by K. A. Ware
“I saved you some supper…” I trailed off as I turned and caught sight of Carlo. The collar of his shirt had been stretched and torn, dried blood crusted the corner of his mouth, and a dark bruise was starting to shadow the right side of his face.
On instinct, I moved to rush toward him, the question of what happened on the tip of my tongue. But one look from Vincenzo stopped me in my tracks. His face was hard, smooth of any real emotion, but the challenge in his eyes was clear. He was waiting to see what I would do.
Be careful, Elena. He’s a dangerous man.
My mother’s words echoed in my head. His eyes locked on me as I stood there, frozen in time.
A high-pitched ding echoed in the silence, alerting me that the plate I’d placed in the microwave was done. Standing up straight and forcefully pulling my gaze from Carlo’s swollen face and sad eyes, I addressed Vincenzo.
“I sa—” I croaked out. Quickly clearing my throat, I started again. “I saved you both a plate, would you like me to bring it out?”
Seemingly satisfied with my reaction, he stood straighter and released the grip he’d had on Carlo’s thin arm. I couldn’t help but wince at the sight of the boy’s reddened skin.
“We’re fine, put him to bed. I’ll be in my office for the rest of the night,” he said gruffly and stalked out of the room.
We both stood stock still until Vincenzo’s footsteps faded. I waited for a beat, making sure he wasn’t going to double back, before rushing to Carlo’s side.
“Are you okay?” I asked. My hands fluttered all around him, afraid to touch him anywhere and cause him more pain.
He nodded once, and I watched helplessly as he raised his chin, in a show of strength beyond his years. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he refused to blink and let them fall. I wanted so badly to pry, to find out what had happened and why, but that wasn’t what he needed from me.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and—”
“Carlo?” Luciana’s shrill voice rang out. My head snapped up to see her standing in the doorway, long white nightgown stained red with wine.
I felt Carlo’s body stiffen beside me.
“Where is he?” she growled through gritted teeth.
“Luciana—”
“WHERE?” she screamed, causing Carlo to flinch at my side.
Anger filled me, didn’t she see how terrified her son was? Did she care how much worse this could be for him if she tried to interfere? How seeing her hurt too was going to affect him?
“Luciana, nothing you do is going—”
“I didn’t ask your fucking opinion,” she seethed.
Suddenly, I didn’t care if she walked into the lion’s den unarmed. If she wanted to let her anger rule her judgment, then so be it.
“In his office,” I said, my chin held high, and my arm wrapped gently around Carlo’s shoulders. She gave my hand a filthy look and turned on her heels, heading toward the way Vincenzo had left.
Sending up a silent prayer, I ushered Carlo quickly up the stairs and into his room. I couldn’t worry about what was going on downstairs. I had to focus on Carlo; he was all that mattered. Leading him into the bathroom, I hoisted him up on the counter and stripped his torn shirt off to better examine his injuries.
Working for the DeLucas for nearly twenty years had honed my first aid skills more than I’d like to admit. From what I could tell, nothing felt broken. He had a few bruised ribs, likely from a kick. It made me sick to my stomach. The rest of the damage was on the surface, thank God. Just a fat lip, some scrapes on his hands and knees and the nasty bruise on his face.
“I’m not supposed to cry,” Carlo whispered as I dabbed at the cut on his lip.
“What do you mean?” I asked gently.
“He hurt a man, and when I cried, he hurt me. Papa said real men don’t cry; he said I have to learn to be strong.” His whispered words had me nearly collapsing with heartache.
My eyes fell shut, and I willed myself to hold it together, for his sake.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.” There were no other reassurances I could give him. I had no way to fix the situation. So instead, I bandaged him up and tucked him into bed.
“I’ll be in my room. You know where it is if you need me, okay?”
He nodded, his eyes already growing heavy with exhaustion. Leaning down, I kissed the top of his head.
“Un milione di baci,” I whispered. One million kisses for the boy who’d become my world. I sat there, humming a lullaby my Mama used to sing to me when I was a child and gently stroking his soft hair. I waited until his breathing deepened and I was sure he wouldn’t wake when I left.
Creeping into the hall, I quietly shut the door behind me. I was so busy trying to be quiet I almost tripped over Luciana. She was curled up against the wall next to the door. I noticed through a fan of hair that she had a new bruise blooming on her cheek that matched Carlo’s. I wanted to be angry at her for abandoning Carlo when he was hurt, but I understood why she went after Vincenzo.
“Luciana?”
She rolled her head against the wall and looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “He’ll never stop; you know? Not until he turns my baby boy into an exact replica of him.”
The truth of her words shook me to my core.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I said, reaching down to help her. Surprisingly enough, she let me, and together we made our way down the hall to her room. She’d never shared a room with Vincenzo, something that I was grateful for at the moment. I kept an arm wrapped around her as I pulled the covers back. She moved stiffly into the bed, wincing as she settled back.
I turned, preparing to leave her when she suddenly spoke, halting me in my tracks.
“How can you love him?” Luciana asked, the clarity in her voice surprised me. I’d assumed she was far more drunk a few moments ago than she seemed to be now.
“Who?” I asked, uncertain of where the conversation was heading.
“My husband. Don’t try to deny it. I know what’s going on with you two. I knew the night before the wedding when I watched him walk across the lawn to your cottage. I waited, he didn’t come back until sunrise. I don’t care,” she said dismissively, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. “I never loved him, and he only ever cared about himself. I just don’t understand how you could love that monster.”
Her words hit home. I’d been asking myself the same thing for years, watching in horror as the darkness overtook him. If we were going to have this conversation after so many years, I might as well be honest.
“He wasn’t always a monster. I was sixteen, and he was the most amazing and interesting boy I’d ever met. I fell in love with him then, but over the years...” I trailed off, needing a moment to gather my thoughts and swallow the lump that formed in my throat at the thought of what we’d had. “His heart has grown black, and I’m not sure there’s a way back for him; I’m terrified for his soul.” Just saying the words aloud felt like a betrayal. But my heart knew them to be true.
“Do you still love him?”
I stared at my hands, starting to regret my decision to be honest. No matter how their relationship started, she was his wife, the mother of his child, and I would always be the other woman. “A part of me will always love a part of him. But who he’s become, that’s not a man that deserves my love. It’s taken me a long time to realize that.”
“So why don’t you leave?” she asked, resting her head on the pillow once more.
“Why don’t you?” I challenged because there was no escape for either of us.
“So you’re caught in his web, too, huh? I should have guessed. Vincenzo likes control, if he wasn’t going to let the woman he hates leave, then he surely wouldn’t let the woman he loves go.”
“So it would seem,” I said quietly. I mostly agreed with her. However, I wasn’t sure Vincenzo ever really loved me, not in the pure way love should be given. She was right about his need for control, and looking back on our life together I
started to see that maybe what he felt for me, what I’d mistaken as love, had been an obsession. As if I were an object to own.
We didn’t speak for several minutes. Instead, we sat in silence, contemplating. I looked back on the decisions I’d made that led me to where I was, and the weight of realization pressed down on me. I had no control over my future; everything rested in the hands of the sweet boy turned monster.
“I need you to make me a promise,” Luciana said suddenly.
“Okay,” I responded, hesitant.
“No matter what happens to me, take care of Carlo. I know you love him like he’s your own. You’re as much his mother as I am.”
I started to shake my head. As much as I felt Carlo was a part of me, I would never take that away from her.
“Stop,” she said sharply. “I’ve watched you with him; you love him. You’ve been a constant in his life. At first, I hated you for it, but then I came to understand. We could spend the rest of our lives resenting each other, or we can accept what we are and move on. I need an ally, Elena. I need to know that someone will be here to take care of my son.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you,” I protested.
“You can’t promise me that, and we both know it. Do this for me; promise me you’ll protect him from Vincenzo.” Her eyes pleaded with me.
I could feel the depth of her sorrow; it mixed with my own. I began to realize how right she was; if we were going to survive what Vincenzo had become, we had to make peace. Our love for Carlo would be our driving force.
“I promise. I’ll protect him with my life.”
“Whatever it takes?” she asked, a tinge of hysteria in her voice.
“Whatever it takes.”
The magnitude of the night’s events weighed heavily on my shoulders as I left Luciana’s room and made my way downstairs to my room. I felt as if something had been set in motion that I was powerless to stop. So much had changed through the course of a single day.
“Elena?” Vincenzo’s voice echoed through the quiet house the moment before my foot hit the final step. I paused, looking around. I couldn’t see him so he must have just heard me coming down the stairs. I had a choice; I could go to my room and pretend I hadn’t heard him, or I could go to him as beckoned. Given his volatile mood, I opted for the latter.
I forced myself to take measured steps toward his office, shaking my hands out to try to stop the trembling. Never had I feared for my safety when it came to this man, but since witnessing the aftermath of his fury, that was no longer true.
“Did you want dinner now?” I asked as I walked through the open door.
He was seated behind his desk. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair and looked up at me, his face strained. I couldn’t tell if it was a true emotion or just another manipulation.
“No, I’m not hungry. Please, come in,” he said, waving me in. “Close the door.”
My heart skipped a beat in fear at his tacked on command, but I did as I was told. The click of the door closing felt like the slam of bars in a cell. Whatever happened next, I was at his mercy. Running would never be an option.
He stood and rounded his desk as I approached, reaching for my waist and hauling me against his chest. I went without resistance, but my heart was anything but willing. He held me close, face buried in my neck.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore,” he whispered against my skin. “Please forgive me.”
I was shocked that he was asking for my forgiveness. I wasn’t the one that felt the burn of his hand.
“What am I forgiving?” I asked, pulling away slightly so I could see his face. I needed to see his eyes; they were the only part about him that ever told the truth.
“Everything,” he pleaded, but his eyes were blank. He didn’t even know for what he was seeking redemption.
“What happened?”
“She came in here; she was out of control—”
“Not Luciana. With Carlo, what happened to your son?” I asked, trying to ebb the anger in my voice. I needed to tread carefully.
“He needs to harden up; he’s too soft,” he said sharply. I could see him starting to shut down and get defensive, my window of opportunity was closing rapidly.
“He’s just a boy,” I said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. The act instantly caused him to relax.
“He’s not just a boy; he’s my son. He’s a DeLuca, and one day he’ll sit in this office, and he’ll need to be strong.”
“But is now really the time to start that? He’s only eight, Vincenzo. He’s not ready to be exposed to that violence. You want him to be strong? Don’t break him before he’s even gotten a chance to grow up.”
“My father did the same thing with me,” he argued.
“Your father also made you marry a woman you didn’t love. Are you going to do that to Carlo, too?”
He sneered at the memory. “No.”
“Then maybe there’s a different way to handle this, too. A way that doesn’t leave everyone broken.”
He didn’t say anything. He just stared into my eyes, searching for something. I was careful to keep my gaze steady, not letting my nerves show. I didn’t know if I would get another chance to get through to him and protect Carlo. These moments where he listened to me were getting few and far between; I had to make it count.
“Please,” I whispered. Tilting my head up, I stretched up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, sealing the pact I’d made with Luciana.
Whatever it takes.
Chapter 14
Seattle, Washington
May, 1998
Elena
“So what do you want for dinner? I’ll make whatever the birthday boy wants,” I said, reaching out to pinch Carlo’s cheek. He swiftly dodged my attempt and sidestepped me.
“I don’t know, manicotti?”
“Sounds good! Now, get out of the kitchen so I can get breakfast started,” I ordered, flicking a dish towel at him for emphasis.
Carlo laughed loudly, turning to flee the room only to be stopped in his tracks at the sight of his father standing in the doorway, scowl in place.
“He won’t be home for dinner tonight. We have business to take care of,” Vincenzo declared, his tone brokering no room for argument.
I felt my stomach drop and my vision darkened at the edges as my head spun. I’d done everything in my power over the years to sway Vincenzo’s hand. I wasn’t able to shelter Carlo from everything, but I’d been able to stave off the worst of it. Something in my gut told me our holding pattern was over.
“What are we doing?” Carlo asked, his eyes narrowed at his father. He was a smart boy, but he was a teenager, after all; they didn’t always have the best sense of self-preservation.
My eyes darted between father and son, bracing myself for Vincenzo’s reaction. Carlo’s tone would certainly not be appreciated.
“We’re finally going to make a man out of you,” he spat viciously.
Carlo didn’t say anything, just stood there staring at his father as if his existence was challenge enough. I began to twist the towel in my hand viciously, my mind racing for an excuse to prevent Vincenzo from taking him, but I came up blank.
“Come,” he ordered over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room, not even sparing me a glance.
It seemed Vincenzo had deemed his son’s sixteenth birthday as a marker for the beginning of his indoctrination into the family.
“It’ll be okay,” Carlo said quietly to me. His hand coming to rest on my shoulder before he followed after his father.
I was worried for Carlo, but he was strong. Luciana and I had made sure of it. We’d tried to combat every one of his father’s influences. I just hoped it was enough to make him remember who he was.
“Where are you taking my son?” I heard Luciana’s shrill voice call out from the foyer.
Oh no, this is not going to go well.
I rushed out of the kitchen, hoping to mediate before things got any
worse for Carlo. Even after the agreement we struck years ago, Luciana had not been able to grasp the consequences of her outbursts. She still didn’t understand that her defiance of her husband only brought down pain upon her son.
“He is my son,” Vincenzo boomed. “I will do with him what I please. This should come as no shock to you. He is a DeLuca. He needs to stop acting like a little boy hiding behind your skirt and start learning to behave like the man that will one day run this family.”
“I hate you!” she screamed.
Walking into the foyer, I saw her standing in the way of the double front doors, using her thin frame to block their exit.
“That is of no consequence to me. I will no longer allow you to stand in the way. Now move, before I remove you.” The venom in his voice made my skin crawl.
“Mom, it’ll be fine. Just move out of the way,” Carlo coaxed.
“Listen to your son, Luciana. You know if you stand in my way, you will lose—like always.”
“You will not turn him into a monster!” she wailed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
“Basta! Enough,” Vincenzo hollered, taking two steps forward and backhanding her across the face. I couldn’t contain my gasp at his violence, but her screams drowned out my reaction.
Carlo’s body was wound tight. I could tell he wanted to go to his mother but knew it would only enrage his father more.
“Let’s go, son,” Vincenzo said, walking around where Luciana was splayed across the marble floor. He wrenched open the door, letting it slam into her back without a care and disappeared down the front walkway.
Carlo looked at his mother and then turned to look at me where I was still standing at the entrance of the hallway.
“Go,” I urged. “I’ll take care of her.”
He firmed his jaw and nodded once before following his father once more.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I hurried to Luciana’s side, cradling her head in my hands.
“Look at me,” I demanded. “How’s your vision?”
