by Sadie Black
Luka
"You've arrived, sir," Giles announced from the driver's seat of the black town car. The partition between the front and back was lowered, privacy no longer required.
In retrospect, Luka wondered if the division was there for his privacy, or Giles'. The elderly chauffeur had held the Belmonte secret to himself for so long that it was likely a relief that Luka was in on it now. No wonder Marcello had kept the man employed for so long. Men who could hold their tongues for decades at a time were hard to come by.
The town car had stopped in front of a gate leading to a house larger than any Luka had seen before. Twin buildings with peaked roofs, were joined in the back by a long wing that stretched well beyond their outer limits. Old, but well maintained, this was the home of a powerful and wealthy man: Vittore Lombardo, the Don.
"Giles, what do I do?" Luka asked. Giles had dropped his father off at this very estate countless times, and Luka was eager for his advice. A man as true to the Belmonte family as Giles would never lead him wrong.
"When we get clearance, I'll drive you up to the front. You'll get out of the car. Some gentlemen will greet you at the door, and they'll guide you from there. There is nothing to be worried about, sir."
The house was enclosed by a fence. Black stakes were spaced so close together there was no chance any human life could squeeze through. Vittore didn't want anyone getting in without clearance. With a profession like his, Luka understood why.
A security guard occupied a small booth near the gate. Giles rolled down both driver's side windows in anticipation of the guard's arrival.
"Giles Anderson and Mr. Luka Belmonte, presenting," Giles announced as the guard approached. "We're expected."
"Yeah, it's hard to forget a Belmonte's face. Just gotta go through the standard with you guys. Open up the glove box, pop the trunk, turn off the engine, back door open."
Luka hadn't anticipated an investigation, but he understood the need for one. As many friends as the Don had, he probably had double the enemies. Giles did as instructed, and Luka swung the door open for him.
The guard made quick work of his search. When he was done he drew a nightstick from his belt and tapped it against different parts of the car, before popping the hood to check what lay beneath. When he was satisfied, he moved to the back and swung the trunk up, pulling out the bottom to look beneath. When the lid lurched closed and latched against its lock, the man moved back to Giles' window.
"I'm going to let you guys in. We got space available in the underground parking garage, so if you want in from the cold you can park her there."
"Much appreciated," Giles replied. "Take care tonight."
"Yeah, you too."
The guard tapped his hand against the hood twice in parting, then made his way back to the small office near the gate. Luka saw him pick up a phone and speak, and seconds later the gate began to retract. They were in.
Giles wasted no time in rolling up the windows, and when they were sealed, he spoke to Luka.
"I had a message from your father. He wishes to remind you to show your respects to Mr. Lombardo and not to make a fool of yourself. The Don's home is filled with plenty of distractions and toys, but don't get caught up in them. That, and he would like you to give Mr. Lombardo his regards."
If Luka were in this position a few months ago, his father would've had every right to worry, but Luka made a commitment to sobriety he intended to stick to. A Don's estate was exclusive, but one taste of the better life would leave him craving more. Ciara, with her stunning mind and breathtaking physique had been the only exception to the rule. Being seen with a chick wasn't the end of the world, but getting caught partying was a different story. Luka knew he needed to stay clean if he were to ever recover in the public eye.
"Will do," Luka said. "No one needs to worry about me. I'm keeping my nose clean."
"Very good, sir."
The engine purred back to life, and Giles drove them through the open gate and up the long driveway. The closer they drew, the more Luka could make out the details of the estate. Vittore's home was his temple, and every man and woman who set foot inside did so to worship him.
Giles brought the car to a stop, as Luka opened the door, two men in thick wool jackets approached. Bigger than the man arming the station by the gate, there was a familiar brutish cut to their jaws that suggested a blood relation. Luka didn't have much time to think about it, because one of them spoke.
"Name?"
"Luka Belmonte. I have an appointment to see Mr. Lombardo tonight."
"Yeah, that's Luka Belmonte, alright," the second man said. "What you did to Breece? Fucker deserved it. I was cheering you on. It's about time we get a mayor who's not afraid to stand up to scumbag wannabe reporters thinkin' they can just tear down any man who puts himself in the public eye. What he said was fuckin' disrespectful."
Luka's eyes swept between the brutes, trying to find the right angle to play. So far, silence was doing the trick.
"Shut up Alex. Mr. Belmonte, please come in. Mr. Lombardo isn't ready to see you yet, but he invites you to take a load off in his backyard by the pool side. When he's ready, you'll be the first to know."
Both men turned, and Luka knew to follow. He entered Vittore's spacious home only for a second — the men walked him across the lobby, then out through the back doors. The backyard stretched into forever. A flight of stone stairs led down the gentle slope to a shell shaped in-ground pool. The basin was lit up from the bottom, the clear surface of the water sparkling like diamonds. A lavish stone deck surrounded the pool, cluttered with round tables. The back wall was stocked with bottles of booze. But it wasn't the extravagance of the decor or the endless wealth that drew Luka's attention — it was the women.
Some swam, free, in the pool. Others nested down on the laps of the men who sat by the pool side. Others yet wove across the deck with a sway in their hips and sex in their eyes. Despite the cold night air, each one of them was topless, lower halves covered by string bikini bottoms. The bare breasts on display were too perky to be natural, and the slender bodies that supported them too perfect. Each body was illuminated by bright patio lights, shadows exaggerating already generous curves. Some rich men kept herds of peacocks to add color and beauty to their homes — Vittore Lombardo kept beautiful women.
"While you wait, Mr. Lombardo's girls will keep you company," Alex said. "Feel free to indulge as you wish." And with those words, the men took their leave.
Luka was left to stand overlooking the scene below, mouth dry. Beauties of all ethnicities wandered about, seemingly impervious to the cold. The men who lounged on the deck were in a similar, curious state of undress for a November evening. Dress shirts unbuttoned to reveal a variety of hairy chests, sleeves rolled up, it was as though winter had fled from the Don and left summer in its wake. Luka made his way down the steps, primed to investigate.
"Hello there!" A brunette chirped from the deck, waving to him. The globe of her breast rose with her arm, full and round; Luka's libido was stirring.
"Hey," he called back.
But before she could get another word in, a man walked by and slid his hands up her waist from behind. The brunette lost interest in Luka, letting her head fall back against the man's shoulder instead. His broad hands continued to rise until they cupped her breasts, and he didn't hide how he played with her pert nipples.
In Vittore's kingdom there were no rules.
But the closer he drew, the more hesitant Luka became. Heat rose from the deck, tempering the cold and promising a vacation from the chill of late New York fall. Yet something inside told him this wasn't what he wanted.
The Luka of several months ago wouldn't hesitate to bury his face between the generous breasts of any of these girls, but he was a changed man. Now, when he looked across the deck at the models Vittore kept, all Luka could think about was Ciara.
Not one girl had lips that compared. Not one girl had eyes that came close to the secretive, seductive browns Ciara stared him down
with. Luka found himself lost in his own head as he imagined what Ciara might look like in such a state of undress and how her dark skin might catch the light. Those smart, teasing eyes would laugh at him from afar, promising more even as she denied him. The sound of her voice over the phone, apologizing for her behavior, still haunted him; Luka could not escape her. Not now, and maybe not ever.
"Baby, you look all stressed out," one of the girls said. She approached the foot of the stairs to greet Luka as he descended, holding out a hand to usher him down. "Why don't you come relax with me and some of my friends? I promise we'll take good care of you."
Umber skin shone in the bright patio lights, long hair straight and swept up. Luka's lips set in a tight line and he accepted her hand. A light touch directed him across the deck to settle at a table while women surrounded him, and yet Luka didn't feel any pleasure from it.
"You're still not having any fun," the original girl remarked. "Vittore wants us to treat all of his guests well, he wants everyone to smile. What can we do to make you all better?"
"Dunno," Luka mumbled. As he did, he drew his phone out from his back pocket. The urge to distance himself from the situation grew. If he could talk to someone on the outside, he wouldn't have to wallow in his own defeat while surrounded by New York's hottest.
"Oh, pictures!" another girl exclaimed. "Let's take some selfies! You put us in your new profile pic."
Before he could say no, one of the girls had pressed down on the camera button, activating the app. The same girl pushed the screen's button to switch to front facing camera, and all of a sudden Luka stared at his reflection in the phone, the smiling faces of five gorgeous women gathering behind him.
"Everyone, V!" One girl cried. All of them raised the peace sign, and Luka went along with it and took the picture. V for Vittore. Their dedication was cute. He wondered what dirt Vittore had on them, or how much he paid to keep them in line and docile.
Seconds after the picture was taken, Luka's phone buzzed with a text message. An unidentified number scrolled across the top of his screen with five simple words.
"I will see you now."
Vittore.
"Oh, Vittore," the original girl chimed. "Will you say hello for us? And tell him to stop being so busy with work so he can come relax by the pool."
"Right," Luka mumbled. In a daze he rose to find Alex heading down the stairs for him.
"Let's go, Mr. Belmonte," the meathead said with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of the house. "Mr. Lombardo will see you now. I'll take you to him."
Those were the words Luka wanted to hear. Without saying goodbye, he left the girls and followed Alex back up the steps and to the house.
A maze of corridors awaited. Classical paintings, undoubtedly of irreplaceable value, decorated the walls. Alex passed each of them by without a second glance, and Luka attempted to follow his lead. The Belmonte family wasn't poor, but their wealth was nothing compared to the Lombardo family. Even coming from an affluent background, Luka was floored. Women, art, architecture, and hired help, it seemed there was nothing beyond Vittore's reach.
Alex stopped in front of a set of oak double doors on the top floor. Three knocks in timed succession were issued, and then he pulled the door open.
"Mr. Luka Belmonte," Alex announced from the doorway. He gestured for Luka to enter, so he did.
Vittore's quarters were as spacious and as luxurious as the rest of the house. Heavy wooden furniture occupied the room, each piece stained with skill and taste. Against the left side of the room was a sitting area with several high back armchairs clustered around a plush rug spread out before a vast fireplace. A fire burned within, the woodsy smells of flame-licked lumber providing fragrance to the rest of the room. Among the desk and other office pieces sat Vittore Lombardo.
The man was aging, likely as old as Marcello if not a few years his senior. Sparse dark gray hair threatened to reveal his scalp in some places. If it weren't for his age, Luka would have thought a man like Vittore would have no problem with women. Strong, dominant features were made only slightly less attractive by thick folds in his skin — wrinkles from stress over time. Bright blue eyes sparkled, as precious as any jewels Luka had ever seen. A long, fine nose ended in a point, like a bird's beak. Vittore wore a fine suit and tie fitted to his toned body. The Don was no fat, happy fool. Even at his age, Vittore was a man to be reckoned with.
"Good evening, Mr. Lombardo," Luka said with a bow of his head as he spotted the man. Vittore's lips puckered, his eyes narrowed further, and then, to Luka's surprise, he came undone. A sharp, gleeful laugh broke through the room as Alex closed the door in Luka's wake, and the Don lit up like a boy on Christmas morning.
"Christ, Marcello," he said through his mirth, "I told you that if you found the secret to youth, that you had to share with me! What does Camilla think, being seen with a stud as young as you?"
"I'm sure Marcello would be flattered, if he were here. My name is Luka Belmonte, sir. I'm Marcello's boy."
A shake of his head dispelled some, but not all, of Vittore's good humor. He settled back in his chair and examined Luka from over the bridge of his nose.
"Afford an old man his games, Luka," Vittore scolded in jest. "Men the age of your father and I don't often get to see living memories. You are your father’s clone at his age, down to the look in your eyes. It's perfect."
The man sat up and looked at Luka again in full, gesturing to some of the chairs set out by the desk.
"Come. Sit. Let's talk. Your father called me to inform me about your little predicament and asked if I might be able to help."
Luka sat as instructed, eyes ever locked on Vittore. Although the man seemed amiable enough, there could be no forgetting the position of power he was in. Such a man held the life and livelihoods of thousands in the palm of his hand, and Luka knew he had to be on his toes if he didn't want to get on the Don's bad side.
"How could I refuse the request of my childhood friend? I couldn't. So I told him to send you here, and now here you are. You know, it was me who helped your father excel when it was his time to win the spotlight. I'll be happy to help you now that it's time to get yours. People love a familiar face, and boy, are you a familiar face. With a little extra push, no one is going to remember your little disagreement with Mr. Breece."
Was it as easy as that? Luka folded his hands in his lap, striving to keep the discomfort from his face.
"I would like that very much, Mr. Lombardo."
"Then so it shall be done," Vittore announced. A beat passed, and his expression grew a touch more serious. "But know that when you win the election — not if — you'll need to remember who it was that helped you do so. You are family now, Luka, and family helps its own. Remember that."
There was no point in expecting anything less. Luka bowed his head in agreement and resisted the urge to swallow back his nerves. What seemed like a good idea in theory as inescapably real now, and for better or for worse, he was bound to it.
"Yes, Mr. Lombardo."
"Call me Vittore," Vittore said. "I won't have the son of a childhood friend using such formalities. You and I, we're as open with each other as can be. I like you, Luka, and I want to see you succeed. I'll be in touch — so don't you let another soul look at your cellphone. Our conversations are to stay private."
"Understood."
The wood in the fireplace spat and popped, the flames warming Luka's back even from a great distance. It had to be sweltering in the seating area.
"Good boy. Now go home and tell your father I send my kindest regards. Tell him his son will uphold the Belmonte family name and follow in his footsteps." Vittore leaned back in his chair once more, looking at Luka from down the length of his nose. "It was nice to meet you at last, Luka."
"And you." Luka stood, eager to get out. But even as he tucked himself back in the safety of his father's town car, Luka could not shake the unsettling feeling that had rooted within.
Drawn as close to the fi
re as he was, it was only a matter of time before he got burned.
* * *
Ciara
This time it was a date.
Ciara loitered outside the train station, keeping a wary eye on traffic in an attempt to spot the black town car. Even a few minutes into the wait, Ciara realized her mistake — luxury car services were a dime a dozen in New York. It was impossible to tell whether a car was Luka's, or not. Blinding headlights added to her difficulties.
As he requested, she'd dressed in jeans. Tight denim clung to her long legs, Ciara didn't get to wear them often, but she liked the way they made her look. The fabric clung to her modest curves, and the dark wash made them look sleek. Paired with the right blouse, they added a sexy touch of casual to a pulled together look.
Wrapped up as she was beneath a thermal black jacket, Luka wouldn't get a good look unless he took her someplace indoors. But his strange requests made her doubt that their destination would allow her to remove her outer layer.
A quick glance at her watch revealed he was five minutes late. Ciara leaned back against the station wall and huffed a small sigh, the chill of the night air eating at her cheeks. The red slouch beanie she wore saved the tips of her ears, but did nothing for the rest of her face. The frigid weather nipped at her nose and drove her hands into her pockets. Luka's instructions to dress in warm clothes were well warranted — Ciara hoped she dressed warmly enough.
"Hey." The voice startled her, and she turned towards it with a frightened jump. Despite all of the car watching she'd done, Luka stood beside her. His brown hair was uncharacteristically windblown, his hands shoved into the pockets of a thick leather jacket. Each time she'd seen him, he'd been in a suit and wearing wool, but tonight was different. Jeans were tucked into clunky leather boots, and she was sure he was dressed casual, even though she couldn't make it out behind the jacket.
"Hey. I was looking for the car, but I didn't see it."
"Of course you didn't, because I didn't bring the car this time. Tonight is just you and me."
