I did a lot of thinking the next morning. The situation in the Vitale estate was getting progressively worse. Nobody dared breathe wrong. Security had tightened twofolds .
Papa was in a secluded room guarded by at least fifty men. Uncle Matteo and the other major stakeholders in the capo dealings were all in the room with him. I had no idea what they were talking about since such a long time. They also refused to tell me anything about Papa's condition.
Uncle Matteo had always claimed that the women of the Vitale family had nothing to do with the mafia. It was because of Uncle Matteo that Papa had never let me get involved with the serious business. Although I had taken a great interest in the battlefield during my younger days, I was never taken to one. Instead, Papa had hired someone to teach me how to be more graceful.
I had been standing outside Papa's room for more than six hours now, and no one had come out. I was tired, angry too. I was the heir to the Vitale family affairs. I shouldn't be sidelined like this.
Naturally, I knew what Papa's state meant. Other members of the mafia would try their luck and attempt to finish what had been started. A family member would also try to take over where Papa had left off, leaving me on the sidelines.
Not on my watch.
Rocco has been by my side through out, which I found incredibly annoying. The air in the estate already felt like it was laced with smoke fumes which made it much harder for me to breathe. Having someone breathing down my neck every three seconds just made it worse.
I didn't trust many people in the famiglia. Only five. Rocco was one of them. Another was one of my own men, Salvatore. Sal was one of my personal favorites. He always had intel.
With him, I could play the "coy, gracious mafia princess" while he brought every piece of information straight to my desk.
No one knew how much we had actually gathered. We knew about everything—every strategy, every network, every planned attack. He was always let into the rooms that mattered.
So I sent him into this one too.
"Sal. Go in. I'll be heading out to tend to some other matters, so I expect you to give me every detail of what happens in there. Understood?"
He looked at me with a mutual understanding and nodded. "You can always trust me, Nalise."
Sal always addressed me by my middle name, Annalise. I allowed it. No one else had that privilege.
"Miss Vitale, where else would we be going?"
We. Like I had invited him.
Don't get me wrong, I loved Rocco. It was the feeling of suffocation I hated.
Rocco had been employed by Papa and had it drilled into him that the day he ever left me alone would be the day he died. When I was eight, we went mall shopping and I sneaked off to look at a dress I really liked. It wasn't even up ten minutes before Papa started panicking. He took his frustration out on Rocco and made him do over a thousand frog jumps right there in the shopping mall. Everyone laughed and took pictures of Rocco and I can still remember the humiliated look on his face afterwards.
I pleaded with Papa to take down every trace of what happened in the mall off the internet. Papa would never say no to his princess, so he did.
Rocco has felt indebted to me ever since, but the truth was I felt terrible. I hated that I could be the cause of pain to him like that. It felt like I held lordship over his life. Not just his, but almost everyone in the estate who answered to Papa. Answering to Papa meant answering to me.
He repeated, "Miss Vitale?"
Then Sal came back— just who I had been waiting for.
"Nalise… I wasn't allowed inside. Things aren't looking good either."
I had expected that. It answered every question spinning in my head. Papa was still alive, and plans to take over were already being formalized.
I simply nodded and told him he had to stay close and make sure nothing got out of control because there was every tendency that it would.
It was time to face the topic I had been avoiding in my head since the attack and frankly….for the last 7 years.
Rocco drove me across line which separated Vitale territory from Ferrante territory. I sat in the backseat with my arms crossed, wearing an expression of a woman being escorted to her own funeral. The good past is i was at least dressed well for it. I have always belief that you should never look like your problems.
"Miss Vitale, You don't have to do this," Rocco said to me from the front of the car.
I already knew what I should and shouldn't be doing. Reminders was what I didn't need.
"You've mentioned this four times already, Rocco."
"I just think there are other options."
"Name one."
Just like I expected. Silence.
"Exactly." I turned back to the window. "Will you please drive now?"
He listened.
We had a tail by the second block. Two black cars, hanging back at a polite distance.
He already knew I was coming.
Of course he did.
I uncrossed and recrossed my arms, repeating to myself that this was okay. I was okay. I was capable of doing this. I was capable of walking into a room and talking to someone i was once in love with Except, when I did he was a boy and now I don't quite know what he is anymore.
Seven years.
7 years of nothing. No phone call. No message explaining why he left. Nothing. Just one day, he was there, and the next day, he wasn't.
But eventually, I filled in all the missing pieces.
Everyone did. Luca Ferrante didn't just leave because he wanted a change of scenery. He left because he blamed and hated my father for what happened to Santo.
Santo Ferrante. Older brother to Luca. The man who was meant to be exactly where Luca was. The man who died under circumstances that were, depending on who you asked, either a terrible tragedy or a very pointed statement.
My father never confirmed anything about it.
He never denied anything about it.
I had never asked directly, because I wasn't sure I wanted to carry the answer.
So Luca left. And took everything we were with him. And spent five years somewhere doing things nobody fully knew about. He came back different in ways I hadn't had enough time to measure yet, because I had been very careful. At every public event where we occupied the same room— not to look at him for too long.
Self-preservation is what I like to call it.
"We're here…" Rocco said, while hissing.
The lieutenant accompanied me into the sitting room and when I was settled, he went back outside.
I stood there for a second.
Looked around.
It wasn't what i initially preparedmyself for. I'm not sure what I thought I'd see though but something performative, maybe. Expensive furniture placed just far enough apart and shiny decorations to remind any one that stepped in that didn't belong there. The Ferrantes for as much as ive known have always been good at making people feel small without ever needing to raise their voices.
This room felt normal. Comfortable, even. The couches looked like people actually used them. The windows were slid half open, indicating someone had been here recently. I didn't like that.
I sat down.
Sitting down felt uncomfortable so i stood back up as immediate as I sat down before,
Somewhere deeper in the house, I could hear the sound of music through the walls. They sounded familiar, I've heard it before but couldn't quite name it.
I tilted my head and my feet started to move simultaneously on their own.
Vivaldi? No. Not quite.
Debussy.
Clair?
Yes…Clair. I was sure of it.
I was so focused on getting it right that I didn't hear him come in.
"It's Debussy."
Luca Ferrante leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly aware of what he had just witnessed.
I didn't jump, rather what I felt was pure annoyance. That feeling you get when you almost nailed an exam question but chose the wrong answer anyway.
"Yes… yes, of course I knew that." I hadn't.
"Really? Did you now?" Luca said, striding toward the center of the room where I now stood.
This felt like a test. One I needed to pass at all costs. I didn't know why. Between Luca and me, we had always loved challenges. Neither of us ever accepted defeat. Even when we were… whatever we were.
He raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to change my answer. I didn't. I straightened my spine.
Then I started to feel it— his aura. It was darker than I remembered.
He wasn't too close, but I could see a visible scar on his face. It made me wonder if he had others.
Luca had always been good-looking, but now? He had passed that stage. He looked like a Greek god. Taller. Broader. Fuller in all the right places.
His eyes… they seemed empty. They used to be full of life. Now they looked nothing like that.
The love of my childhood had changed. I had known it before coming here, but witnessing it now hit differently.
He noticed how much I was assessing him. Frankly, he was doing the same. I wondered what he must think of me now.
I shook the thought off. I was the first to break the silence.
"I'm here now, Luca."
"I see." He had a smirk on his face I didn't quite like.
"Your father."
We were seated now.
I took a pause before answering. "He's… alive. For now."
"He is. Not for long."
What? What was he insinuating? He didn't bother explaining. He just stated it like I should have already accepted it in good fate.
"Should I take that as a threat from you?"
"From every famiglia in town."
"You included?" I asked again. I needed to know exactly where his head was at. If he was also after my father, there was no point seeking help in the lion's den. From the leader of the pack himself.
He didn't reply. Instead, he poured a glass of wine, stood up, and handed it to me. He must have thought I was stupid.
"Luca… I'm not drinking that."
He raised his eyebrows, questioning why I refused a drink from him and then he smiled.
"It's been 7 years and I still love the way you say my name."
No. Lord, no.
Something twisted inside me. I thought I had enough self control, but I really didn't. My heart fluttered the way it used to when I was seventeen. The only difference now was that it was far more guarded and knew the dangers of showing emotions.
I didn't react to him. Instead, I stood up and squared my shoulders with his. I probably looked like a middle school girl standing next to him, but that was besides the point.
I took the glass from him and placed it back down on the center table. His mood shifted the moment he realized I wasn't drinking it.
"I have no interest in poisoning you. You know that too. That's why you came."
He was right.
"Luca. Before we have a proper conversation, I'm going to ask you some questions and I need you to answer them."
"Ah, just like my principessa. Stating demands while still needing help."
His principessa. No way he was still calling me that. Did he not realize we were no longer children? We were no longer at the stage where he could freely call me that.
He sat down on the same couch. He had been across from me before, now he was right beside me. My breath hitched at the sudden proximity.
"Go on, principessa." His legs were crossed. His entire demeanor had switched into business mode.
I wasn't sure whether to sit or stand so I remained standing.
"I'm sure you know everything that's been happening." I paused to watch his reaction. His gaze never left my face, confirming what I said.
"My dad was attacked, and now the elders of the family are holding meetings I'm not allowed into. People have their eyes on us."
"And you want me to help you?"
I thought that was obvious. "Yes."
"Why should I?"
"I could get killed."
I don't know why I said it like it should still affect him. It shouldn't anymore. But somehow it did. His expression grew sterner.
"I'll help you, carina, but on one condition."
Of course. Very Luca. He only ever did something if he gained from it.
"Whatever your terms are, I'll accept them."
I was desperate. Every minute I spent exchanging words with him was dangerous.
I don't know how it happened, but suddenly I was pressed against the wall, cornered by him.
"Be careful what you say, principessa. You should know there's no going back after this."
There was a dangerous, piercing look in his eyes that dug into me, making me instantly regret agreeing to something I didn't yet understand.
His scent filled my lungs and my thoughts started to fray.
"You will come to my house. Live here fully. You'll do whatever I say and ask of you. Anytime. Any day."
"What do you—"
Was he asking me to be his mistress? The audacity to try and glorify it.
"Anything you say or ask of me… does this include sexual conduct?"
He took me in before answering. He tucked a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers traced my jaw line and I tried to suppress the thrill racing through me.
"Yes… you'll be mine, Serena. In every sense of that word."