I nod. But I know I won’t be back.
I put down my wine and go out the door, trying to play it cool and walk slowly. It isn’t until I’m outside his apartment that I start running. I text Luciano as I go.
I’m coming back.
I don’t see a text back, but it doesn’t matter, I’m close to his apartment.
I get there and buzz his number but there is no answer.
I buzz again and again.
I take out my phone just as I hear the intercom crackle. “Hola?”
I jam my finger on the button to talk. “It’s me. Let me in.”
The door buzzes and I go inside. Up the elevator to the sixth floor, the penthouse.
I go down the hall, get to his door. It’s unlocked and I step inside.
“Ruby?” Luciano calls out, appearing from around the corner, wet, with a towel around his waist. “What happened?”
I quickly close the door and lock it behind me, then run right over to Luciano, throwing my arms around him.
So afraid, I’m so fucking afraid.
“Ruby girl,” he says softly, holding me. “I’m getting you all wet. Not in a good way.”
He pulls back and holds my shoulders, frowning, eyes roaming my face. “It went that bad, huh?”
I shake my head, trying to catch my breath. “No. No I didn’t tell him, I didn’t tell him.”
“Okay…”
“Luciano. You never told me your father was in Madrid.”
His face goes white. Mouth parts.
“You saw him?” he cries out softly.
I nod. “Yes. He was at Marco’s.”
“Oh, shit,” he says, his hands going up into his hair. He turns away from me. “Oh shit, oh shit.”
“You had to have known.”
“I did know,” he says, looking to me, his hands falling from his head. He grabs my arms, his eyes growing wild as he stares at me. “Ruby girl, I knew and I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t think you’d see him, I didn’t think that he would be with Marco if you were going over. I’m so sorry I…I didn’t think.”
“Well, he was there. At least he thinks I’m with Marco now and not you.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me over to the couch, sitting down and pulling me beside him. He rests his elbows on his thighs, pushing his thumbs into his forehead. He’s trying to process.
I’m trying to think too. This has made everything that much harder.
“Well,” I say after a moment. “You were eventually planning on telling your stepfather, weren’t you?”
He licks his lips, nodding. “Yes.”
“So, what’s the difference if you tell him now?”
His eyes slide to mine. “The difference is I need to figure out how much he’s changed. What he did to you was seven years ago. He’s so different with me now. Back then, he hated me so much and now…well, I can’t say he loves me, but maybe he’s just indifferent enough not to care what I do. Plus, there’s the fact that he and Marco aren’t as close anymore.”
“They seemed okay when I was there.”
“That’s because Marco always seems like he’s okay. He’ll never talk back to him, he’ll never tell him how he really feels. I know a few times when he’s been drunk he’s confided in me, wishing that his father would leave him alone, stop trying to always pull the strings.”
I don’t know how to tell Luciano that even if his stepfather has changed his feelings toward his stepson, he hasn’t changed his feelings about me.
The contempt in his eyes was as visible as it was back on that day.
“He doesn’t like me, Luciano,” I say softly.
“Perhaps he’s remembering when you threw a beer or two in his face.”
God, I hope that’s it. I hope the contempt is just based on that, and it’s not strong enough to fuck up what Luciano and I have together now.
“I’m scared,” I tell him. “I’m really scared.”
His expression crumbles. “No. Don’t be.”
He puts his arms around me and we fall down onto the couch and he’s holding me tight.
“You have nothing to be afraid of. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
I brush my hand over his beard, up to his hair, running my fingers through it. God, he has such beautiful hair. If we ever have kids, they’re going to have the best hair in fucking Spain.
That thought gives me a jolt, like voltage to my heart.
I’d never thought about the future that far. It was always some far-off haze, a place I’d get to when I got to it. But now, with this man, I know he’s my future. And I want to share his dreams with him. I want to marry him, I want to have his babies, I want to live happy and barefoot on an island somewhere, just the two of us.
I want all of that.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.
“You’ll never lose me. You never did.”
He kisses me. His lips are so sweet and soft as they brush against mine. I melt into him, melt into his kiss because it feels as easy and important as breathing.
This is surrendering.
“I love you,” I murmur against his lips. “I love you so much.”
“I love you,” he whispers back, licking and sucking along my chin, my jaw. “Always have, always will.”
He moves his body over mine and I run my hands down the taut, muscled planes of his back. I love him like this, the feel of his large, strong body above mine, love how it makes me feel so protected and safe. He’s so perfect, sometimes it feels like I’m dreaming.
His hands slip down my side and I reach for his towel, tugging it off of him until he’s naked. I rather like this, him completely nude on top of me, while I’m fully clothed.
“Hey, this isn’t fair,” he jokes, pulling back to look at me.
But my eyes go to the space over his shoulder.
Where Tomás appears.
His face red with rage.
I open my mouth to scream and Luciano sees the terror on my face, turns his head to look.
But it’s too late.
With a snarl, Tomás is grabbing Luciano by the neck and pulling him off of me, then turns him around, slamming him into the wall. A painting crashes to the floor.
“Stop!” I scream, scrambling to my feet, watching in horror as Luciano tries to turn around, still completely naked, while Tomás winds up and strikes him with a punch to his temple.
Luciano crumbles to the ground.
I scream again.
Twenty-Three
Luciano
I see nothing but stars. Bright hot stars that snake through the blackness.
I crumble to the floor, my hands going to my head because it feels like I don’t have a head anymore, it’s just black and blinding pain.
Think, Luciano, think.
But I can’t.
My stepfather is here.
For a moment I wonder how he got in. I saw Ruby lock the door.
But he probably got the spare key from Marco.
And he probably came straight here, knowing he’d find Ruby.
At the bottom of this realization is that he’s never stopped hating me.
His hate was a patient predator, just lying and waiting.
I open my eyes, wincing hard, just in time to see my stepfather’s leg pull back, ready to kick me right in the stomach. Kick me when I’m down, that’s the kind of man he is. That’s the way he was when I was a kid, when he used to spit on me, slap me, punch me to teach me a lesson. I know my mother saw, I know when my brother was older that he saw too, and yet it was okay for Luciano to get beat up over and over again, beat up by the person who was supposed to love him.
It’s not okay anymore.
With reflexes fueled by adrenaline, I reach out and grab his shoe, my palm taking the impact, then curve my hand around, grabbing hold of his foot and twisting it.
My stepfather cries out in surprise, falling to the side on the other knee, bent over.
I’ve never felt this kind of anger before, like a lifetime of abandonment and scorn has funneled into a firestorm of rage.
The fact that I’m naked makes it feel even more raw and primal.
I bend over and grab my stepfather by the collar, hauling him up to his feet. He’s bigger and taller than me, but I’m younger and angrier and I’ve dreamed about this for years. I nearly lift him off the ground as I shove him backward against the wall on the opposite side of the room, the back of his head banging against it.
My fingers curl into his collar, my knuckles growing white, wishing I could choke him right here. I want to choke him, hurt him…
Fuck. Why does he want to hurt me?
“Why are you doing this?!” I scream at him, my spittle flying into his face. “Why do you hate me so much?!”
I’m shaking so hard, my chest closing up so tight, I fear I might die from anger alone.
“Why me?!” I roar.
He doesn’t answer at first. Just looks up at me with a tepid look in his eyes. The son of a bitch doesn’t look scared. He doesn’t even look scared.
And I’m so fucking terrified.
He swallows, gives me a weak smile. “Because you’re easy to hate, Luciano.”
I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the heart.
I growl at him, my face hot and strained and I pull his head forward before slamming it back into the wall. His eyes close, pain coming over his face.
The pain I’m causing.
But it’s nothing like the pain he’s caused me.
“I tried to love you!” I yell at him, tears starting to claw up my throat. “All I wanted was to love you. But you never loved me, you never loved me. You treated me like I was…just trash, just garbage, someone’s discarded junk.”
He snorts, his eyes still closed. “Because you are,” he mumbles.
I suck in my breath like I’ve been hit.
I can’t.
I can’t…
I turn around, trying to calm the feral beast inside of me, trying to be the better man here. I catch Ruby’s eye and she’s staring at me pure horror.
But instead of Ruby calming me, Ruby enrages me.
She just reminds me of what my father did to her.
What he did to us.
I whip around, winding up and deliver a nose-cracking punch to my stepfather’s face.
His head slumps to the side a little, blood splattering all over my bare chest.
And still he smiles at me.
This motherfucker actually smiles at me.
“You should have done this a long time ago Luciano,” he says, breathing hard. He opens his eyes and looks at me. No matter what, those eyes stay cold. “I would have had some respect for you.”
I feel my heart cracking open, the hopelessness sinking in.
“I thought you…I thought you changed. I thought something changed. My mother…”
“Yes, your mother,” he says. “What happened to her made me realize that I better be nicer to the cash cow.”
I gape at him. Unable to breathe.
“You…You…”
“Luciano,” he says roughly, licking the blood off the lips. “Oh, you foolish, stupid boy. I knew you’d never match up to the name you were given. My name. But your mother insisted. She insisted that you take on Ribeiro. That’s how much she cared for you, how much she wanted the best for you. Oh, but I couldn’t tell her you weren’t worthy of my bloodline, my legacy, my family history. That you came from a bloodline of sewage. Do you remember what it was like before your father left? Before I came along and rescued your mother? You were garbage, Luciano. You always will be.”
He looks over my shoulder at Ruby. “No wonder the two of you get along so well. She’s trash too.”
I don’t even think.
I headbutt him, my forehead cracking against his. I feel no pain, but his eyes close and he starts to slide down through my hands.
“Luciano!” Ruby cries out.
I turn to look at her, her hands at her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
“Please,” she begs. “Stop.”
I look back at Tomás. He’s still conscious, breathing harshly, struggling to stay on his feet.
I feel intense shame at what I’ve done.
Like there was no point to the violence.
Like I did what he wanted.
FUCK.
I did exactly what he wanted.
I let go of him and he staggers, trying to stay up, and I walk right over to my towel, wrap it back around my waist. I glance at Ruby, telling her how sorry I am with just my eyes.
Because my reaction, my violence, my rage, was part of his plan.
That’s why he provoked me.
Why he came here and started it.
He had the proof he needed to get mad.
Now he has the proof to do his worst.
I fought my stepfather, and I won, but only the battle, not the war.
I go over to Ruby and I grab her, pulling her into me. Her face buries in my chest and I wrap my arms around her, my chin on her shoulder, watching my stepfather as he gets to his feet.
“Luciano,” he croaks, taking a step forward. “I hope you enjoyed that. I hope it was worth waiting for all those years. You know, you go on and on about how much I hate you, yet I never mention how much you hate me. How much you resented me for replacing your father. How I felt that from the day I met you. You made it known that I would never be your father and so…that was that. That was the stone you cast.”
He coughs and coughs, bending over for a moment. Then he straightens up and gives me a wicked grin. “This was nothing, by the way.” He gestures to his face. “I’ve had so much worse before, from people who knew what they were doing. Good thing they don’t call on you to fight during the games, you’d get nowhere.”
His eyes go to Ruby. I hold her tighter.
“I’ll try to keep this from the news, Luciano,” he says, still focused on the back of her head. “I’m sure you don’t want people to know you did this to your own family. I know I don’t.”
There’s something coming.
“But I’m not sure I like what this woman has done to our lives,” he says in English.
Ruby tenses in my arms, her fingers digging into my skin.
“Eleven years is an awfully long time to be here illegally. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t been caught. Then again, if you play your cards right, no one will ever know. That’s the problem with this country, this continent. Too many people like her slipping through the cracks, pretending to be one of us when they aren’t.”
I can’t swallow. “Leave her out of this. She did nothing.”
He gingerly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping it on his nose. He shakes his head at the sight of blood. “This was a Gucci. Ruined.” He tucks it back into his pocket and looks at me, eyes glittering. “Anyway, she’s done plenty. I want her out of here.”
She gasps against me and I place my palm against the back of her head, holding her to me. “She’s not going anywhere,” I say through gritted teeth.
He gives me a quick smile.
“But she is. I’m calling immigration. Marco will tell me where she’s staying. You can run and hide if you want Ruby, but eventually you’ll be found. Might as well give yourself up now.”
“Please,” I whisper, I beg. “Please don’t do this. I love her.”
“That’s why I’m doing it. Because you don’t deserve it. You can’t have everything, Luciano. That’s not how life works. Someone has to keep the balance.” He pauses. “You know, all this time I tried to keep things fair. It wasn’t fair that you had the talent and my own son, my own flesh and blood, didn’t. Then you had to push your luck. You had to go after the things he had. If I didn’t keep the balance here, I’m sure the man upstairs would.”
He starts walking slowly toward the door, pressing the spare key onto a side table.
“I’m going to make the call when I get so
mewhere safe. If I were you, I would pack your bags and get ready to go on the next flight out of here back to the states. In the meantime, enjoy your sweet time together.”
He opens the door and steps out.
The door closes behind him.
I don’t want to let go of her, but I have to.
I immediately run for the door, locking it.
I turn around to see Ruby collapse to the ground, crying, mouth frozen open in a soundless scream, tears pouring down her cheeks.
“Ruby,” I cry out, hurrying over to her, sinking to my knees, pulling her into me.
We collapse onto the floor, holding each other.
Jesus Cristo.
What have I done?
She cries into me, sobs shaking her body, and even though I’m holding onto her as hard as I can, I wish someone was holding onto me.
I’ve never felt so helpless, hopeless, lost.
Lost and stumbling through it all.
I want to be lost and stumbling with you.
Ruby’s words from long ago sink in deep.
“I can’t lose you,” I cry out, my chest feeling like it’s being swallowed in agony. “I can’t lose you again.”
My own tears are spilling from my eyes, falling onto her like sporadic rain. I hold her even tighter, as if I can press her into my skin, like I could absorb her, keep me inside me forever.
This can’t be it.
This can’t be the end when it’s only just the beginning.
“Fuck!” I scream, my voice scarring my throat, the sound of pure grief being ripped out of me, hooks and all.
I cry.
I cry and I hold her, rocking back and forth on my apartment floor in Madrid, realizing how much different this one hits. How much different it hurts than before.
Now I know I have her love.
Now I know I want her future.
I was supposed to be in it.
“Ruby, Ruby, please marry me.”
The words spill out of my mouth.
She stops sobbing, stills in her arms. Raises her head to look at me, her eyes red and in so much pain. “What?” she asks, breathless.
“Marry me,” I tell her. “Please be my wife.”
She stares at me in disbelief, her cheeks, nose and mouth wet. She swallows thickly. “That’s not going to change anything, Luciano. I’m still going to get deported.”
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 28
