weight in my chest formed like an anchor pulling me beneath the surface of the water. I felt the familiar panic start to rise along with the despair. I’d done it again. He was an adulterer, and I was the other woman. I hated myself for being weak, for giving in.
As much as I thought of him as mine, he wasn’t. No matter how much he claimed to love me, he’d chosen this life and kept me tucked away as his dirty little secret. I wanted to hate him, resent him for what had become of my life, but I couldn’t. I’d been there every step of the way. We’d both made choices, none of them simple or easy.
We were at a crossroads again, like we’d been so many times before. But this time, I was going to be the one making the difficult decision. I was going to take the first real step toward changing my life. I loved Vincenzo with all my heart, just being near him, freely being able to run my hands through his hair had me nearly in tears. So many emotions ran through me at once when we were alone. Loving him was excruciating.
“I’m moving out,” I said quickly, sitting up. I grabbed my discarded robe from the floor and rushed to cover myself. This conversation was going to be difficult enough to have; I didn’t need the complications of being naked on top of it.
“Elena,” he said sternly, almost exasperated at my announcement.
“Vincenzo,” I whispered, emotion pooling in my eyes. “Carlo is eight; I’m not needed here full time. I’ve saved up some money and talked to a real estate agent. I’m going to buy a house not far from here. I’ll still be here every day, but when my work is done, I’ll go home. To my home.”
“This is your home,” he growled, getting up from the bed.
The bed he bought, surrounded by the furniture he bought, in a room he assigned to me, in his house. Nothing was mine, even the robe that was clutched tightly in my hands had been a gift from him. Somehow along the way I’d lost all control, lost my identity.
“This is your home,” I argued, covering my face with my hands. “Please, I can’t. It’s killing me.”
“I hate her,” he rasped, his loathing rolling off him in waves.
“She’s your wife; you shouldn’t say that,” I reprimanded, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
Such was our relationship; it had always been like that. He burned hot and fast, always quick to anger. I was his conscience, letting the light into his darkest places. Only since his father had died, it was getting harder to reach the dark corners, and I feared the secrets that were hidden there. The man I’d loved for nearly twenty years had changed, and I wasn’t sure if there was anything he wasn’t capable of doing to get what he wanted.
“But she’s not you.” His eyes hardened, turning cold the l
onger he stared at me, but he wasn’t staring at me. No, his eyes were cast in my direction, but he wasn’t seeing me, he saw the past. Running through the choices that brought us to now, to the crossroads, to the moment I told him I was leaving him.
“She’s the mother of your son, I’m just the housekeeper,” I reminded him, even though the words felt like razor blades on my tongue.
“Don’t do that,” he demanded angrily. “You know you’re more than that.”
“But I shouldn’t be, and we both know that.”
“And we both know that nothing is going to change. You’re not going to leave.” His words were simple, not angry, but the flash of something I couldn’t pinpoint in his eyes told me that no matter how much I fought it, he would win. I had misjudged my power in this situation; Vincenzo held all the cards, and he wasn’t letting me go.
Chapter 13
Seattle, Washington
January, 1991
Elena
I caught sight of headlights moving up the drive through the kitchen window as I dried the last of the dishes from the evening’s meal. Vincenzo had left with Carlo in tow hours ago; I’d held off on serving dinner for as long as I could. Eventually, I served Luciana her dinner alone. She picked at it, staring out the bay window while polishing off an entire bottle of wine.
A knot of worry tightened in my stomach the longer they were gone. I didn’t like the side of Vincenzo that was starting to emerge, and I wasn’t sure if I’d just been blind to it for years or if he was becoming someone unrecognizable. Either way, I feared the time that Carlo spent with him alone.